Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A SEQUENCE, by FORD MADOX FORD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A SEQUENCE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: You make me think of lavender
Last Line: Ah, heart's desire, once more by the old fire stretch out thy hands.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hueffer, Ford Hermann; Hueffer, Ford Madox
Subject(s): Admiration; Farewell; Love; Parting


I

YOU make me think of lavender,
And that is why I love you so:
Your sloping shoulders, heavy hair,
And long swan's neck like snow,
Befit those gracious girls of long ago,
Who in closed gardens took the quiet air;
Who lived the ordered life gently to pass
From earth as from rose petals perfumes go,
Or shadows from that dial in the grass;
Whose fingers from the painted spinet keys
Drew small heart-clutching melodies.

II

I DO not ask so much,
—O, bright-hued; oh, tender-eyed—
As you should sometimes shimmer at my side,
Oh, Fair.

I do not crave a touch,
Nor, at your comings hither,
Sound of soft laughter, savour of your hair,
Sight of your face; oh fair, oh full of grace,
I ask not, I.

But that you do not die,
Nor fade, oh bright, nor wither,
That somewhere in the world your sweet, dim face
Be unattainable, unpaled by fears,
Unvisited by years,
Stained by no tears.

III

COME in the delicate stillness of dawn,
Your eyelids heavy with sleep;
When the faint moon slips to its line—dim-drawn,
Grey and a shadow, the sea. And deep, very deep,
The tremulous stillness ere day in the dawn.

Come, scarce stirring the dew on the lawn,
Your face still shadowed by dreams;
When the world's all shadow, and rabbit and fawn—
Those timorous creatures of shadows and gleams;
And twilight and dewlight, still people the lawn.

Come, more real than life is real,
Your form half seen in the dawn;
A warmth half felt, like the rays that steal
Hardly revealed from the East; oh warmth of my breast,
O life of my heart, oh intimate solace of me...
So, when the landward breeze winds up from the quickening sea,
And the leaves quiver of a sudden and life is here and the day,
You shall fade away and pass
As—when we breathed upon your mirror's glass—
Our faces died away.

IV

IF we could have remembrance now
And see, as in the winter's snow
We shall, what's golden in these hours,
The flitting, swift, intangible desires of sea and strand!

Who sees what's golden where we stand?
The sky's too bright, the sapphire sea too green;
I, I am fevered, you cold-sweet, serene,
And...and...

Yet looking back in days of snow
Unto this olden day that's now,
We'll see all golden in these hours
This memory of ours.

V

IT was the Autumn season of the year
When ev'ry little bird doth ask his mate:
"I wonder if the Spring will find us here,
It groweth late."

I saw two Lovers walking through the grass,
And the sad He unto his weeping Dear
Did say. "Alas!
When Spring comes round I shall no more be here,
For I must sail across the weary sea
And leave the waves a-churn 'twixt you and me.

"Oh, blessed Autumn! blest late Autumn-tide!
For ever with thy mists us Lovers hide.
Ignore Time's laws
And leave thy scarlet haws
For ever on the dewy-dripping shaws
Of this hillside.
Until the last, despite of Time and Tide,
Give leave that we may wander in thy mist,
With the last, dread
Word left for aye unsaid
And the last kiss unkisst."

It was the Autumn season of the year,
When ev'ry little bird doth ask his mate:
"I wonder if the Spring will find us here,
It groweth late."

VI

WHEN all the little hills are hid in snow,
And all the small brown birds by frost are slain,
And sad and slow the silly sheep do go
All seeking shelter to and fro;
Come once again
To these familiar, silent, misty lands;
Unlatch the lockless door
And cross the drifted floor;
Ignite the waiting, ever-willing brands,
And warm thy frozen hands
By the old flame once more.
Ah, heart's desire, once more by the old fire stretch out thy hands.





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