Three by Meynell V

Three poems by Alice Meynell.

The Day to the Night

The Poet sings to his Poet

From dawn to dusk, and from dusk to dawn,
   We two are sundered always, Sweet.
A few stars shake o'er the rocky lawn
   And the cold sea-shore when we meet.
   The twilight comes with thy shadowy feet.

We are not day and night, my Fair,
   But one. It is an hour of hours.
And thoughts that are not otherwhere
   Are thought here 'mid the blown sea-flowers,
   This meeting and this dusk of ours.

Delight has taken Pain to her heart,
   And there is dusk and stars for these.
O linger, linger! They would not part;
   And the wild wind comes from over-seas,
   With a new song to the olive trees.

And when we meet by the sounding pine
   Sleep draws near to his dreamless brother.
And when thy sweet eyes answer mine,
   Peace nestles close to her mournful mother,
   And Hope and Weariness kiss each other.

(from "Early Poems")

Chimes

Brief, on a flying night,
   From the shaken tower
A flock of bells take flight,
   And go with the hour.

Like birds from the cote to the gales,
   Abrupt—O hark!
A fleet of bells set sails,
   And go to the dark.

Sudden the cold airs swing.
   Alone, aloud,
A verse of bells takes wing
   And flies with the cloud.

(from "Later Poems")

Song of the Night at Daybreak

All my stars forsake me.
And the dawn-winds shake me.
Where shall I betake me?

Whither shall I run
Till the set of sun,
Till the day be done?

To the mountain-mine,
To the boughs o' the pine,
To the blind man's eyne,

To a brow that is
Bowed upon the knees,
Sick with memories?

(from "Early Poems")

The Poems of Alice Meynell: Complete Edition (1923), pp. 43, 75, 33. The book is on line here.

See also Three by Meynell IV: Three poems by Alice Meynell.

Lane Core Jr. CIW P — Sun. 02/13/05 09:28:39 AM
Categorized as Sunday Poetry Series.