Читать книгу Collected Poems: Volume Two - Alfred Noyes - Страница 10

Table of Contents

I

Come, the dusk is lit with flowers!

Quietly take this guiding hand:

Little breath to waste is ours

On the road to lovers' land.

Time is in his dungeon-keep!

Ah, not thither, lest he hear,

Starting from his old grey sleep,

Rosy feet upon the stair.

II

Ah, not thither, lest he heed

Ere we reach the rusty door!

Nay, the stairways only lead

Back to his dark world once more:

There's a merrier way we know

Leading to a lovelier night—

See, your casement all a-glow

Diamonding the wonder-light.

III

Fling the flowery lattice wide,

Let the silken ladder down,

Swiftly to the garden glide

Glimmering in your long white gown, Rosy from your pillow, sweet,

Come, unsandalled and divine;

Let the blossoms stain your feet

And the stars behold them shine.

IV

Swift, our pawing palfreys wait,

And the page—Dan Cupid—frets,

Holding at the garden gate

Reins that chime like castanets,

Bits a-foam with fairy flakes

Flung from seas whence Venus rose:

Come, for Father Time awakes

And the star of morning glows.

V

Swift—one satin foot shall sway

Half a heart-beat in my hand,

Swing to stirrup and swift away

Down the road to lovers' land:

Ride—the moon is dusky gold,

Ride—our hearts are young and warm,

Ride—the hour is growing old,

And the next may break the charm.

VI

Swift, ere we that thought the song

Full—for others—of the truth,

We that smiled, contented, strong,

Dowered with endless wealth of youth,

Find that like a summer cloud

Youth indeed has crept away,

Find the robe a clinging shroud

And the hair be-sprent with grey.

VII

Ride—we'll leave it all behind,

All the turmoil and the tears,

All the mad vindictive blind

Yelping of the heartless years!

Ride—the ringing world's in chase,

Yet we've slipped old Father Time,

By the love-light in your face

And the jingle of this rhyme.

VIII

Ride—for still the hunt is loud!

Ride—our steeds can hold their own!

Yours, a satin sea-wave, proud,

Queen, to be your living throne,

Glittering with the foam and fire

Churned from seas whence Venus rose,

Tow'rds the gates of our desire

Gloriously burning flows.

IX

He, with streaming flanks a-smoke,

Needs no spur of blood-stained steel:

Only that soft thudding stroke

Once, o' the little satin heel,

Drives his mighty heart, your slave,

Bridled with these bells of rhyme,

Onward, like a crested wave

Thundering out of hail of Time.

X

On, till from a rosy spark

Fairy-small as gleams your hand,

Broadening as we cleave the dark,

Dawn the gates of lovers' land, Nearing, sweet, till breast and brow

Lifted through the purple night

Catch the deepening glory now

And your eyes the wonder-light.

XI

E'en as tow'rd your face I lean

Swooping nigh the gates of bliss,

I the king and you the queen

Crown each other with a kiss.

Riding, soaring like a song

Burn we tow'rds the heaven above,

You the sweet and I the strong

And in both the fire of love.

XII

Ride—though now the distant chase

Knows that we have slipped old Time,

Lift the love-light of your face,

Shake the bridle of this rhyme,

See, the flowers of night and day

Streaming past on either hand,

Ride into the eternal May,

Ride into the lovers' land.