A Prelude and a Song

The Prelude

Song! glad indeed I am that we have met,
Too long, my sister, you have stayed from me;
Almost I fancied that you could forget
Those binding promises, that you would be
Under the slender interlacing boughs
Waiting for me.

I came and looked about on every side
But where you hid away I could not see;
And first I searched among the meadows wide,
And up the hill, and under every tree,
And down the stream to see if you were there
Waiting for me.

But when I did not find you in the mead,
Or by the stream, or under any tree,
I thought you had forgotten we agreed,
Not long ago, that you would surely be
Under the slender interlacing boughs
Waiting for me.

You came to me I do not know from where:
I stood and saw you not, I turn and see:
Have you sprung to me from the sunny air?
Or in the long grass did you curiously
Watch while I wandered, laughing as you lay
Waiting for me.

And you have brought your pipe! let us begin.
Against your skill I match my poetry:
A kiss if I should fail, and if I win
A kiss the same — tune not your melody
Too high at first, I shall not keep you long
Waiting for me.

O little wind that through the forest ways
At evening and at morning still does go,
Or from the hilltop with a lordlier praise
Shouts without ceasing to the meads below!
From cave or lake or wood
Come, little wind and share our solitude;
Leave those sad vagaries that make us weep,
Your long-blown pealing trumpet put away,
And where a merry holiday we keep
Here in the sunny fields come dance and leap
And sing aloud with us the live-long day.

For we have often seen you in the corn
Nodding the poppy heads in dainty play,
Or through the meadows on a summer morn
Blowing the little thistle balls away :
And one day, unobserved, we watched you where
You stole a ribbon from a maiden slim
And threw it to a boy who stood and prayed,
Which, e'er he kissed, you snatched away from him
And blew it back again unto the maid
Who was his only hope and thought and care;
And while he sighed and while she laughed you took
The ribbon up and soused it in a brook,
Beyond the reach of lover anywhere.

And yet again we saw
You playing with the milkmaids in the shaw,
Where standing near a satyr trained his eye
If haply there was anything to see
And crept up to you with a mind to spy
The cause of such exceeding jollity:
Then, when the satyr looked too curiously
You blew his own rough beard and shaggy hair,
And blinded him who stared so greedily,
Because it was not right that he should see
The milkmaid's kirtle that you meddled there.

So you can laugh and play;
Come then and join our merry holiday:
Join in our song and maybe you will win
Because you are so free from thought or care,
Nor ever question, does the sinner sin?
Or, who has seen? or, why or when or where?
No longer bide
By wood or hill or green or river's side,
But your quaint careless lute bring with you here
And sing to us and we will sing to you,
Until we find who has the finest ear,
And who the sweetest voice and gayest cheer,
And to him give the praise that is his due.

O nymphs ! if ye will come from spring or lake,
Or where the sedge is wavering in the stream,
To dance with us and with us to partake
A careless fellowship, or with us dream
Stretched idly on the grass to watch the gleam
Of sunlight through the leaves — we welcome true
And will applaud your shy romantic theme,
Your delicate wild tales and music new;
And fair respectful courtesy extend to you.

Round the trees ye danced and flew
While the boughs danced down to see,
And the sun was dancing through
Leafy spaces on the tree:
The daisies danced, the meadow-sweet,
All the swaying grassy blades
Danced behind the dancing feet
Of the merry dancing maids.

But ye goat-footed fellows keep away,
Nor through the bushes strain your wily eyes,
For ye would love to spoil our holiday,
And fright the nymphs away with sudden cries,
And whispers lewd and vicious enterprise:
But if ye promise truly to be good,
Then come with your thin reeds and improvise
Your antic dances practiced in the wood,
And all the games you play in sunlit solitude.

Left and right and swing around,
Soar and dip and fall for glee,
Happy sky and bird and ground,
Happy wind and happy tree:
Happy minions, dancing mad,
Joy is guide enough for you,
Cure the world of good and bad,
And teach us innocence anew.

In sunlit solitude wherein ye keep
A merriment we never understood,
Whose only privilege is when we weep —
Away the word ! but come ye happy brood
Of nymphs and dancing satyrs who have wooed
So often and so often, come and lie
Beside us on the grass, and be as good
As your wild natures let, while singing high
We send our joyful choruses up to the sky.

Good and bad and right and wrong,
Wave the silly words away:
This is wisdom to be strong,
This is virtue to be gay:
Let us sing and dance until
We shall know the final art,
How to banish good and ill
With the laughter of the heart.

Now sister, blow your pipe with curved lips,
And all ye others come and sit around
And hearken to my measure as it trips
Now high, now low, with a melodious sound :
My best I sing, and if it seem to you
That ye have heard my measures sung before
In old poetic days, give me my due,
For those who sang so well were very few
Tho' dead, and none alive can soar
Up to the simple rapture of my lays :
But be ye silent till my time is o'er,
Then if ye like my songs give me my praise.

