'F CALIFORNIA SAN D EGO 
 
 3 1822 00194 9569 
 
 ric J\.D.Maclagan 
 
 "A m 
 
 V4? f% 
 
 California 
 Regional 
 facility 
 
 
 Howard Wilford Befl 
 
 EM. 
 
 London 
 
 1901
 
 JNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGC 
 
 3 1822 00194 9569
 
 LEAVES IN THE ROAD
 
 LEAVES^ ROAD 
 
 Eric.I\.D.Macldgan 
 
 
 Howard Wilford Bell 
 .London 1901
 
 TO 
 R. E. R. 
 
 OXFORD 
 1901.
 
 ET JE M'EN VAIS 
 AU VENT MAUVAIS 
 
 QUI M'EMPORTE 
 DEQA, DELA, 
 PAREIL A LA 
 
 FEUILLE MORTE. 
 
 VERLAINE
 
 A COMPLAINT CONCERNING FIVE 
 CHAINS 
 
 I have tasted the splendour of things forgotten, 
 
 I have dipped my lips in a wonderful wine, 
 Though the roses that scent it are sere and rotten 
 
 The passionate red of their hearts is mine ; 
 And you bid me turn from the Prince's Palace, 
 
 As the pale-eyed dawn through the curtain peers, 
 To the bitter draught of a meagre chalice, 
 
 A wine that is mixed with the water of tears. 
 
 I have pressed my fingers on bowls of amber 
 Where the vapours of cedar and sandal rise, 
 
 Where the hot lithe trails of the red rose clamber 
 From neck to brow and from brow to eyes ; 
 
 i B
 
 From the smooth floor scattered with scarlet petals, 
 You would have me kneel on a pavement bare, 
 
 Where the biting fume of your incense settles 
 In cold gray coils on the cloistered air. 
 
 I have clad me about in silken raiment 
 
 Inwrought with gold as a flame of fire, 
 That came from the East with a life for payment 
 
 By a merchant that journeyed in ships of Tyre : 
 And how should I cast it aside with loathing 
 
 And follow humbly with ankles bare, 
 And set on my body for delicate clothing 
 
 The girdle of cord and the cloth of hair ? 
 
 I have heard as I threaded the turning mazes 
 
 That pass and pass till the day begins, 
 The sweet shrill lips that have sung my praises, 
 
 The voice of the flutes and the violins : 
 Must I too stand at your sombre altar 
 
 And listen low in the chapels dim 
 To the heavy tide of your chaunted psalter, 
 
 The sobbing wail of your lenten hymn ?
 
 I have seen in silent and sidelong glances, 
 
 Till soul and sense hung nigh on my lips, 
 White limbs that twined in the clinging dances 
 
 And bodies swayed to the finger tips, 
 Bright hair that burned as a taper burning, 
 
 Red lips that shone as a round rose shines ; 
 And must my eyes follow the slow priest turning, 
 
 The dark choir bowed in their kneeling lines ? 
 
 Ah, Christ ! Thou seest the bonds that bind me, 
 
 The five strong chains of my senses five, 
 That gather and coil and cling behind me, 
 
 That I may not sever, though sore I strive. 
 Faint blossom at even thy five Red Roses, 
 
 And I loathe my bonds, and I love them well, 
 And ever about me the darkness closes . . . 
 
 Deliver my soul from the Gates of Hell !
 
 THREE TRIOLETS 
 
 i 
 
 None can cleave asunder 
 This my love from me, 
 
 Men may gaze and wonder, 
 
 None can cleave asunder; 
 
 Nay, with all the thunder 
 Of the severing sea, 
 
 None can cleave asunder 
 This my love from me.
 
 2 
 
 Stars must hide their faces 
 
 At the dawn of day ; 
 As in heavenly places 
 Stars must hide their faces, 
 So her memory chases 
 Other dreams away ; 
 Stars must hide their faces 
 At the dawn of day.
 
 3 
 Dare ye match her glory, 
 
 Ye that loved of old ? 
 Stars of song and story, 
 Dare ye match her glory ; 
 Ladies of Malory, 
 
 Guenevere, Isold, 
 Dare ye match her glory, 
 
 Ye that loved of old ?
 
