Читать книгу Blooms of the Berry - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 9

The fields of space gleam bright, as if some ancient giant, old

As the moon and her extinguished mountains,

Had dipped his fingers huge into the twilight's sea of gold

And sprinkled all the heavens from these fountains.

In soft sad nights, when all the still lagoon

Lolls in a wealth of golden radiance,

I sit like one enchanted in a trance,

And see them 'twixt the haunted mist and moon.

Lascivious eyes 'neath snow-pale sensual brows,

Flashing hot, killing lust, and tresses light,

Lose, satin streaming, purple as the night,

Night when the storm sings and the forest bows.

And then, meseems, along the wild, fierce hills

A whisper and a rustle of fleet feet,

As if tempestuous troops of Mænads meet

To drain deep bowls and shout and have their wills.

And once I see large, lustrous limbs revealed,

Moth-white and lawny, 'twixt sonorous trees;

And then a song, faint as of fairy seas,

Lulls all my senses till my eyes are sealed.

With lips that were hoarse with a fury

Of foam and of winds that are strewn,

Of storm and of turbulent hurry,

The ocean roared, heralding soon

A birth of miraculous glory,

Of madness, affection – the moon.

And soon from her waist with a slipping

And shudder and clinging of light,

With a loos'ning and pushing and ripping

Of the raven-laced bodice of Night,

With a silence of feet and a dripping

The goddess came, virginal white.

And the air was alive with the twinkle

And tumult of silver-shod feet,

The hurling of stars, and the sprinkle

Of loose, lawny limbs and a sweet

Murmur and whisper and tinkle

Of beam-weaponed moon spirits fleet.