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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

VALE by WILFRED ROWLAND CHILDE

First Line: IN BECKLEY FROM THE HIGH GREEN WOODS
Last Line: AS THOU HAST EVER BEEN TO ME!
Subject(s): OXFORD UNIVERSITY;
IN Beckley from the high green woods
The eye looks down on sheeted floods,
Blue visionary solitudes,
Where many a thick-leaved hillock broods
On lonely Otmoor starkly grand,
And shining leagues of silent land,
Which the horizon's endless line
Does in an azure mist confine.

From Beckley the hid paths go down
To many a blessed fairy town,
To many a hidden wandering way,
And the hushed flood of virgin Ray,
To Merton and to Ambrosden,
To Charlton, tower of fortunate men,
Lost in the gentian-coloured fen,
Whereof I am a citizen,
But shall not take youth there again.

(Rememberest thou, my soul, that noon
Watched by the still blue face of June,
The sacred water stealing slow,
The flowery dykes -- how sweet they flow! --
The starry lilies, golden and white,
The blossom of iris burning bright,
The dreaming distance infinite?)
From Beckley slowly wandering
Those roads meet many a pleasant thing, --
Wood Eaton veiled in towering trees,
Noke nodding lap't in drowsy leas,
Cloaked Waterperry, nurse of peace,
And Elsfield, whence the traveller sees,
Faint, royal-crowned, majestical,
A distant vision, dear and small,
Apparent in the leafy vale,
Proud as a king's town in a tale,
The city of our blessedness,
The towers that are her gloriousness,
The spires that are her splendid joy --
So seems she to the gazing boy.

Ah, now my joy is not the same --
In Charlton under sunset-flame,
When all the dim marsh-lands aspire
Toward the orange western fire,
And in the vaned tower the bell
Rings, and the hour is very well,
And the infinite plain is changed all
To a vast blue blossom magical,
And a few stars shine, and the spring-dews fall. --
In Beckley, when the flowers are out,
And in rich woods the cuckoos shout,
And scattered all around appear
The dancing babes of the jubilant year,
Green spurges, hyacinths, orchises,
A glory in the shade of the trees. --
Ah, now I cannot laugh and sing,
And drink the sweet earth triumphing:
For now I am a man and find
The world is not made after my mind,
As it is made after the mind of a boy --
Good-bye, my lovely sister joy!

Good-bye, good-bye, exalted hills,
Good-bye to that rare peace which fills
Young hearts rejoicing in lonely air.
O hills, I leave you something fair,
I leave you youth: may other boys
Come here with laughters, hopes and joys,
Fill the bare lands with happy noise,
Take here long rambling careless walks,
And tire their comrades with vast talks,
And drain the blue and dream the world,
And see great infinite hopes unfurled,
Drink beer and tea in lonely inns,
Dismiss the seven deadly sins,
Alter the universe at will.
(Geraniums on the window-sill,
In those wise taverns, O good-bye!)
May other folk be glad as I
For ever in those aery lands,
While great Saint Mary glorious stands,
And doth victoriously complete
The splendour of the only street.

Vale to the blessed hills, then,
And Vale to the azure fen:
Vale is my only truth.
Good-bye, my lovely sister youth,
As kind to others mayst thou be,
As thou hast ever been to me!



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