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 THEDANCEOF 
 THE jEASONS 
 
 HARMET 
 
 MCWBDE 
 

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THE DANCE OF 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 ByHARjaETiyVONRpE 
 
 Dtesiinsbv' 
 
 l^W FIETCHERSEVMOUR CO. 
 
^% 
 
 Copyright 1911 
 
 by 
 Harriet Monroe 
 
 Printed by courteous permission of the 
 
 Fortnightly Review^ in which the poem first aff eared 
 
 in May, igo8 
 
 
 3977 
 
 \ 
 
o 
 
 To K. McD. H. 
 
THE DANCE OF THE SEASONS 
 
 I — Spring 
 Allegro 
 
 Wake ! wake ! 
 Out of the snow and the mist, 
 In rain-wet, wind-blown gauze 
 Of amber and amethyst ". 
 
 Cometh Spring like a girl. 
 Trembling and timorous 
 She peers through the thin white thaws, 
 Afraid of the winds that whirl 
 Down paths all perilous 
 "Where her so tender feet are softly going, 
 Where the rich earth awaiteth her lavish 
 
 sowing 
 Of green and purple and white 
 In the gardens of day and night. 
 
 Hither she cometh— 
 Behold her, the wraith so frail! 
 The chill gray storm benumbeth 
 Her delicate fingers pale. 
 And looseth her hair from its fillet of pearl. 
 
 5 
 
THK DANCi: O^ THE SEASONS 
 
 Her soft dew-frosted eyes — 
 The virginal eyes of a girl — 
 Gaze at the foam-veiled skies, 
 Search for the sun who hideth 
 His amorous glowing face, 
 For the spirit of life that glideth 
 Unseen through every place. 
 
 Blown! blown — 
 Hither and yon, 
 Dashed by the winds that groan, 
 Lashed by the frost-elves wan, 
 Whipped by the envious ghosts of old years 
 
 long gone. 
 That chatter and sigh 
 Of the ruin nigh. 
 Of death and darkness and sorrow that come 
 
 anon. 
 Yet bold and brave 
 She dares — the young Spring — to dance on 
 
 that ancient grave. 
 To dance with delicate feet 
 On the world's despair and defeat. 
 On the "Winter that covereth all 
 With an ashen pall. 
 
 6 
 
run DANCE OF THE SEASONS 
 
 Lo, she lifts the cover — 
 A corner of that icy pall she lifts. 
 Lo earth, great-hearted lover, 
 Smiles upward through the dew-bespangled 
 
 rifts. 
 And shining sunbeams, pages of the day, 
 Roll up the mantle, bear it far away. 
 Then the earth laughs with pleasure, 
 And tosses from her treasure 
 Store of blue crocuses and snow-drops white, 
 Glad trilliums that make the woodland 
 
 bright, 
 Rich arbutus and shadowy violets; 
 Till, caught in webs of bloom. 
 Light-footed Spring her stormy woe forgets. 
 Forgets the cold, the gloom. 
 Blesses with errant grace 
 Each dim forgotten place. 
 Casts on the oak its rosy velvet dress 
 Of drooping leaves, muffles the maples bare 
 In lilac veils, covers with tenderness 
 The harsh brown world ; and then, when all is 
 
 won, 
 Trails languorous dreams, dreams exquisite 
 
 and rare. 
 
THE DANCE O^ THE SEASONS 
 
 And shrinking from the bold, too fervid sun, 
 She giveth over 
 Her royal lover 
 
 Like one afraid of love, who will not stay- 
 Lovers perfect day. 
 She giveth over — 
 Inconstant rover — 
 Her glad green garlanded world, and like 
 
 the dew 
 Sleeps in the blue. 
 She tosseth down 
 Her flowery crown 
 Into the lap of Summer — 
 Glad newcomer! — 
 Smiling adorns her with treasure of growing 
 
 things 
 And softly sings, 
 The while she fades in light — 
 A wraith, a mist 
 Of amethyst; 
 
 A spirit, a dream that goeth. 
 But whither — who knoweth? 
 
TH^ DANCi: 01^ THK SEASONS 
 II — SUMME^R 
 
 Andante 
 
 Hush ! hush ! 
 Wake not the drowsy Summer — she would 
 
 dream, 
 Heavy with growing things. 
 Dance lightly where her beauty lies a-gleam 
 'Neath languidly folded wings. 
 Over the delicate grasses 
 A breath, a spirit passes, 
 A song, and the odor of bloom — 
 Give way! make room! 
 The Summer hath met her lover 
 By day, by night; 
 He hath brought from the stars — bright 
 
 rover ! — 
 Heaven's fire, heaven's light! 
 He hath filled her with life that sleepeth, 
 That waits for birth, 
 As a jewel its secret keepeth 
 In the rock-bound earth. 
 
