Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE RETURN OF JEANNE D'ARC, by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE RETURN OF JEANNE D'ARC, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Why do the vales of paradise
Last Line: It is her voice! Jeanne d'arc! Jeanne d'arc!
Variant Title(s): The Return Of Joan D'arc
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Memory; Paris, France; Patriotism; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens


JEANNE D'ARC

Why do the vales of Paradise
Turn very France before my eyes,
With linkèd rivers, chain on chain,
Cool Meuse and amber-sandaled Aisne,
Angelic Oise serenely fleet,
And wayward Rhône on wingèd feet?
There gleams the Loire through lace of trees,
Shod as of old with silences.
And there with Paris at its breast,
The white Seine lies along the west,
How wistful!
Nay, my serious Seine,
Will nothing make the smile again?
Has any gargoyle peering down
From Notre Dame with hostile frown
Invaded thy still dreams at night?
Dost thou lament the lost delight
Of years long gone?
I wonder why
Proud Paris veils her from the sky
In twilight vesture like a nun?
I wonder, what has heaven done?
The lights are dead, the land is grey,
Like ghosts the pale roads drift away
Into the North! Oh, I would see
What years have wrought in Domremy,
And how great Rheims above the town
Lifts praying hands! I must go down
Among my people, I must know
What makes my heart remember so,
And why the voices cry so near,
The human voices that I hear!

THE MEN OF FRANCE

Now Mary lend thee out of heaven
For dear defence of rivers seven,
And shattered gateways of the North!
Angel of France, oh, lead us forth!

JEANNE D'ARC

They are invaded! They have need
Of my heart's faith! Yea, I will lead,
But can they follow when I go
Unseen and vague as winds that blow?
Yet shepherd winds control the day,
To make the poplars lean one way,
To ruffle rivers into gold,
Herd home the clouds into far fold,
And tirelessly evoke the shy
Wild iris latent in the sky!
Can my wing'd spirit so persuade
Their hearts to follow unafraid?

THE MEN OF FRANCE

Now Michael gird thee with his sword,
To thrust aside the alien horde,
To bend and break and hurl them forth!
Come thou and lead us to the North!

JEANNE D'ARC

Soldiers, my great grey horse long gone
To graze the meadows of the dawn,
Has thriven on clear asphodel,
Till you shall learn, he travels well,
And victory is still his stride.
You see me not, but oh, I ride
For France, and mark her starry goal,
The faith and freedom of the soul!
Do you but follow and give ear
To heavenly voices that I hear,
Till past the black besieging din
And whistling menace shrill and thin,
Emerge some silvery interval
Of vanished bells that call and call.
Forsaken save of sun and stars,
With portals blurred by brutal scars,
With towers torn and windows gone,
'Tis mighty Rheims that cries you on!
Though heaven and earth be withering,
Her ruined hells shall sob and sing:
Though earth and heaven be blank and bare,
You shall behold her standing there
With wounded arms uplifted high
For men of France who fight and die!

THE MEN OF FRANCE

Now Heaven help thee understand
The peril come upon our land!
Now God forgive our little worth
And grant thee memory of earth!

JEANNE D'ARC

I do remember everything
I had forgotten: how the king
For all my pleading, still delayed,
But God's own angels gave me aid.
There was a Chinon nightingale
That sang all night, "You will not fail!"
And there were always saintly trees
And dim old flowery villages,
And rain-pricked pools like fretted shields,
And sunny hills, and mellow fields,
Oh, there was France! So now she lies
Appealing-sweet before my eyes,
Her wide flush rivers for delight
Her spires and poplars to invite
The eyes and thoughts toward Heaven!
Men,
I fight beside you once again,
As those brief centuries ago,
Each man of you a man I know!
In Paradise I have not seen
Faces more steadfast and serene.
Let them not tear the temple down
That holds the soul of Rouen town,
Nor crush the lilies Amiens wears,
Nor those fair vines along the stairs
Of Chartres, where some hand unknown
Lured leaf and fruit from silver stone.
This sunward hour of deepening dawn
Brings glory of your comrades gone,
And Rheims' lost bells are ringing!

THE MEN OF FRANCE

Hark!
It is her voice! Jeanne d'Arc! Jeanne d'Arc!





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