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…distress Bend down the head that once was blithe and fair. Embattled toward the ancient armouress Age and despair! Where is the force of youth? The beauty where? What two-edged memory of some lost caress Lurks in the sorrowful pose and lingers there ? O melancholy mother! Sorceress, No more enchantress! What the harvest rare Sprung from the seed of youth and happiness? Age and despair. 20
L'AMOUR QUI PASSE OVE comes to flit, a spark of steel Struck on the flint of youth and wit; Ay, little maid, for woe or weal, Love comes to flit. Hermes one whisper thrills. Admit! Kupris one smile aims—do you feel? Eros one. arrow—has he hit? Why do you sit there immobile? A spark extinct is not relit. Beyond resource, above appeal, Love comes to flit. 25
…nd span With one great grip his cup, the Zodiac! Distil from all time’s art his wine, the truth! Drink, drink the mighty health—an age’s youth— Salut, Auguste Rodin! Here is a man. 11
LAGE D’AIRAIN RESH in the savage vigour of the time, The golden youth stands in the golden prime, Erect, acute, astrain. We look and long For those bronze lips to blossom into song. He is silent. We reflect. Ourselves grown old Yearn somewhat toward that sensuous glow of gold. All this is folly. Rodin made him so, Evoked the strength, the goodliness, the glow. The form is little: in the mind there dwells Force to avail the childish heart that swells With aught that is. The golden prime is past— Aye! but a nobler gain is ours at last Who see man…
LYETERNEL PRINTEMPS I HE eternal spring is in the heart of youth. They are nearest to the secret of the world, These lovers with their lithe white bodies curled Into the rhythm of a dance; the truth Is theirs that feel, not ours that idly see; Theirs that inhabit, and not ours that flee The intimate touch of love and think to sleuth By intellect all the scent of being, whirled In the wheel of time—roll back, slow years, and be A monument, a memory for me; That I may in their passion have a part, And feel their glory glow within my heart! II Thi…
RESURRECTION ROM youth and love to sorrow is one stride. So to the thinker; to the lover’s self __ Rather it glides or swoons; the idle elf That plucks a rose, scatters its petals wide, ' Is like the wind, is like the moon-wrought tide, Is most like life: so soft to man, so hard To the all-gathering brain of a great bard! Christ answered: Peace to man amid the strife! I am the Resurrection and the Life. Let the graves open: see the woman grip Her goodly love, her gainful fellowship! See the man, hungry, grasp the willing bride, Grope through th…