 THE GHOSTLY HUNTERS 
 
 The dead man lay upon the bed 
 
 With candles four and four, 
 But the soul crouched whimpering by his head 
 
 And feared the open door. 
 
 Out of his hole the gray rat ran, 
 
 Out of his hole the mouse, 
 Because the soul of the dead man 
 
 Was tarrying in the house. 
 
 The soul fled out into the wind 
 
 Before the midnight bell, 
 And ever flying heard behind 
 
 The ghostly Hunters yell. 
 
 7
 
 The Hunters drive with hounds of flame 
 
 The fleeting souls of men, 
 By the Heavenly gates and the door of Shame 
 
 To Middle earth again. 
 
 They ran beneath the dripping caves, 
 
 Beyond the drifting sky, 
 And above a roaring as of waves 
 
 Rose shrill the windy cry; 
 
 They swept across the misty plain 
 
 In ever nearing chase, 
 And the weary soul dropped down again 
 
 To seek a hiding place. 
 
 A little hour before the morn 
 
 The mother lay abed ; 
 The sun rose and the child was born 
 
 And the ghostly Hunters fled.
 
 A CHANCE 
 
 As two pale shells, two twines 
 
 Of the sea's fruitless vines, 
 Are flung together in the surges' thunder, 
 
 To nestle, each by each, 
 
 Safe on the sheltering beach 
 Till the next wave shall tear them far asunder ; 
 
 Even so, Beloved, we, 
 
 Caught in Time's restless sea, 
 And joined at hazard of the sharp wave's spurning, 
 
 One moment may abide 
 
 And then are dashed aside 
 
 To wait, and watch, and pray our wave's returning. 
 
 9
 
 No wish of ours may stay 
 
 Or speed it on its way, 
 Stirred by the pulse of some far ocean weather 
 
 This pray we ; in that hour 
 
 May its resistless power 
 Spare us or slay, but spare or slay together. 
 
 10
 
 MONT SAINT MICHEL. 1899 
 
 Here in the marvellous Isle am I 
 
 Kneeling awhile by the barren choir, 
 And thou in the empty air on high 
 
 Burnest all gold at the topmost spire ; 
 Lord of the land and the splendid sea, 
 Glorious Michael, fight for me. 
 
 Under the sweep of the sheer sea wall 
 
 The white foam rushes to touch the land, 
 And over the rock the surges fall 
 
 And seethe, and sever, and flood the sand ; 
 Lord of the Isle and the roaring sea, 
 Pitiful Michael, stand for me. 
 ii
 
 The moon slides out and the clouds pass by 
 
 And the golden armour to silver turns, 
 But ever above where the sea-mews fly 
 The Wonderful Guardian stands and burns; 
 Lord of the sky and the shining sea, 
 Merciful Michael, pray for me. 
 
 12
 
 THE FAR COUNTRY 
 
 Thou wast a lady sweet to see 
 
 With tender eyes and wealth of hair, 
 
 Now thou art gone to the Far Country 
 And never a one shall name thee fair. 
 
 Kings' sons were suitors unto thee, 
 Thou shouldst have been a royal bride, 
 
 Now thou art gone to the Far Country 
 And shapeless things are by thy side. 
 
 Great scorn hadst thou of such as we 
 And little heed of how we sped, 
 
 Now thou art gone to the Far Country 
 And beggars are above thy head. 
 13
 
 THE IDOL 
 
 I dreamed I was an Idol, and I sat 
 
 Still as a crystal, smiling as a cat, 
 
 Where silent priests through immemorial hours 
 
 Wove for my head mysterious scarlet flowers. 
 
 Far down, the dusty daylight stabbed the air 
 And kindled into gold the painted hair 
 Of those imperious impotent images 
 That brooded in the perfumed silences. 
 
 There, as I waited, day by changeless day, 
 My people brought their gifts and knelt to pray, 
 And I alone, of all that dwelt apart, 
 Had pity on my people in my heart ;
 
 Had pity on the sad that mourned their dead, 
 Had pity on the poor that cried for bread, 
 Had pity most on boy and girl that came 
 And prayed for love, and loving blest my name 
 
 But in my unavailing pity sat 
 Still as a crystal, smiling as a cat.
 