The Song

I have a black, black mind!
What shall I do?
If I could fly and leave it all behind,
Scaling the blue,
Over the trees and up and out of sight,
And wrong and right
Naming them both the nonsense that they are!
I'd leave them far,
Drop them behind with these and these and these,
The tyrannies
That promised to be blessings and are woes,
The chattering crows
That I had fancied to be singing birds,
The angry words
That drowse and buzz and drone and never stay.
Oh ! far away !

Over the pine trees and the mountain top,
Never to stop;
Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly
Into the sky.

If I had wings just like a bird
I would not say a single word,
I'd spread my wings and fly away
Beyond the reach of yesterday.

If I could swim just like a fish
I'd give my little tail a swish,
I'd swim ten days and nights and then
I never would be found again.

Or if I were a comet bright
I'd drop in secret every night
Ten million miles, and no one would
Know where I kept my solitude.

But I am not a bird or fish
Or comet, so I need not wish,
And need not try to get away
Beyond the reach of yesterday.

Damn Yesterday! and this and that,
And these and those, and all the flat
Dull catalogue of weighty things
That somehow fastened to my wings.

Over the pine trees and the mountain top 1
I will not stop,
I lift my wings and fly and fly and fly
Into the sky.

No more of woeful Misery I sing!
Let her go moping down the paved way;
While to the sunny fields, and everything
That laughs, and to the little birds that sing,
I pass along and tune my happy lay :
O sunny sky !
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by !

I walk and play beside the little stream
As by a friend: I dance in solitude
Among the trees, or lie and gaze and dream
Along the grass, or hearken to the theme
A lark discourses to her tender brood:
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

There is a thrush lives snugly in a wall,
She lets me come and peep into her nest,
She lets me see and touch the speckled ball
Under her wing, and does not fear at all,
Although her shy companion is distressed:
O sunny sky !
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

Sing, sing again ye little birds of joy!
Call out from tree to tree and tell your tale
Of happiness that knoweth no alloy;
Altho' your mates seem timorous and coy
If ye sing high enough how can ye fail?
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by !

On every side, as far as I can see,
The round horizon — like a bosom's swell,
Seems brooding in a sweet maternity
Where no thing may be hurt, not even me,
But she will stoop and kiss and make us well:
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by !

I am the brother of each bird and tree
And everything that grows — your children glad;
Their hearts are in my heart, their ecstasy!
O Mother of all mothers, comfort me,
Give me your breast for I am very sad :
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

I wandered far away in early morn,
When summer did the happy trees adorn;
Leaving behind all woe and discontent,
All sorrow and distress and angry pain,
And did not say to any where I went,
Or when, or if I would return again
From leafy solitude.

I wandered far away and far away,
And was as happy as a person may,
Until I heard the birds all singing plain
Upon their several trees, a joyous band,
Who had no care save only to attain
The food and shelter that lay every hand
In leafy solitude.

I wandered far away and did not turn:
At their glad songs my heart began to burn,
And joy that I had never known before,
And tears that had no meaning I could say,
Came from the hymns the little birds did pour
To me as I went softly on my way
In leafy solitude.

I wandered far away and I was glad:
I knew the rapture that the forest had :
And every bird was good to me and said
A kindly word before I passed him by,
The cheery squirrel sat and ate his bread
And did not fear me when I ventured nigh
His leafy solitude.

I wandered far away — O, all alas!
How quickly does the little freedom pass!
Can I return again to domicile?
Or leave the birds each on his several tree?
Or wonder did I weep and did I smile?
Or recollect the songs they sang to me
In leafy solitude ?

O birds, my brothers, sing to me once more!
E'er I return again to whence I came,
Give me your happiness, your joy, your lore,
Your woodland innocence I claim
Because ye truly are my brothers dear:
Sing to me once again before I go from here.

In woodland paths again we may not meet;
Under the slender interlacing boughs,
Where all day long the sunbeams flash and fleet
On leaf and grass and wing,
And all day long ye sing
And hold carouse :
Because ye truly are my brothers dear
Sing to me once again before I go from here.

I from your happy company must go away
To whence I came;
But ye through all the quiet summer day
Will sing the same,
And fly and hold carouse
Under the slender interlacing boughs
When I am gone, who am your brother dear:
Sing to me once again before I go from here.

All things must cease at last;
Night cometh after day
And day is past:
All things must end
And friend from loving friend
At the long last must rise and go away;
And from the slender interlacing boughs
The leaves that flutter now will fail and fall;
The time is come I may no more carouse,
Farewell to ye, farewell unto ye all
Ye birds who truly are my brothers dear:
Sing to me once again before I go from here.

