Edward Shanks

    The moon's a drowsy fool to-night,
    Wrapped in fleecy clouds and white;
    And all the while Endymion
    Sleeps on Latmos top alone.

    Not a single star is seen:
    They are gathered round their queen,
    Keeping vigil by her bed,
    Patient and unwearièd.

    Now the poet drops his pen
    And moves about like other men:
    Tom o' Bedlam now is still
    And sleeps beneath the hawthorn'd hill.

    Only the Latmian shepherd deems
    Something missing from his dreams
    And tosses as he sleeps alone.
    Alas, alas, Endymion!

    August is gone and now this is September,
        Softer the sun in a cloudier sky;
    Yellow the leaves grow and apples grow golden,
        Blackberries ripen and hedges undress.
    Watch and you'll see the departure of summer,
        Here is the end, this the last month of all:
    Pause and look back and remember its promise,
        All that looked open and easy in May.

    Nothing will stay them, the seasons go onward,
        Lightly the bright months fly out of my hand,
    Softly the leading note calls a new octave;
        Autumn is coming and what have I done?
    Even as summer my young days go over,
        No day to pause on and nowhere to rest:
    Slowly they go but implacably onwards,
        Ah! and my dreams, alas, still they are dre...

    Because the days are long for you and me,
        I make this song to lighten their slow time,
    So that the weary waiting fruitful be
        Or blossomed only by my limping rhyme.
                The days are very long
        And may not shortened be by any chime
        Of measured words or any fleeting song.
    Yet let us gather blossoms while we wait
    And sing brave tunes against the face of fate.

    Day after day goes by: the exquisite
        Procession of the variable year,
    Summer, a sheaf with flowers bound up in it,
        And autumn, tender till the frosts appear
                And dry the humid skies;
        And winter following on, aloof, austere,
        Clad in the garments of a frore sunrise;
    And spring again.    Ma...

    I'll love you in the open air
        But stuffy rooms and blazing fires
    And mirrors with familiar stare
        Cloak and befoul my high desires.

    The dearest day that I have known
        Was in the fields, when driving rain
    Was like a veil around us thrown,
        A grey close veil without a stain.

    The young oak-tree was stripped and bare
        But naked twigs a shelter made,
    Where curious cows came round to stare
        And stood astonished and dismayed.

    Let it be rain or summer sun,
        Smell of wet earth or scent of flowers,
    Love, once more give me, give me one
        Of these enchanted lover's hours.

    Now spring comes round again
    With blossom on the tree,
    Dark blossom of the peach,
    Light blossom of the pear
    And amorous birds complain
    And nesting birds prepare
    And love's keen fingers reach
    After the heart of me.

    But now the blackthorn blows
    About the dusty lane
    And new buds peep and peer,
    I have no joy at all,
    For love draws near its close
    And love's white blossoms fall
    And in the springing year
    Love's fingers bring me pain.

    My heart is like a meadow,
    Where clouds go over,
    Dappling the mingled grass and clover
    With mingled sun and shadow,
    With light that will not stay
    And shade that sails away.

    Your heart is like an orchard,
    That has the sun for ever in its leaves,
    Where, on the grass beneath the trees,
    There falls the shadow of the fruit
    That ripen there for me.

    Hawthorn above, as pale as frost,
    Against the paling sky is lost:
    On the pool's dark sheet below,
    The candid water-daisies glow.

    As I came up and saw from far
    The water littered, star on star,
    I thought the may had left its hedge
    To float upon the pool's dark edge.

    As a hot traveller
    Going through stones and sands,
    Who sees clear water stir
    Amid the weary lands,
    Takes in his hollowed hands
    The clean and lively water,
    That trickles down his throat
    Like laughter, like laughter,

    So when you come to me
    Across these parchèd places
    And all the waste I see
    Flowered with your graces,
    I take between my hands
    Your face like a rare cup,
    Where kisses mix with laughter,
    And drink and drink them up
    Like water, like water.

    The world's great ways unclose
    Through little wooded hills:
        An air that stirs and stills,
    Dies sighing where it rose
    Or flies to sigh again
        In elms, whose stately rows
    Receive the summer rain,
    And clouds, clouds, clouds go by,
    A drifting cavalry,
    In squadrons that disperse
        And troops that reassemble
    And now they pass and now
    Their glittering wealth disburse
        On tufted grass a-tremble
    And lately leafing bough.

    Thus through the shining day
    We'll love or pass away
    Light hours in golden sleep,
        With clos'd half-sentient eyes
    And lids the light comes through,
    As sheep and flowers do
        Who no new toils devise,
    While shin...

