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Alyson
some days are better than others
some are filled with sunshine
and others are filled with darkness
but on my darkest days
I think...
one day I'll be free
I'll spread my wings, fly away
and never look back again
but that day is not today
No one was with me there--
Happy I was--alone;
Yet from the sunshine suddenly
A joy was gone.
A bird in an empty house
Sad echoes makes to ring,
Flitting from room to room
On restless wing:
Till from its shades he flies,
And leaves forlorn and dim
The narrow solitudes
So strange to him.
So, when with fickle heart
I joyed in the passing day,
A presence my mood estranged
Went grieved away.
Blue moth!...
Tiny, pulsating thing ...
You and I met upon a rocky hill.
I paused ...
You paused, and poised
Blue,
Blue on a dark stone:
And all the vibrant sunshine in the world
Was caught for the sparkle
On your tiny wings ...
Blue moth!
The dead land oppressed me;
I turned my thoughts away,
And went where hill and meadow
Are shadowless and gay.
Where Coopers stands by Cranham,
Where the hill-gashes white
Show golden in the sunshine,
Our sunshine--God’s delight.
Beauty my feet stayed at last
Where green was most cool,
Trees worthy of all worship
I worshipped ... then, O fool,
Let my thoughts slide unwitting
To other, dreadful trees, ...
And found me standing, staring
Sick of heart--at these!
A little hour of sunshine,
A little while of joy,
We winnow in our harvesting
From all the world's alloy.
None, none, are so benighted,
Who journey up life's hill.
But have some treasured memory,
Which lives all vibrant still.
Good-bye dear day of sunshine, rain
In flooding torrents pours
Its liquid footsteps on my roof,
Its fingers on my doors.
While I sit tranquilly within
And tell my beads of joy,
Holding a peace within my heart
Which nothing can destroy.
Out of this oubliette between the mountains
five valleys go, five passes like gates;
three of them black in shadow, two of them bright
with distant sunshine;
and sunshine fills one high valley bed,
green grass shining, and little white houses
like quartz crystals,
little, but distinct a way off.
Why don't I go?
Why do I crawl about this pot, this oubliette,
stupidly?
Why don't I go?
But where?
If I come to a pine-wood, I can't say
Now I am arrived!
What are so many straight trees to me!