Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CLOSING OF PARADISE, by NORMAN ROWLAND GALE


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CLOSING OF PARADISE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The gods who toss their bounties down / to willing laps
Last Line: Compared with her who died of late?
Subject(s): Heaven; Love; Memory; Paradise


THE Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps,
To some gave villas nested high
Among the foliage of the sky
Of Alp or soaring Apennine;
To some a Sabine farm; to some
The pillared porches of a home
With marble vaults for priceless wine,
And slaves, whose tributary line
Saluted Consuls late from Rome.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps,
To some sent all felicities
Of native statues, foreign frieze,
And gold to bribe the poet's lyre;
To some upon the inland sea
A pleasure-ship near Sicily,
Where harps and echoes long have rung,
And bards in busy vineyards sung
For maidens purple to the knee.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Gave me the joy of being free—
Gave me the gift of poverty!
No eagle, sinking from the sun
At eventime, discerns afar
The flashing of a golden star
On roof of mine, or slaves who press
With all the pomp of slavishness
To help me from my gilded car.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Gave me no treasure-house of pearls,
No bevy of slim dancing-girls,
But finer gifts outshining these—
A little wood whose paths are few,
Some trees made bright with fruit and dew;
And lastly, O my child so fair
With masses of resplendent hair,
They, gracious, dowered me with you!

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Exalted me beyond my kind
With all the mercies of a mind
That does not hungry gape for change.
The blackbird of a yesterday,
So it unlearns no liquid lay,
To-morrow can entice my feet
As pilgrims after piping sweet
Across the drying lines of hay.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps,
To her who left a stately house
To comfort me gave marvellous
Rare glimpses of pure maidenhood:
A benediction was her face,
Her heart a very tender place
Where love conceived the potent rule
To ache for others, merciful
Beyond the boundaries of race.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Instilled in her the simple taste
Of seeking in a country waste
For Nature's hidden handiwork:
She knew all secrets of the sedge,
The Lords-and-Ladies in the hedge,
What stripling blackbird first essayed
To fly from home, and half dismayed
Piped pitiful upon the edge.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
In uncontrolled abundancy,
Decreed that praise of bud and bee
Should be the duty of her lips.
The thunder of the world roared on,
Nor shook our stars that nightly won
The worship of our eager eyes
Sweeping the kingdom of the skies
Deserted by the westward sun.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Conspired to mould a million shapes—
Crocus and grasses, seas and capes—
To wake deep echoes in our hearts.
What rare divine imaginings
Conceived the ivy-spray that clings
To other miracles, the trees!
How magical those great decrees
That sent us roses, birds, and springs!

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Neither forget the violet's scent,
Nor planets in the firmament—
The outposts of a mystery!
They gave to man the undefiled
Bright rivulets and waters wild;
They wrought at noble gifts above,
And, for the pinnacle of love,
They fashioned him a little child.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Remembered, and a wailing cry
Smote at my heart so tenderly—
The master-miracle was ours!
He prospered in his tiny bed,
And when my angel bent her head,
Translating all his uncouth cries
By knowledge motherhood supplies,
My penitence arose and fled.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
All suddenly announced a hate
Of me, my wood, my simple gate,
The glory of my cherry-trees!
But when for grief I scarce could speak,
Love, coming closer, kissed my cheek,
And, with the genius of caress,
By pretty acts of tenderness
Made peace more near and earth less bleak.

The Gods who toss their bounties down
To willing laps
Thought as they bent from heaven to see,
This man is happier than we.
These grasping Gods were not ashamed
To steal from me my Love's caress
And her, the fount of happiness,
Rainbow and sunshine of my soul
Till all embittered nations roll
Where gods nor curse again nor bless.

Ah, silent melodies of joy,
So sadly dumb!
Ah, for the wilderness of life
With no oasis, lasting strife
With love's triumphant memory!—
The memory of her! Ye great,
Who mock me and my rustic gate,
I am the rich man of you all!
What are your turrets, broad and tall,
Compared with her who died of late?





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