O clouds that sail afar, almost unseen!
O unattainable ! to you alone
I lift my wings,
To you I lean,
I yearn to you beyond all other things;
Desperate I am for you, for you I moan;
I struggle up to you and always fail,
I sink and fall, I fall for ever down,
Deep down where you are not, without avail
Or help or hope : a clod, a grinning clown
Whose wry mouth laughs in fury at his thought ;
A discontent without a word to say;
A hope that cannot fasten upon aught;
A nothing that is anything it may;
A moodiness, a hatred and a love

Mixed, mixed of good and bad that can not show;
But you are calm at morning as a dove
Is calm upon her nest, and in the glow
Of midday you are bathed round with joy,
And as a woman looking on the child
Within her arms asleep has no annoy
So, with contented brows and bosom mild,
You rest upon the evening and its gold,
Its tender rose and pearl and green and gray:
O peacefulness that never has been told !
O far away !
Over the pine trees and the mountain top,
Never to stop
Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly
Into the sky.

Weary indeed I know the whole world is;
Then do not sing to me a song of woe,
But tune your pipe to every merry bliss
Ye can remember, and I will not miss
To join in every chorus that I know:
Give me the very rapture of your song

Else I may go away with thoughts that do ye wrong
The joyful song that welcomes in the spring,
The tender mating song so bravely shy,
The song that builds the nest, the merry ring
When the long wait is ended and ye bring
The young birds out and teach them how to fly:
Sing to me of the beechnuts on the ground,
And of the first wild flight at early dawn,
And of the store of berries some one found
And hid away until ye gathered round
And ate them while he shrieked upon the lawn:
Sing of the swinging nest upon the tree,
And of your mates who call and hide away,
And of the sun that shines exceedingly,
And of the leaves that dance, and all the glee
And rapture that begins at break of day.

O birds, O birds, sing once again to me !
Sing me the joy ye have not reached to yet;
E'er I go hence give me your ecstasy,
E'er I go hence, e'er far away I flee
Give me the joy which I may not forget:
The very inner rapture of your song:
Else I may go away with thoughts that do ye wrong.

O follow, follow, follow!
Blackbird, thrush and swallow;
The air is soft, the sun is shining through
The dancing boughs;
A little while me company along
And I will go with you:
Arouse, arouse!
Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song.

Blackbird, thrush and swallow!
Indeed the visits that I pay are very few,
Then come to me as I have come to you :
O follow, follow, follow!
Leave for a little time your nested boughs
And me accompany along,
Join me while I am happy; rouse, O rouse!
Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song.

Sky, sky,
On high,
O gentle majesty!
Come all ye happy birds and follow, follow
Under the slender interlacing boughs
Blackbird, thrush and swallow!
No longer in the sunlight sit and drowse
But me accompany along;
No longer be ye mute; arouse, arouse!
Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song.

Lift, lift, ye happy birds,
Lift song and wing,
And sing and fly,
And fly again and sing
Up to the very blueness of the sky
Your happy words.
O follow, follow, follow,
Where I go racing through the shady ways,
Blackbird, thrush and swallow,
Shouting aloud our ecstasy of praise:
Under the slender interlacing boughs
Me company along,
The sun is coming with us : rouse, O rouse !
Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song.

Reach up my wings !
Now broaden into space and carry me
Beyond where any lark that sings
Can get:
Into the utmost sharp tenuity,
The breathing-point, the start, the scarcely-stirred
High slenderness where never any bird
Has winged to yet !
The moon peace and the star peace and the peace
Of chilly sunlight: to the void of space,
The emptiness, the giant curve, the great
Wide-stretching arms wherein the gods embrace
And stars are born and suns: where germinate
All fruitful seed, where life and death are one,
Where all things that are not their times await;
Where all things that have been again are gone:
Deep Womb of Promise! back to thee again

And forth, revivified, all living things
Do come and go,
Forever wax and wane into and from thy garden;
There the flower springs,
Therein does grow
The bud of hope, the miracle to come
For whose dear advent we are striving dumb
And joyless: Garden of Delight
That God has sowed!
In thee the flower of flowers,
The apple of our tree,
The banner of our towers,
The recompense for every misery,
The angel-man, the purity, the light
Whom we are working to has his abode :
Until out back and forth, our life and death
And life again, our going and return
Prepare the way: until our latest breath,
Deep-drawn and agonized, for him shall burn
A path: for him prepare

Laughter and love and singing everywhere ;
A morning and a sunrise and a day !
O, far away !
Over the pine trees and the mountain top
Never to stop
Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly
Into the sky.

Song! I am tired to death! here let me lie
Where we have paced the moving trees along,
Till I recover from my ecstasy:
Farewell my Song.

Once more unto your pipe I lend my rhyme
Who in the woods did pace with you along;
We have been happy for a little time:
Farewell my Song.

Soon, soon return or else my world is naught;
Come back and we will pace the woods along,
And tell unto each other all our thought:
Farewell my Song.

And when again you do come back to me
Under the sounding trees we'll pace along,
While to your pipe I raise my poetry:
Farewell my Song.

The Hill of Vision [1912]