sword blades & poppy seed-第3章
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I am no devil； is there one？
Surely the age of fear is gone。
We live within a daylight world
Lit by the sun； where winds unfurled
Sweep clouds to scatter pattering rain；
And then blow back the sun again。
I sell my fancies； or my swords；
To those who care far more for words；
Ideas； of which they are the sign；
Than any other life…design。
Who buy of me must simply pay
Their whole existence quite away：
Their strength； their manhood； and their prime；
Their hours from morning till the time
When evening comes on tiptoe feet；
And losing life； think it complete；
Must miss what other men count being；
To gain the gift of deeper seeing；
Must spurn all ease； all hindering love；
All which could hold or bind； must prove
The farthest boundaries of thought；
And shun no end which these have brought；
Then die in satisfaction； knowing
That what was sown was worth the sowing。
I claim for all the goods I sell
That they will serve their purpose well；
And though you perish； they will live。
Full measure for your pay I give。
To…day you worked； you thought； in vain。
What since has happened is the train
Your toiling brought。 I spoke to you
For my share of the bargain； due。〃
〃My life！ And is that all you crave
In pay？ What even childhood gave！
I have been dedicate from youth。
Before my God I speak the truth！〃
Fatigue； excitement of the past
Few hours broke me down at last。
All day I had forgot to eat；
My nerves betrayed me； lacking meat。
I bowed my head and felt the storm
Plough shattering through my prostrate form。
The tearless sobs tore at my heart。
My host withdrew himself apart；
Busied among his crockery；
He paid no farther heed to me。
Exhausted； spent； I huddled there；
Within the arms of the old carved chair。
A long half…hour dragged away；
And then I heard a kind voice say；
〃The day will soon be dawning； when
You must begin to work again。
Here are the things which you require。〃
By the fading light of the dying fire；
And by the guttering candle's flare；
I saw the old man standing there。
He handed me a packet； tied
With crimson tape； and sealed。 〃Inside
Are seeds of many differing flowers；
To occupy your utmost powers
Of storied vision； and these swords
Are the finest which my shop affords。
Go home and use them； do not spare
Yourself； let that be all your care。
Whatever you have means to buy
Be very sure I can supply。〃
He slowly walked to the window； flung
It open； and in the grey air rung
The sound of distant matin bells。
I took my parcels。 Then； as tells
An ancient mumbling monk his beads；
I tried to thank for his courteous deeds
My strange old friend。 〃Nay； do not talk；〃
He urged me； 〃you have a long walk
Before you。 Good…by and Good…day！〃
And gently sped upon my way
I stumbled out in the morning hush；
As down the empty street a flush
Ran level from the rising sun。
Another day was just begun。
Sword Blades
The Captured Goddess
Over the housetops；
Above the rotating chimney…pots；
I have seen a shiver of amethyst；
And blue and cinnamon have flickered
A moment；
At the far end of a dusty street。
Through sheeted rain
Has come a lustre of crimson；
And I have watched moonbeams
Hushed by a film of palest green。
It was her wings；
Goddess！
Who stepped over the clouds；
And laid her rainbow feathers
Aslant on the currents of the air。
I followed her for long；
With gazing eyes and stumbling feet。
I cared not where she led me；
My eyes were full of colours：
Saffrons； rubies； the yellows of beryls；
And the indigo…blue of quartz；
Flights of rose； layers of chrysoprase；
Points of orange； spirals of vermilion；
The spotted gold of tiger…lily petals；
The loud pink of bursting hydrangeas。
I followed；
And watched for the flashing of her wings。
In the city I found her；
The narrow…streeted city。
In the market…place I came upon her；
Bound and trembling。
Her fluted wings were fastened to her sides with cords；
She was naked and cold；
For that day the wind blew
Without sunshine。
Men chaffered for her；
They bargained in silver and gold；
In copper； in wheat；
And called their bids across the market…place。
The Goddess wept。
Hiding my face I fled；
And the grey wind hissed behind me；
Along the narrow streets。
The Precinct。 Rochester
The tall yellow hollyhocks stand；
Still and straight；
With their round blossoms spread open；
In the quiet sunshine。
And still is the old Roman wall；
Rough with jagged bits of flint；
And jutting stones；
Old and cragged；
Quite still in its antiquity。
The pear…trees press their branches against it；
And feeling it warm and kindly；
The little pears ripen to yellow and red。
They hang heavy； bursting with juice；
Against the wall。
So old； so still！
The sky is still。
The clouds make no sound
As they slide away
Beyond the Cathedral Tower；
To the river；
And the sea。
It is very quiet；
Very sunny。
The myrtle flowers stretch themselves in the sunshine；
But make no sound。
The roses push their little tendrils up；
And climb higher and higher。
In spots they have climbed over the wall。
But they are very still；
They do not seem to move。