 TO A BOY, WITH "THE 
 ADVENTURES OF ODYSSEUS" 
 (FOR R. B. M.) 
 
 I send you, for a little time, 
 Faint echoes of a lordlier rhyme, 
 Half told in words that cannot speak 
 The rolling glory of the Greek ; 
 But you shall hear yourself, ere long, 
 The minstrel's tale, the Siren's song, 
 And catch from Homer's ringing lips 
 The thunder of the meeting ships. 
 Then, when in some forgotten nook 
 You find, one day, this dusty book, 
 Think, for one moment thanking me, 
 " Here first I read the Odyssey." 
 16
 
 SPONSA MORTIS 
 
 Make close the eastern windows 
 
 for the dying night 
 Without grows pale ; but here 
 
 upon their altars, light 
 Many a tawny taper 
 
 in pure sacrifice 
 To gaze upon my marriage 
 
 with compassionate eyes. 
 Lift from my weary body 
 
 all her pomp of gems, 
 The weight of necklaces 
 
 and awful anadems, 
 Ere the sad sapphires kindle 
 
 into alien blue;
 
 And clothe me in the clean 
 
 virginal white anew, 
 That thrills my aching limbs 
 
 with sudden cool embrace ; 
 But first, above the heavy 
 
 hair that crowns my face, 
 Bind fast a linen veil 
 
 to hold my ears unmoved 
 By all the clamour of 
 
 the waters I have loved. 
 
 So, being clad devoutly, 
 
 with unhurrying feet, 
 Across the threshold I 
 
 go forth at last to meet, 
 After his courtship of 
 
 innumerable days, 
 A more tremendous bridegroom 
 
 than your lips can praise. 
 
 18
 
 THE HOST OF AIR 
 
 O vast implacable host of air, 
 
 Will you not give us a little rest 
 From the crying of passion and despair, 
 And treading of feet on an old stair, 
 And laughter, and beating of the breast ? 
 
 Your windy banners shall not be furled, 
 
 Nor your fires die under the hill, 
 Nor your shrill spears cease to be hurled 
 Until in the final flame the world 
 Is burnt into crystal, and is still.
 
 ABSENCE 
 
 Here in the room, where all things keep 
 Their lingering memories of you, 
 I sit and hunger all day through 
 
 For night that brings me dreams and sleep. 
 
 The curtain, faint with tarnished gold, 
 And blossoms in whose silk there clings 
 A perfume of forgotten things, 
 
 Hangs idly swaying, fold by fold ; 
 
 The glimmering mirror seems to wait 
 For you to cloud it with your breath 
 In gazing; and the rose beneath 
 
 For lack of you is desolate, 
 20
 
 The rose that, sickening in the sun, 
 Droops wearily out of the tall 
 Venetian chalice, letting fall 
 
 Her scented petals, one by one. 
 
 21
 
 THE INTRUDER 
 
 I thought to live in solitude apart, 
 
 A watcher in the sea-girt tower, 
 While in the untrodden roadways of my heart 
 
 I heard the grass grow, hour by hour. 
 
 I dwelt remote from laughter and from sighs, 
 These many days, until you came 
 
 With your insatiable indifferent eyes 
 Blue as the blue heart of a flame. 
 
 Now all the day there thunders in my ears 
 
 The tumult of the circling sea, 
 And, fed with frankincense of hopes and fears, 
 
 The flame consumes my heart and me. 
 22
 
 HYMN TO APHRODITE 
 AFTER SAPPHO 
 
 Immortal Goddess of the Broidered Chair, 
 
 Wile-weaving Child of Zeus, my prayer receive ; 
 No more, dread Queen, with anguish and despair 
 My spirit grieve. 
 
