DRAWING NEAR THE LIGHT (From Poems by the Way, 1892) But looking up, at last we see So now, amidst our day of strife, Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837-1909 CHORUS (From Atalanta in Calydon, 1865) 25 5 10 THE GARDEN OF PROSERPINE1 I watch the green field growing I am tired of tears and laughter, For men that sow to reap: Here life hath death for neighbour, 5 10 15 The old loves with wearier wings; And all dead years draw thither; And all disastrous things; Dead dreams of things forsaken, Blind buds that snows have shaken, Wild leaves that winds have taken, Red strays of ruined springs. 1 Proserpine was the child of Demeter, the motherearth. While gathering flowers in the Sicilian fields, she was caught up and carried off by Pluto, king of the Infernal regions, who made her queen of the lower realm, of darkness and death. She was afterwards permitted to leave the Shades for a part of each year and to visit Olympus. She typifies the corn, or grain, which passes from the dark prison in the earth to light, and leaves the light to return again to darkness. In this poem, Swinburne pictures the world as her garden, a place presided over by the Queen of the kingdom of darkness, a spot from which life is continually being carried off to the dark region of oblivion. And love, grown faint and fretful, From too much love of living, Winds somewhere safe to sea. Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any sound or sight: In an eternal night. PASTICHE1 (From Poems and Ballads, 1878) Now the days are all gone over Of our singing, love by lover, Days of summer-coloured seas Blown adrift through beam and breeze. Now the nights are all past over Now the loves with faith for mother, Now the morning faintlier risen A FORSAKEN GARDEN1 80 85 90 95 5 10 15 20 In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee Walled round with rocks as an inland island, The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. 1 Pastiche (or pasticcio) is the French word for a medley, or a work in imitation of the style of several masters. 1 The scene of this poem is said to be East Dene, Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight. ON THE DEATHS OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND GEORGE ELIOT Two souls diverse out of our human sight Pass, followed one with love and each with wonder: The stormy sophist with his mouth d thunder, Clothed with loud words and mantled in the might Of darkness and magnificence of night; And one whose eye could smite the night sunder, Searching if light or no light were there under, And found in love of loving-kindness light. Duty divine and Thought with eyes of fire Still following Righteousness with deep de sire Shone stern and firm before her and above Sure stars and sole to steer by; but more sweet Shone lower the loveliest lamp for earths feet, The light of little children and their love. & |