 9 
 
THE DANCE O^ THE SEASONS 
 
 Softly, slowly 
 Dance and sway, 
 While Summer dreameth 
 The moons away. 
 Full weary she seemeth 
 Of love's deep bliss, 
 But holy, holy 
 Love's memories. 
 
 The idle day is rich with budding 
 things 
 Whereon the bold sun glares. 
 Dance lightly, lest thou tread on folded 
 
 wings, 
 Of flight still unawares. 
 Ah, delicate thy foot-fall be, while ever 
 The seed grows in the corn. 
 The bird in the egg, the deed in the endeavor, 
 The day in the morn. 
 
 Deep in the pool the spawning fishes play; 
 High in the air the bees buzz out their way. 
 Everywhere 
 The children of Summer come crowding in 
 
 lustrous array — 
 The myriad children of Summer, beloved of 
 
 the sun; 
 
 10 
 
the: dance of the seasons 
 
 Through the long hot noons they are glad of 
 
 the world they have won. 
 Bright and fair 
 They throng in the meadows and shake out 
 
 the dew from their hair; 
 They sing in the tree-tops, they dip in the 
 
 slow-flowing stream; 
 They nod from the hills, in the valleys their 
 
 swift feet gleam; 
 They kneel in the moon-light, the bright stars 
 
 hear their prayer. 
 Everywhere 
 
 The high sun blesses them, 
 The moon confesses them. 
 Old Time with patient smile 
 Harks to their hope awhile. 
 They are born, they awake, their arise — yea, 
 
 they dance in their bloom; 
 For their revels of love and of wonder the 
 
 earth makes room. 
 Yea, she harketh their song for a season, she 
 
 kisseth their feet; 
 She giveth her all for their hour— be its joy 
 
 complete. 
 
 11 
 
the: dance 01^ THE SEASONS 
 
 The fecund Summer then 
 Veileth her eyes again — 
 Dreameth, at rest. 
 Young mother of life who feedeth 
 The world at her breast; 
 Rich bride of the year, who needeth 
 But love and light 
 To give, and give more, and give all 
 In her great love 's might. 
 Tread softly, give heed to her call — 
 Oh be still ! be fleet ! 
 
 Hush — hush the sweet sound of thy singing; 
 Pause — pause, ye feet! 
 Sink down ! she bids thee rest 
 Close on her breast. 
 Down! down! thy rapture flinging 
 "Where all her dreams are winging. 
 Ah, cease thy quest! 
 Peace! — be blest! 
 Be blest! 
 
 12 
 
THE DANCE OF THE SEASONS 
 
 III — Autumn 
 
 Scherso 
 
 Come with me — 
 All that live ! 
 Dance with me — 
 Love — and give! 
 Give me your love, ye souls of the corn and 
 
 the vine ! 
 Dance with me ! laugh with me ! crowd me ! 
 
 be mine — be mine! 
 Up from the earth in your splendor of scarlet 
 
 and gold — 
 Haste, oh make haste ere the warm rich year 
 
 grow old! 
 Ye throngs that gaily rise 
 Multitudinous 
 
 As the red, red leaves that flutter 
 All tremulous 
 
 When the wind rides down from the skies; 
 Ye spirits that shout and mutter 
 In laughter, in pain. 
 When the year of her sowing and reaping 
 
 13 
 
the: dance 01? the: seasons 
 
 Would waste again, 
 
 Come, spend of your treasure, full heaping, 
 
 Be lavish, be bold! 
 
 Cast your hope on the winds, from your feet 
 
 shake the dark damp mold; 
 Come dancing, come shouting, come leaping, 
 Ere the earth grow cold! 
 
 Come, ye wings of the air ; come, ye 
 feet that trample the grasses! 
 Come, ye tree-top spirits that kindle the 
 
 leaves to flame ! 
 Come, sprites of the sea that shout when the 
 
 gray storm passes ! 
 Come, wraiths of the desert whom sorrow nor 
 
 death may tame ! 
 Come eat of the rich ripe fruit, come drink of 
 
 the vine ! 
 Come dance till your revels are drunken with 
 
 joy, with wine. 
 For the labor is over and done. 
 The spoil of the battle is won! 
 Ah trample it, scatter it, 
 Cast it afar! 
 
 The tempests will batter it — 
 On with the war! 
 
 14 
 
TH^ dance: O^ the seasons 
 
 Let your bright robes float, let them whirl 
 with the rush of your feet — 
 
 The gauzes of crimson and gold! 
 
