Poems B, Preston Clark, Jr. UCSB LIBRARr Poems By B. PRESTON CLARK, Jr. Boston The Four Seas Company Copyright, 1920, by The Four Seas Company The Pour Seas Press Boston, Mass., U. S. A. TO THESE THREE FRIENDS WHO GAVE THEIR LIVES IN THE GREAT WAR THESE POEMS ARE DEDICATED CAPT. BRANTON HOLSTEIN KELLOGG LIEUT. RICHMOND YOUNG PRIV. RICHARD MATHER JOPLING For poems reprinted in this volume, acknowledge- ments are due to the editors of "The Century Maga- zine," "The Poetry Journal," "The Harvard Advocate," "The Harvard Musical Review," "The Harvard Lampoon," and "The Harvard Monthly." CONTENTS Page SONNETS 1 9 II 10 III ii IV 12 V 13 SONNET 14 A DREAM OF NINEVEH 15 MY APRIL 16 To R 17 To R. P. W 18 ILLUSION 19 L/ANCIENNE AMOUREUSE ....... 20 NOCTURNE 21 AT DUSK 22 NOCTURNES 23 THE BELLS 25 GHOSTS 26 THE DREAM 27 THE FAUN 28 DUSK 29 FAITH 30 QUATRAIN 31 AUTUMN 32 THE GARDEN OF THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE .... 33 SONNETS I. Once more along the undulating seas Of blowing wheat I see the summer flowers, And faintly smell rain-dripping apple-trees Across a shining interval of showers. This flux of life regardless of our reasons, Our passionate strivings and our love and hate Surely this spirit of unfailing seasons Is something at the heart of God's estate. Surely this ancient temple of loud war With all its images of brutal death Is less a sign than summer at my door And the assurance of the old sea's breath. Sorrow of man, that is a moment's worth Beside the immortality of earth. [9] II. I watched the dusk upon the sea delay, And in the shallows the black herons stalked, And in the leaves some lonely spirit talked, Then a gray pause and then the end of day. I saw the tide turn by the river's edge, And cedars stand more black against the sky, And something dark that swooped and fluttered by, And herons leaving the tide-covered ledge. Stars stirred at the beginning of the night, And wind, descending, made the still leaves quiver, And once a fish splashed in the silent river. There was no beauty in the white stars' light. Then, as a thread breaks and disaster comes, Came in the stillness a far roll of drums. [10] III. Peace and the languid hours by the fire, The tranquil country by the tranquil sea Where are you fled that loosed our souls' desire To walk with stars and wind in ecstasy? Peace with your mother's bosom and your balm, That waited at the gate of evening's gloom To greet our fretful coming with your calm, How have you left us in this day of doom? Peace gave her best of life to those she bore, And twilight creeping on her splendid day Is loud with clamour of her sons at war, Fighting for Peace in God's gigantic way. At last earth's manhood battles toward the dawn, And those who die are Peace for those unborn. IV. Again I see the magic dusty street, Wind-loud and washed with sunset afterglow, Where under amber walls the people go With gentle hush of softly falling feet. Some Puck goes darting past me in the night, Shrill-shrieking, and the silence broken so, I cease my steps already grown so slow To whistle underneath your window's light. Time passes . . . and the dreams of dusk are fled Before the shadow of the night's descent, And greater dreams are born of their intent To lift the night of darkness and of dread. Down Holyoke street, soldiers are passing by Beneath the ice-green, late November sky. [12] V. Then Autumn when I thought the summer still Was in full glory in my garden bright Quietly killed my flowers in the night, And turned the maples crimson on the hill. Somehow this spell of golden and blue days, Afield the drowsy crickets ceaseless song, Fills one so full of dreams that overlong One travels in the pleasant summer ways. I will awake and work this last night's frost Shatters the summer's dream with one sharp word, As once a world-wide battle cry was heard, And Death's reward proved greater than Death's cost. As once the young men went from this old town To build an altar on a shattered crown. [13] SONNET Too often have I turned impatient eyes Inward, upon some darkness in my soul, Until the blackness blotted out the whole Of life's resplendent beauty with its lies; Until some flower's sweetness or a face, Some bit of God, recalled me from my shame, That I was touched with Heaven's earthly flame, And found eternal beauty in that place. The deeper, common beauty that we slight, I think would make this gray world rich again ;- Old people plodding down an Autumn lane The lesser stars upon a silver night The glory of a blue and faded frock The sun on city walls at five o'clock. [14] A DREAM OF NINEVEH Thus in the crystal my imagining Saw all the gilded domes of Nineveh, And on a towering elephant, the king, Riding resplendent in his crimson car. I saw the jade gates open from afar, Heard in the dusk a thousand bronze bells ring, And loud the voices of the revellers sing Within the ancient walls of Nineveh. Then the moon came over the