The Wild Knight and Other Poems eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 48 pages of information about The Wild Knight and Other Poems.

Chattering finch and water-fly
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly. 
No:  I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King’s jest,
  It was hid so carefully.

A CHORD OF COLOUR

My Lady clad herself in grey,
  That caught and clung about her throat;
Then all the long grey winter day
  On me a living splendour smote;
And why grey palmers holy are,
  And why grey minsters great in story,
And grey skies ring the morning star,
  And grey hairs are a crown of glory.

My Lady clad herself in green,
  Like meadows where the wind-waves pass;
Then round my spirit spread, I ween,
  A splendour of forgotten grass. 
Then all that dropped of stem or sod,
  Hoarded as emeralds might be,
I bowed to every bush, and trod
  Amid the live grass fearfully.

My Lady clad herself in blue,
  Then on me, like the seer long gone,
The likeness of a sapphire grew,
  The throne of him that sat thereon. 
Then knew I why the Fashioner
  Splashed reckless blue on sky and sea;
And ere ’twas good enough for her,
  He tried it on Eternity.

Beneath the gnarled old Knowledge-tree
  Sat, like an owl, the evil sage: 
‘The World’s a bubble,’ solemnly
  He read, and turned a second page. 
‘A bubble, then, old crow,’ I cried,
  ’God keep you in your weary wit! 
’A bubble—­have you ever spied
  ‘The colours I have seen on it?’

THE HAPPY MAN

To teach the grey earth like a child,
  To bid the heavens repent,
I only ask from Fate the gift
  Of one man well content.

Him will I find:  though when in vain
  I search the feast and mart,
The fading flowers of liberty,
  The painted masks of art.

I only find him at the last,
  On one old hill where nod
Golgotha’s ghastly trinity—­
  Three persons and one god.

THE UNPARDONABLE SIN

I do not cry, beloved, neither curse. 
  Silence and strength, these two at least are good. 
  He gave me sun and stars and ought He could,
But not a woman’s love; for that is hers.

He sealed her heart from sage and questioner—­
  Yea, with seven seals, as he has sealed the grave. 
  And if she give it to a drunken slave,
The Day of Judgment shall not challenge her.

Only this much:  if one, deserving well,
  Touching your thin young hands and making suit,
  Feel not himself a crawling thing, a brute,
Buried and bricked in a forgotten hell;

Prophet and poet be he over sod,
  Prince among angels in the highest place,
  God help me, I will smite him on the face,
Before the glory of the face of God.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Wild Knight and Other Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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