 Give your will to the winds — they are chas- 
 ing, they haste, they are fleet; 
 
 They are eager and ruthless and bold. 
 
 On ! on ! till ye circle the earth with the rush 
 of your dancing, 
 
 AVith the shout and the song; 
 
 Till your choral of crowds, like a river in 
 flood-time advancing, 
 
 Bears all things along ! 
 
 Dance ! dance ! for the end comes soon — 
 
 Do ye feel the chill? 
 
 White winds of the Winter croon 
 
 From their cave in the hill. 
 
 Yea, death and the end come soon — 
 
 Spread your gaudy robes! 
 
 Haste! haste! for the leaves are falling. 
 
 Shout! shout! for the storms are calling. 
 
 Give all, ere the year grow old, 
 
 Ere the world grow cold. 
 
 15 
 
THE DANCE 0^ THE SEASONS 
 
 IV — Winter 
 Pinale 
 
 Fly! fly! 
 Gather your white robes close — 
 Scuttle away! 
 Look ! in the sky 
 The bleak winds mutter morose 
 To the swift dark day. 
 They gather and threaten and scold, 
 They shiver and shriek in their rage. 
 They are ashen and icy and old — 
 Ah, bitter the passion of age! 
 Flee from them ! haste — haste 
 Through the vengeful weather ! 
 Lest your red blood chill 
 And your hearts stop still, 
 Crowd close together 
 And flee o'er the drear dead waste! 
 
 Down! down! 
 Out of a sky all brown 
 The dark storm stoops to shrivel the world 
 
 away. 
 
 16 
 
THE DANCE OF THE SEASONS 
 
 With ribald winds lie strips her, 
 With stinging sleet he whips her, 
 With envious frost he withers her green to 
 
 gray. 
 Because she was gay and glad, 
 Beloved of many lovers, fruitful mother 
 Of many children crowding and killing each 
 
 other ; 
 Because she was wasteful mad, 
 Scattering and trampling her riches for 
 
 death to smother. 
 Now shall she starve and freeze 
 And pray on her stiffened knees. 
 .Now shall she helpless lie 
 And the powers of the air will mock her; 
 The spirits she dared defy 
 Will rend her and blind her and shock her. 
 With white, white snow they will bury her 
 
 passion deep 
 Till it's dumb, till it's cold. 
 They will whistle and roar in their triumph, 
 
 and orgies keep 
 Till her heart grows old. 
 They will put out her love-lit sun like the 
 
 torch at a feast. 
 
 17 
 
THE DANCE Olf THE SEASONS 
 
 And with haughty carousals make wanton 
 
 his court in the east. 
 They will brush down the stars like white 
 
 feathers far blown on dark waves, 
 And the night will be black as they dance on 
 
 the ghost-thronged graves. 
 
 Haste ! haste ! 
 Your garments are torn, they are sheeted 
 
 with ice, 
 In your wind-loosed hair 
 The sharp sleet rattles. 
 Ye are hurled, chased 
 To the Winter's lair — 
 Ye have paid the price. 
 Ye have bled in her battles. 
 Now shelter your woe 
 And be still, be still! 
 Let the night-winds go 
 To their cave in the hill ! 
 Let the dark clouds flee 
 Through the gates of the west, 
 Till the earth rides free 
 Who was sore oppressed. 
 
 18 
 
THE DANCK OF THE) S Ej A S N S 
 
 For weary of orgies that ravage 
 
 Is Winter now. 
 
 From the heel of a tyrant savage 
 
 She lifts her brow. 
 
 Lo, the wrath of the storm is over, 
 
 And under a moon-white cover 
 
 Lies the world asleep. 
 
 So still, so pale — 
 
 Dance bravely, lest thou quail 
 
 And pause to weep. 
 
 Over the flower-soft snow 
 
 Still as the lost wind go 
 
 To open the gates of day. 
 
 Where watcheth yon lone pale star 
 
 Crimson and golden are 
 
 The curtains that shake and sway. 
 
 Ah lift them ! look, through the rift 
 
 Comes the sun adrift ! 
 
 He kindles the snow to fire. 
 
 He bids the dead earth aspire. 
 
 Ah dance! from the yearns white grave 
 
 New blooms will blow. 
 
 Dance lightly, wistfully — save 
 
 The life below ! 
 
 Softly ! the world is still — 
 
 19 
 
TH^ DANC^ 01^ THE SEASONS 
 
 Hush thine errant will! 
 
 No longer the dream pursue! 
 
 Rest — rest, till the dream come true ! 
 
 Wait ! hope I be still ! 
 
 20 
 
One 
 
 copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 IAN 21 19!2 
 

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