empty plain Painting the golden Nineveh like lead, As though it were a city where the dead Held ghastly pantomime of life again. Out of the gates an elephant loomed striding, And on his back a skeleton was riding. MY APRIL There is a day of April in my heart, Flooded with fragrance of plowed fields and rain, And laughter at the cross-roads where we part, And laughter at the place we meet again. The magic of my April has no name ; Not Spring, nor all the glory to come after, My April is the Joy the earth became, Hearing the sweet abandon of your laughter. The memory of laughter lingers still, Like some bird's singing after he has flown, Or echoes thrown from hill to answering hill, That never die or leave the heart alone. Death cannot still the echoes Love awakes, So April and your laughter he forsakes. [16] TO R. When rain upon the windows of my soul, Beats down in angry torrents from on high, Hiding the golden sun that is the goal Of dreams unnumbered battling up the sky, I hear the dismal music and the rush Of rain and wind in wandering discontent, Then suddenly a blank, abysmal hush Smothers the loud confusion of lament. Such silence strikes my courage with despair, As might a warrior, who sees his foe Vanish into the nothingness of air Gaze down upon his useless sword in woe. Then, in my utmost hour you appear, And once more I am master of my fear. [17] TO R. P. W. When church-bells break the quiet city's calm With silver-toned recall to morning prayer, And joyful chimes delight the golden air I feel the soul of David in their psalm. They talk with tongues of' singing faith, until I hear the ringing depths of David's voice Across the centuries 'Rejoice, Rejoice/ And I go forth with fire for his will. And yet upon my joy there steals a sorrow, That David losing Jonathan could feel; Ah, marks that memory will not let heal ! The yesterday that is the heart's tomorrow. The choir-boy that brings you back to me Youth and our great adventures by the sea. [18] ILLUSION When youth unknowing loved a ghost of thee, He was a star-mad fool who saw thy face In every living loveliness and grace, And heard thy voice in every melody. How many nights youth heard the murmurous sea Chanting love's promise in a moon-charmed place, And watched the silver messengers of space, Constant, it seemed, with thine own constancy. And now . . when dream-eyed youth grows more a man, When gleam and glamour deepen to desire Of greater mysteries and purer fire . . . How has age changed the witchcraft youth began? Still ... all the stars, thou dream, are this to me, That youth unending loves a ghost of thee. [19] L'ANCIENNE AMOUREUSE So, if the thrush delights my soul no more, And laughter is a legend of dead days, It is that you have lately left my door, And I have need of you and your old ways. I still await your tread upon the stair When the deep heat has left with the last light, Still feel your gaze when I unloose my hair, And lift my arms in tremulous delight. If there is no more sweetness in men's praise, And stars are feeble fires to my sight, It is because you gave my lover's gaze A radiance that has made the world less bright. Yet there is something of the love I knew This still room with its memory of you. [20] NOCTURNE The summer lightning flashes silver fire, Like broken swords against the starless night, And one tall cedar, like a village spire, Stands silent in the suddenness of light. Here by the sleeping sea I shall await Until the friendly tide returns to me, Stirring the silence at the river's gate To whispered words of wonder from the sea. Far in the night a golden ship goes by, Like some slow serpent with a jeweled side, And from the land a night bird's lonely cry Pierces the stirring of the stealing tide. Then on the black and gold the rain descends, And I remember how all glory ends. [21] AT DUSK (A VERSE COUPLET) i. I played an aria on my flute at dusk, And she was still as the leaves on the shadowed hill, As voiceless as the imminent sea. I sang to her a song of love, And she seemed somehow far from me unhearing Depthless in her immutability ; Then I was silent, And the leaves stirred under the new stars, The sea took up its song upon the sands, And somehow her hand crept magic into mine. 2. He played me an aria on his flute at dusk, Like thrushes in an April wind, Till all my heart ran silver with his lilt. He sang me a song of love, And I was dumb with crowding answers, And prayed the great magician for one word. Then he was silent, And the leaves stirred under our new stars, The sea took up our song upon the sands, And somehow magic crept about our hands. [22] NOCTURNES I. Tonight, The moon is like a golden lamp Glowing through clouds of gray incense; There are no stars, And a damp wind is creeping Up from the South. The trees are very black, The slender grape vine trembles in the cool wind, And white moths hurry over the wet meadow ; The clouds float across the moon, Gray and