Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, YOUTH, by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE


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YOUTH, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: With splendour shod sweeps sirius through the night
Last Line: To buy unchallenged honour for his bones?
Alternate Author Name(s): Ramal, Walter; De La Mare, Walter


With splendour shod sweeps Sirius through the night,
But Youth yet brightlier runs his course than he.
Youth hath the raiment of his childhood doffed
At morning-prime by life's resounding sea,
And lonely in beauty stands confronting Heaven.
He strides lithe-limbed, magnificently armed;
His young head helmeted with high desire;
His heart a haven of braveries fleet and eager;
His eyes like heroes never to be subdued,
And all man's passionate history in his blood.
Youth is Adonis, panting for the chase,
Scorning all languor, blandishment, all ease,
Scorning to dally while the noon slips by,
While rings the horn, fleets golden and sweet the hour,
And bursts untamed Ambition through the glades.
Oh, in what wrath he sees still Evening pour
Her crystal vial from the darkening West!
Now is an end to day's bright prowess come;
The flaming sunbeams multitudinous
Fade, as they kindled, on the unfolded rose.
He loves not Night's pale solitary brows,
Nor silver Hesper in the shadowy steep,
But like a panther fretteth in his lair,
Turning to slumb'r as to his strength's disgrace;
To sigh in dream 'neath moonlight's arrowy showers,
Marv'ling what makes Apollo's lute so still.
But dawn ascends. The night-watch'd stars shall not
Cry from heav'n's battlements in vain of day.
Earth wakens, cold with flowers, and the mists,
Smitten of light, fly, fall in radiant dew.
Birds mounting to the dayspring pour their throats;
And in like music she beguileth him: --
'Thou babe, here is my breast! Thou foolish one,
Strip off dull sleep; thy mother -- here am I!'
And frowning up he leaps to her smooth arms,
As mounts the fledgling eagle tow'rd the sun. . .
How hasten his echoing feet when sweet tongues call,
And Love's unerring archery sings nigh!
Dim then with incense burns his heart of flame;
His thoughts are aisles where ever voices quire:
And silence is divine with folded wings.
He voyages at a hazard Arctic seas;
Scales, as for pastime, ice-encinctured Alps;
No torrent daunts him; no abyss appals;
Wind ne'er so faintly the far horn of danger,
Its echo tingles on a listening ear;
Whithersoever summon it he'll follow,
And vain were every bounty earth can squander
To salve the sorrow for a deed undared.
He pines to set desire beyond his scope,
And beauteous childhood wells into his soul
In covet of the fruits that droop and burn
Where rise th' unchanging terraces of death.
What worth renown when all that dawn conceived
Fades to a phantom in the chimes of night?
What worth the flattery of a myriad tongues
If mute be the proud umpire of his heart?
He'll strive him for an amaranthine crown
Outlasting laurel and the world's applause.
Earth but a shadow is of beauty cast
In trembling beams upon the stream of Time:
He'll set his heart no more on shadows now;
But brood in envy of those high summits Man
Hath left to sparkle in midmost heav'n alone;
Strive with smooth lead to plumb the unanswering deeps,
Where Wisdom heark'ns the music of her wells.
He'll walk in sure confederacy with truth.
Betwixt him and the Hills Celestial falls
Only a blinding avalanche of sun. . .
Flow'rs, birds, the river rushing in its strength,
The pine upon the mountains, the broad wind
Burdened with snowy coldness, the salt sea,
The shalms of morning -- Youth's wild heart holds all; --
All glory, all wonder, purity, beauty, grace,
All things conceived of man, except defeat.
So spurns he hope: his hope is certainty.
And faith -- while every act is faith transfigured,
How should through mournful shadows glance such eyes?
God walketh in His brightness on the hills,
And sitteth in the wonder of the bow,
And calleth o'er the waters of delight: --
What were all Time to prove all gratitude?
What life's brief dust to Heav'n's unfading rose?. . .
How fleet a foot then Youth's for long pursuit!
How high a courage to search wisdom out,
While he unwitting of't burns folly away!
Is aught too bold, too infinite, to dream
Fate's arm may guard for babes to spring from him,
Who flings his life down, drenched with rapture through,
To buy unchallenged honour for his bones?





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