 But hither speed and hearken, if afar 
 
 Thou e'er hast heard my pleading voice of old, 
 And left behind thee in thy yoked car 
 The halls of gold, 
 
 Thy father's house ; the sparrows fleet and fair 
 
 That bore thee swiftly round the black world's girth 
 Smote with their multitudinous wings the air 
 'Twixt heaven and earth ; 
 
 23
 
 Sudden they came ; but thou, my Lady blest, 
 
 With strange sweet smile upon thy deathless face, 
 Didst ask me why, with what new care opprest, 
 I sought thy grace ; 
 
 Didst bid me tell thee for what beauty new, 
 
 What new desire my passionate soul might long. 
 " Whom shall I draw to love thee, Psappha ? who 
 Hath done thee wrong ? 
 
 For though she fly thee, she shall yet pursue, 
 
 Yea, though she shun thy gifts, she yet shall give, 
 Yea, though she love not, she shall love thee too, 
 Though sore she strive." 
 
 Then come, I pray thee, come, to rid me now 
 
 From my sad care; then, whatsoe'er my heart 
 Would see fulfilled, fulfil it ; and do thou 
 Take up my part.
 
 TEARS 
 
 AFTER PALLADAS 
 
 Once among tears I was born, and now after 
 
 tears I am dead, 
 And all through the life I lived, many the tears 
 
 that I shed ; 
 
 Out on Man for a tearful feeble pitiful race 
 That is dragged underground at last, and 
 
 moulders away apace.
 
 PRESENTS 
 
 AFTER VILLIERS DE L'ISLE ADAM 
 
 If you should ask, some even-time, 
 The secret of my soul's distress, 
 
 I'll speak to you an ancient rhyme 
 To touch your loneliness. 
 
 If you should tell of griefs you bore, 
 Of hopes that never smiled on you, 
 
 I'll go and pluck you nothing more 
 Than roses, brimmed with dew. 
 
 If, like the blossom of the dead 
 Apart amid the tombs it loves, 
 
 You long to share the tears I shed, 
 Then I will give you doves. 
 26
 
 AFTER PAUL VERLAINE 
 (LA BONNE CHANSON, XX.) 
 
 In dolorous uncertainty 
 
 I wandered by the treacherous way ; 
 Thy hands, Beloved, guided me. 
 
 So faint, so pale, so far away 
 
 The feeble hope of morning shone ; 
 You looked at me, and it was day. 
 
 Save for his echoing steps alone 
 
 No sound the traveller's heart might cheer ; 
 It was your voice said, " Follow on." 
 
 My heart, in darkness and in fear, 
 Wept on its way for lone distress ; 
 
 But Love, our delicate conqueror, dear, 
 Has made us one in happiness. 
 27
 
 APPARITION 
 
 AFTER STEPHANE MALLARME 
 
 The moon grew very sad ; 
 
 the weeping seraphim 
 Dreamed, with their bows in hand, 
 
 amid the calm of dim 
 Vaporous blossoms, and 
 
 from dying viols drew 
 Pale sobs, that floated o'er 
 
 the flowers crowned with blue. 
 It was that hallowed day 
 
 you first bestowed your kiss ; 
 My dreaming mind, desirous 
 
 to torment my bliss, 
 Drank, in her wisdom, deeply 
 
 of Grief's sweet perfume 
 That leaves, without regret 
 
 and without after-gloom, 
 28
 
 Unto the heart that plucks 
 
 a Vision's harvesting. 
 Eyes bent on age-worn pavement 
 
 I was wandering, 
 When in the evening time, 
 
 with sunlight in your hair, 
 You in my path appeared 
 
 to me, stood smiling there . . . 
 I thought I saw the fairy 
 
 with the Cap o' Light 
 Who once, in my spoilt childhood, 
 
 through sweet dreams of night 
 Passed, ever 'twixt her fingers' 
 
 loosely fastened bars, 
 Scattering snowy clusters 
 
 of white perfumed stars. 
 
 29
 
 LEAVES IN THE ROAD 
 
 Last year, when we were glad together, 
 
 We wondered, you and I, 
 At the leaves drifting in the road 
 
 And the clouds in the sky ; 
 
 Now, in the same gray autumn weather, 
 
 We are so far apart, 
 And the leaves drifting in the road 
 
 Put the grief in my heart.
 
 Chiswick Press : Charles Whittingham and Co. 
 Tooks Court, Chancery Lane, London.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed.
 
 A 001 1 16 952 1
 
 Universit; 
 
 Southe 
 
 Libra