Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CRIMSON BOX, by ROGER HEATH


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CRIMSON BOX, by                    
First Line: I looked and saw the sun go down upon the western sea
Last Line: This was the crimson sun that sunk, and he shall rise again.
Subject(s): Oxford University


I LOOKED and saw the sun go down upon the western sea:
A crimson shield was he,
Hanging in a great abyss and falling endlessly.

For glassy smooth the water was and faded far away
Into a mist of grey,
And none could tell for certain where the horizon lay.

The formless mists came drifting up and all about the sun
A magic web was spun,
That turned him to a ship of fire before the day was done:

The fiery vessel waned and paled across the ocean wide,
And straightway we descried
A crimson box that drifted past upon a silver tide:

Perhaps an ancient mystery that wizards sent to roam
Long ages on the foam,
Till the appointed hour should come for men to bring it home.

It has eluded us till now and gone away to sea,
Yet some day, it may be,
On some lone beach the crimson box shall come ashore, and we

Shall race along the hard brown sand in eagerness and doubt,
And gather round about,
To read the message of the seas and let the secret out.

And it may be a single word to melt the earth to tears,
To drown our griefs and fears,
To usher in the golden age, the great and splendid years.

It may be full of singing birds to fill the world with wings,
To still our murmurings,
To charm the earth with sleepy songs of long-forgotten things:

And all that hear shall stand spell-bound upon the world's highways
And listen in amaze
To the birds of Rhiannon that turn the years to days.

Or else a hero's child is there, and some day he shall leap
In splendour from the deep:
But meanwhile in a crimson box he wanders fast asleep.

He floats upon the ocean like the son of Danae,
And he shall set us free
From Gorgons that trouble us with power and wizardry.

Or Love the deliverer himself is sleeping there
In the evening air
With grey wings folded about his glistening hair:

He slumbers on the open sea armed and garlanded,
With robes of crimson-red,
With armour of silver and flowers about his head.

Surely he shall come ashore; but for a while he lies
Underneath the skies,
Waiting till the time is ripe with half-awakened eyes.

Or it is nothing but a book locked in a crimson chest,
With stories of the quest
Of Brandan and Mailduin and wanderers of the West:

But full of noble singing for all the latter time,
That we who grope and climb
May bear our burdens easier for thinking on a rhyme.

O crimson box, come in to us! come in to us! -- for we
Have set our hope on thee;
The headlands and the long pale cliffs look out expectantly.

But the crimson flame is fading: the great grey seas have wound
Their meshes all around
The light that fired us with new hope: the crimson box is drowned.

It goes to take its secret to some long-sunken land,
To palaces that stand
In tangled forests of sea-weed and hills of shifting sand:

To the lost towns that brood upon the wars and journeyings
Of old heroic kings,
Whose streets are filled with drifting ooze and nests of deep-sea things.

Atlantis and Tir-fa-thuinn the cities of the deep, --
They will not fail to keep
The secret of the crimson box that broke upon their sleep.

Surely it will not find its way up from the ocean floor
To any human shore?
And yet, O watchers of the deep, take heart! take heart once more!

For though the light you waited for is sunken in the main;
Your hopes were not in vain --
This was the crimson sun that sunk, and he shall rise again.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net