Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN PEMBROKESHIRE, 1886, by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

IN PEMBROKESHIRE, 1886, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Through crested grass I took my way
Last Line: The perfume of the dreaming rose.
Subject(s): Pembrokeshire, Wales


THROUGH crested grass I took my way
From my loved home. The sun was high;
The warm air slept the live-long day;
No shadowy cloudlet veiled the sky.

The swift train swept with rhythmic tune,
By endless pastures hurrying down,
White farm, lone chapel, castled town,
Then, fringed with weed, the salt lagune,

At last the land-locked haven blue,
Thin-sown with monstrous works of war,
And on the sweet salt air I knew
Faint sounds of cheering from afar.

* * * *

Strong arms and backs are bent, and then
They draw us up the fluttering street;
Behind, there comes the ordered beat
Of long-drawn files of marching men.

At last a halt; a steep hillside
Set thick with toil-worn workers strong,
Grave faces stretching far and wide,
Fired with the hope to banish wrong.

Ah me! how thin one voice appears,
To reach so many eager minds!
Nay, for it speaks to willing ears,
And what the hearer seeks he finds.

Unhappy Island of the West!
Thy brethren these in race and blood,
Not like thee tempted or opprest,
But filled with longing for thy good.

For just is manhood rude and strong
And generous the toiler's soul;
When these the ship of State control,
Oppression shall not flourish long.

* * * *

The crowds are gone, the hillside bare,
The last good-nights at length are said,
The harbour crossed again, the fair
Large star of eve hangs overhead.

The shades of tardy evening fall;
Lights come in casements here and there;
Through dewy meads on the cool air
The wandering landrails hoarsely call.

The silent roads loom ghostly white;
No veil of darkness hides the skies;
A sunless dawn appears to rise
Upon the stilly charmed night.

The day's hot concourse comes to seem
Far, far away; the eager crowd,
The upturned gaze, the plaudits loud,
In the cool silence like a dream.

And oh, sweet odours, which the air
Of the calm summer midnight deep
Draws from the rose which lies asleep,
And bowery honeysuckles fair.

Oh, perfumed night! Some tremulous bird
From the thick hedgerows seems to thrill.
No other sound but this is heard,
Save ringing horsehoofs, beating still.

Midnight is past; there comes a gleam,
Precursor of the scarce-set sun.
Through gray streets hushed as in a dream
We sweep, and the long day is done.

* * * *

Men pass, but still shall Nature keep
Her night's cool calm, her dawn's bright glow;
Unseen her fragrant wild flowers creep,
Unmarked her midnight odours blow.

The long injustices of years
Shall pass; the hapless Western Isle
Shall dry the age-long trace of tears,
And show instead a happy smile.

The wheels of Fate are swiftly borne
From point to point, from change to change;
What yesterday was new and strange,
To-morrow scouts as old and worn.

I may forget the shouting crowd,
The sea of eyes which upward turn,
The kindling cheeks, the plaudits loud,
The sympathies which glow and burn.

Ay, all things change, but hardly those
Shall fade -- the midnight calm of June,
The cool sweet airs, the night-bird's tune,
The perfume of the dreaming rose.





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