    My mother told me this for true
        That there behind the mountains,
    That wear the mists about their feet
        And clouds about their summits,
    There grows the weed Forgetfulness,
        It grows there in the gullies.

    If I but knew the way thereto,
        Three days long would I wander
    And pick a handful of the weed
        And drink it steeped in honey,
    That so I might forget your mouth
        A thousand times that kissed me.

    To A. G.

    The moon poured down on tree and field,
        The leaf was silvered on the hedge,
    The sleeping kine were half revealed,
        Half shadowed at the pasture's edge.

    By steep inclines and long descents,
        Amid the inattentive trees,
    You spoke of the four elements,
        The four eternal mysteries.

    Who thinks that he possesses
    His mistress with his kisses
        Knows neither love nor her.
    Nor beauty is not his
    Who seeks it in a kiss:
    If you would seek for this
        O seek it otherwhere!

    Love is a flame, a spirit
    Beyond all earthly merit
        And all we dream of here;
    Strive as you may but still
    Love is intangible,
    No servant to your will
        But sovereign otherwhere.

    The    time shall be, old Wisdom says, when you
        Shall grow awrinkled and I, indifferent,
    Shall no more follow the light steps I knew
        Or trace you, finding out the way you went,
    By swinging branches and the displaced flowers
        Among the thickets.    I no more shall stand,
    With careful pencil through the adoring hours
        Scratching your grace on paper.    My still hand
    No more shall tremble at the touch of yours
        And I'll write no more songs and you'll not sing.
    But this is all a lie, for love endures
        And we shall closer kiss, remembering
    How budding trees turned barren in the sun
    Through this long week, whereof one day's now done.

    The time is all so short. One week is much
        To be without your deep and peaceful eyes,
    Your soft and all-contenting cheek, the touch
        Of well-caressing hands.    O were we wise
    We would not love too strongly, would not bind
        Life into life so inextricably,
    That the dumb body suffers with the mind
        In a sad partnership this agony.
    For death will come and swallow up us two,
        You there, I here, and we shall lie apart,
    Out of the houses and the woods we knew.
        Then in the lonely grave, my dust-choked heart
    Out of the dust will raise, if it can speak,
    A threnody for this lost, lovely week.

    Is there no prophylactic against love?
        Can I with drugs not dull the ache one night?
    The rain is heavy and the low clouds move
        Over the empty home of our delight
    And find me in it weeping.    You are far
        And you are now asleep.    The night's so thick,
    Not even one stooping and compassionate star
        Shines on us both disparted.    O be quick,
    Torturing days and heavy, turn your hours
        To minutes, melt yourselves into one day!
    ... The cold rain falls in swift assailing showers,
        Darkness is round me and light far away.
    I'm in our well-known room and you're shut in
    By strange unfriendly walls I've never seen.

    Lovers that drug themselves for ecstasy
        Seek love too closely in an overdose,
    When the sweet spasm turns to agony
        And the quick limbs are still and the eyes close.
    I too, a fool, desired, to make love strong,
        Absence and parting but the measure's brimmed,
    The dose is over-poured, the time's too long
        Already, though two nights have hardly dimmed
    My lonely eyes with the elusive sleep.
        O I'll remember, I'll not wish again
    To go with ardent limbs into this deep
        Sea of dejection, this dull mere of pain:
    We'll love our safer loves upon the shore
    And quest for inexperienced joys no more.

    Through the closed curtains comes the early sun,
        First a pale finger, preluding the hand.
    Outside more certainly the day's begun,
        Where bright and brighter still the chestnuts stand,
    Broad candles lighting up at the first fire.
        I stir and turn in my uneasy sleep
    But in my sorrow sleep's my whole desire.
        About the still room small lights move and creep
    Silently, stealthily on wall and chair,
        Till to strong rays and shining lights they grow,
    Which with their magic change the waiting air
        And all its sleeping motes to gold and throw
    A golden radiance on your empty bed,
    Which wakes me with vain likeness to your head.

    To-morrow I shall see you come again
        Between the pale trees, through the sullen gate,
    Out of the dark and secret house of pain
        Where lie the unhappy and unfortunate.
    To-morrow you will live with me and love me,
        Spring will go on again, I'll see the flowers
    And little things, ridiculous things, shall move me
        To smiles or tears or verse.    The world is ours
    To-morrow.    Open heaths, tall trees, great skies,
        With massive clouds that fly and come again,
    Sweet fields, delicious rivers and the rise
        And fall of swelling land from the swift train
    We'll see together, knowing that all this
    Is one great room wherein we two may kiss.