silently, And on the shore I hear the long sloping swell, Rolling sullenly in Tomorrow there will be a storm. [23] II. This is the night of white moths That flutter and play Over the tall grass in the meadows, And in the gardens Nestle in the blue irises and dull red roses. The world is a pale blue flower-garden, Lit by dim stars And a crescent moon, And pillaged by many white moths. The grass is silver with many cobwebs ; The cedars are asleep, And the scent of the honeysuckle Is very sweet in the air Tonight is the night of white moths. [24] THE BELLS In the surf of the wind and the trees The bells And the silver fleet of the stars by my window drifting . . . I who am I to hear the bells in the surf And watch stars sailing? In the surf of the wind and the trees The bells Gashing quivering dying And the silver fleet of the stars by my window drifting . . . I w ho am I to hear the bells in the surf, And watch stars sailing? [25] GHOSTS 'There must be ghosts all the country over, As thick as the sands of the sea' Ghosts of other days and ways, Days that were beautiful when we were we. There is one ghost that lurks behind The songs I sing of thee; Among the songs the waves sing In the eternal sea. There is a ghost in every wind that blows, In every leaf that stirs in lethargy, Summer and winter all the ghosts compound The discontent your magic left with me. I am a haunted flame in the sunset of laughter, Who am I since we were we? There must be ghosts all the country over, As thick as the sands of the sea.' [26] THE DREAM Perhaps the very amplitude of grace Made the slow dawn Spreading its fire on the eastern sky Seem less a thing of wonderment to me . . . I was still dreamy with the gaze of stars, Still listening for your lute among the leaves, When suddenly the white day came, and Oh my heart ! Like a shrill cry destroyed my reverie. The shadowed host of night sped down the dawn, And on the sand the singing waves Fled chattering away . . . A child who dreams, Wakened by an amazing lantern light, Turns sobbingly Still with the cob-web of the pleasant dream Clinging upon his eyes, Even as I (surprised by the incontinent day,) Buried my face in my half-hiding hands . . . Yet in the crevices of light My dream escaped. [27] THE FAUN And so I caught a glint of life Like sun upon a spider's thread, And guessed at what the green leaves said That held the ends I could not see And he He held the leaves apart until the flame Of sun ran down the slender length of thread, And then as quickly shadowed with his head, Thread, sun and leaves, and whispered me my name, And I I reached with my two arms and found him there, In his own shadow, and drew him down the stair Of talking leaves, until he lay Beside me in the golden day. [28] DUSK There is a western drift of clouds, And one like a rose-radiant scythe Across the last light curtain of the day . . . Under the bridge the grey, hushed river runs, And in the leaves brush wings of a light wind. The poplars sway and bend their heads Beneath the burden of the dusk, And in the imminence of night One lone black heron silently Drifts and descends . [29] FAITH I have seen to-day An old, old woman in a market cart; The old horse swayed Until the shafts just seemed to hold him on his feet: Wheels, cart, and horse seemed like a broken heart Ready to crumble in the dust. Only the eyes of the old woman That watched the road ahead, And her thin hands upon the reins Saved the frail dream. f30] QUATRAIN There is a splendid truth in swimming with you, Beneath gray skies toward the end of the endless sea, Into the waves and the wind and the v^onders to be, Free as an arrow cleaving the green and the blue. AUTUMN It is like a vision of brave death, This silent-sandalled army on the hills; Somehow the dwindling banners on the downs, Last caperings of clowns, Last golden goblets filled and tipped and spilled, Last glints of waving scarves Upon the battlements of Camelot; Somehow the dwindling banners on the downs, The fading flash of armour trappings swords The last Crusaders crumbling castle walls; Green rushes in the mud of moats, And boats and barges buried underneath. It seems the autumn leaves stir there, To trace a little gold, write something fair Upon the black place of forgetfulness, Something in memory "Stand back! for Guinevere shall pass." [32] THE GARDEN OF THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE Here in this quiet garden place, Lilac and cherry hedged, There is a sad content like a fair face Weary in sleep . . . The green long grass gold-wedged with dandelions The deep cool shadows of the distant pines Against an azure sky blown with white cloud There is a presence gone, An emptiness more loud than the bird's song; Yet with the sun and apple-blossoms blows A bravery like life itself, Something unfaltering and deep with faith, Like the pink slender sprays of peach Standing against the gray wall's reach. [33J UCSB LIBRARY A 000604192 5