And the old wall carries them
Without effort； and quietly
Ripens and shields the vines and blossoms。
A bird in a plane…tree
Sings a few notes；
Cadenced and perfect
They weave into the silence。
The Cathedral bell knocks；
One； two； three； and again；
And then again。
It is a quiet sound；
Calling to prayer；
Hardly scattering the stillness；
Only making it close in more densely。
The gardener picks ripe gooseberries
For the Dean's supper to…night。
It is very quiet；
Very regulated and mellow。
But the wall is old；
It has known many days。
It is a Roman wall；
Left…over and forgotten。
Beyond the Cathedral Close
Yelp and mutter the discontents of people not mellow；
Not well…regulated。
People who care more for bread than for beauty；
Who would break the tombs of saints；
And give the painted windows of churches
To their children for toys。
People who say：
〃They are dead； we live！
The world is for the living。〃
Fools！ It is always the dead who breed。
Crush the ripe fruit； and cast it aside；
Yet its seeds shall fructify；
And trees rise where your huts were standing。
But the little people are ignorant；
They chaffer； and swarm。
They gnaw like rats；
And the foundations of the Cathedral are honeycombed。
The Dean is in the Chapter House；
He is reading the architect's bill
For the completed restoration of the Cathedral。
He will have ripe gooseberries for supper；
And then he will walk up and down the path
By the wall；
And admire the snapdragons and dahlias；
Thinking how quiet and peaceful
The garden is。
The old wall will watch him；
Very quietly and patiently it will watch。
For the wall is old；
It is a Roman wall。
The Cyclists
Spread on the roadway；
With open…blown jackets；
Like black； soaring pinions；
They swoop down the hillside；
The Cyclists。
Seeming dark…plumaged
Birds； after carrion；
Careening and circling；
Over the dying
Of England。
She lies with her bosom
Beneath them； no longer
The Dominant Mother；
The Virile but rotting
Before time。
The smell of her； tainted；
Has bitten their nostrils。
Exultant they hover；
And shadow the sun with
Foreboding。
Sunshine through a Cobwebbed Window
What charm is yours； you faded old…world tapestries；
Of outworn； childish mysteries；
Vague pageants woven on a web of dream！
And we； pushing and fighting in the turbid stream
Of modern life； find solace in your tarnished broideries。
Old lichened halls； sun…shaded by huge cedar…trees；
The layered branches horizontal stretched； like Japanese
Dark…banded prints。 Carven cathedrals； on a sky
Of faintest colour； where the gothic spires fly
And sway like masts； against a shifting breeze。
Worm…eaten pages； clasped in old brown vellum； shrunk
From over…handling； by some anxious monk。
Or Virgin's Hours； bright with gold and graven
With flowers； and rare birds； and all the Saints of Heaven；
And Noah's ark stuck on Ararat； when all the world had sunk。
They soothe us like a song； heard in a garden； sung
By youthful minstrels； on the moonlight flung
In cadences and falls； to ease a queen；
Widowed and childless； cowering in a screen
Of myrtles； whose life hangs with all its threads unstrung。
A London Thoroughfare。 2 A。M。
They have watered the street；
It shines in the glare of lamps；
Cold； white lamps；
And lies
Like a slow…moving river；
Barred with silver and black。
Cabs go down it；
One；
And then another。
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet。
Tramps doze on the window…ledges；
Night…walkers pass along the sidewalks。
The city is squalid and sinister；
With the silver…barred street in the midst；
Slow…moving；
A river leading nowhere。
Opposite my window；
The moon cuts；
Clear and round；
Through the plum…coloured night。
She cannot light the city；
It is too bright。
It has white lamps；
And glitters coldly。
I stand in the window and watch the moon。
She is thin and lustreless；
But I love her。
I know the moon；
And this is an alien city。
Astigmatism
To Ezra Pound
With much friendship and admiration and some differences of opinion
The Poet took his walking…stick
Of fine and polished ebony。
Set in the close…grained wood
Were quaint devices；
Patterns in ambers；
And in the clouded green of jades。
The top was of smooth； yellow ivory；
And a tassel of tarnished gold
Hung by a faded cord from a hole
Pierced in the hard wood；
Circled with silver。
For years the Poet had wrought upon this cane。
His wealth had gone to enrich it；
His experiences to pattern it；
His labour to fashion and burnish it。
To him it was perfect；
A work of art and a weapon；
A delight and a defence。
The Poet took his walking…stick
And walked abroad。
Peace be with you； Brother。
The Poet came to a meadow。
Sifted through the grass were daisies；
Open…mouthed； wondering； they gazed at the sun。
The Poet struck them with his cane。
The little heads flew off； and they lay
Dying； open…mouthed and wondering；
On the hard ground。
〃They are useless。 They are not roses；〃 said the Poet。
Peace be with you； Brother。 Go your ways。
The Poet came to a stream。
Purple and blue flags waded in the water；
In among them hopped the speckled frogs；
The wind slid through them； rustling。
The Poet lifted his cane；
A
