Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NIGHT POEMS: 2, by CHARLES WILLIAMS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NIGHT POEMS: 2, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Again in a still peace, in clear
Last Line: Endured by all, breathed by how few!
Subject(s): Death; Love - Loss Of; Peace; Poetry & Poets; Dead, The


Ille

AGAIN in a still peace, in clear
Contentment, our twined souls abide,
While all about us, far and near,
Entangled worlds of being slide.

Illa

If, dear my lord, on some dark day
Fate and the world our love destroy,
Shall we not think of this and say:
'What times were ours! and O what joy!'

Ille

How oft from these delicious springs
Of health that promise seems to fly
Before us, yet no darkness brings
Its trial and redemption nigh!

Illa

Clasp me more close! if time shall fret
Our cords of joy to breaking strands,
We may our plighted tongues forget
But not these kissed and clasping hands.

Ille

How marvellously did Love bless
My early prayers, but framed anew!
I begged from him forgetfulness;
He gave forgetfulness—in you.

Illa

Alas! what praise is this I hear?
Now am I worth no lovelier fame
From my best poet? then forbear,
I will not own so dull a name!

Ille

My fair Oblivion, be content!
Is it a small thing that your bright
And unperturbed arbitrament
Resolves my trouble out of sight?

Illa

Not such repose was promised me
In those blind moments when my blood,
Helpless as in the storm the sea,
First leapt to your near neighbourhood.

Ille

Stilled it not to a sunnier mirth
Thereafter? as in me, who feel
About the deadly wound of birth
Your hidden consolation steal.

Illa

Wounds though I suffer, let me move
Ever in jeopardy and strife,
Until, beneath the wrath of love
Broken, you nurse me back to life.

Ille

Since first one starry moment drew
Our too-long parted spirits nigh,
Time sinks at my arrest: in you
To all the world I seem to die.

Illa

But when on me arose that star
From its serene intensity
What ardour smote me! lo, the scar
Red on my heart possesses me.

Ille

Joy bring your utmost hope to pass!
But if that wild flight touch the sky,
Think that, in me reposed, it has
A double strength of speed thereby!

Illa

Nor are your wars, O true and dear,
Less glorious that they seem to be
Dim raids upon the far frontier
Of an entire tranquillity.

Ille

Thus you, asleep in me, shall vaunt
Your courage; I, asleep in you,
Shall satisfy that deeper want
Endured by all, breathed by how few!





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