Lascelles Abercrombie

Lascelles Abercrombie, born on January 9, 1881, was an influential English poet and literary critic, part of the group known as the Dymock poets. Renowned for his dramatic verse and contribution to early 20th-century literature, he published several collections, including 'Interludes and Poems.' Abercrombie's work often explored themes of individual struggle and philosophical inquiry. He passed away on October 27, 1938, leaving behind a legacy that continues to be studied in English literature.

January 9, 1881

October 27, 1938

English

All Last Night

All last night I had quiet
        In a fragrant dream and warm:
She became my Sabbath,
        And round my neck, her arm.

I knew the warmth in my dreaming;
        The fragrance, I suppose,
Was her hair about me,
        Or else she wore a rose.

Her hair I think; for likest
        Woodruffe 'twas, when Spring
Loitering down the wet woodways
        Treads it sauntering.

No light, nor any speaking;
        Fragrant only and warm.
Enough to know my lodging,
        The white Sabbath of her arm.

Lascelles Abercrombie

Epilogue to Emblems of Love

What shall we do for Love these days?
How shall we make an altar-blaze
To smite the horny eyes of men
With the renown of our Heaven,
And to the unbelievers prove
Our service to our dear god, Love?
What torches shall we lift above
The crowd that pushes through the mire,
To amaze the dark heads with strange fire?
I should think I were much to blame,
If never I held some fragrant flame
Above the noises of the world,
And openly 'mid men's hurrying stares,
Worshipt before the sacred fears
That are like flashing curtains furl'd
Across the presence of our lord Love.
Nay, would that I could fill the gaze
Of the whole earth with some great praise
Made in a marvel for men's eyes,
Some tower of glittering masonries,
Therein such a spirit flourishing

Lascelles Abercrombie

Hope And Despair

Said God, "You sisters, ere ye go
Down among men, my work to do,
I will on each a badge bestow:
Hope I love best, and gold for her,
Yet a silver glory for Despair,
For she is my angel too."

Then like a queen, Despair
Put on the stars to wear.
But Hope took ears of corn, and round
Her temples in a wreath them bound.
Which think ye lookt the more fair?

Lascelles Abercrombie

Hymn To Love

We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee,
As thóu, Lóve, were the déep thóught
And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we,
            Thy fires of thought out-spoken:

But burn'd not through us thy imagining
Like fiérce móod in a sóng cáught,
We were as clamour'd words a fool may fling,
            Loose words, of meaning broken.

For what more like the brainless speech of a fool,
The lives travelling dark fears,
And as a boy throws pebbles in a pool
            Thrown down abysmal places?

Hazardous are the stars, yet is our birth
And our journeying time theirs;
As words of air, life makes of starry earth
            Sweet soul-delighted faces;

As voices are we in the worldly wind;
The great wind of the world's...

Lascelles Abercrombie

Marriage Song

I

Come up, dear chosen morning, come,
Blessing the air with light,
And bid the sky repent of being dark:
Let all the spaces round the world be white,
And give the earth her green again.
Into new hours of beautiful delight,
Out of the shadow where she has lain,
Bring the earth awake for glee,
Shining with dews as fresh and clear
As my beloved's voice upon the air.
For now, O morning chosen of all days, on thee
A wondrous duty lies:
There was an evening that did loveliness foretell;
Thence upon thee, O chosen morn, it fell
To fashion into perfect destiny
The radiant prophecy.
For in an evening of young moon, that went
Filling the moist air with a rosy fire,
I and my beloved knew our love;
And knew that thou, O morning, wouldst arise

Lascelles Abercrombie

Roses Can Wound

Roses can wound,
But not from having thorns they do most harm;
Often the night gives, starry-sheen or moon'd,
        Deep in the soul alarm.
And it hath been deep within my heart like fear,
        Girl, when you are near.

        The mist of sense,
Wherein the soul goes shielded, can divide,
And she must cringe and be ashamed, and wince,
        Not in appearance hide
Of rose or girl from the blazing mastery
        Of bared Eternity.

Lascelles Abercrombie

Ryton Firs

'The Dream'

    All round the knoll, on days of quietest air,
    Secrets are being told; and if the trees
    Speak out - let them make uproar loud as drums -
    'Tis secrets still, shouted instead of whisper'd.

        There must have been a warning given once:
    No tree, on pain of withering and sawfly,
    To reach the slimmest of his snaky toes
    Into this mounded sward and rumple it;
    All trees stand back: taboo is on this soil. -

        The trees have always scrupulously obeyed.
    The grass, that elsewhere grows as best it may
    Under the larches, countable long nesh blades,
    Here in clear sky pads the ground thick and close
    As wool upon a Southdown wether's back;
    And as in Southdown wool, your hand must sink
  ...

Lascelles Abercrombie

Witchcraft: New Style

The sun drew off at last his piercing fires.
Over the stale warm air, dull as a pond
And moveless in the grey quieted street,
Blue magic of a summer evening glowed.
The sky, that had been dazzling stone all day,
Hollowed in smooth hard brightness, now dissolved
To infinite soft depth, and smoulder'd down
Low as the roofs, dark burning blue, and soared
Clear to that winking drop of liquid silver,
The first exquisite star. Now the half-light
Tidied away the dusty litter parching
Among the cobbles, veiled in the colour of distance
Shabby slates and brickwork mouldering, turn'd
The hunchback houses into patient things
Resting; and golden windows now began.

A little brisk grey slattern of a woman,
Pattering along in her loose-heel'd clogs,
Pushed the bra...

Lascelles Abercrombie