Читать книгу Poems - French Nora May - Страница 17

SAID the Old Year to the New: “They will never welcome you

As they sang me in and rang me in upon my birthday night —

All above the surging crowd, bells and voices calling loud —

A throng attuned to laughter and a city all alight.

“Kind had been the years of old, drowsy-lidded, zoned with gold;

They swept their purples down the bay and sped the homeward keel;

The years of fruits and peace, smiling days and rich increase —

Too indolent with wine and sun to grasp the slaying steel.

“As my brothers so I came, panther-treading, silken, tame;

The sword was light within my hand, I kept it sheathed and still —

The jeweled city prayed me and the laughing voices stayed me —

A little while I pleased them well and gave them all their will.

“As a panther strikes to slay, so I wrenched my shuddering prey.

I lit above the panic throng my torches’ crimson flare;

For they made my coming bright and I gave them light for light —

I filled the night with flaming wings and Terror’s streaming hair.

“They were stately walls and high – as I felled them so they lie —

Lie like bodies torn and broken, lie like faces seamed with scars;

Here where Beauty dwelt and Pride, ere my torches flamed and died,

The empty arches break the night to frame the tranquil stars.

“Though of all my brothers scorned, I, betrayer, go unmourned,

It is I who tower shoulder-high above the level years;

You who come to build anew, joy will live again with you,

But mightiest I who walked with Death and taught the sting of tears!”