Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MARGUERITE DE ROBERVAL, by ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY Poet's Biography First Line: O the long days and nights! The days that bring Last Line: With early flowers clustering here and there! Subject(s): Adventure And Adventurers; France; Love Affairs; Poetry & Poets; Sea Voyages | ||||||||
O, THE long days and nights! The days that bring No sunshine that my shrinking soul can bear, The nights that soothe not. All the airs of France. Soft and sun-steeped, that once were breath of life, Now stir no magic in me. I could weep Yet can I never weepto see the land That is my land no more! For where the soul Doth dwell and the heart linger there Alone can be the native land, and I have left Behind me one small spot of barren earth That is my hold on heav'n! You bid me tell My story? That were hard. I have no art And all my words have long been lost amid The greater silences. The birdsthey knew My grief, nor did I feel the need of speech To make my woe articulate to the wind! If my tale halts, know 'tis the want of words And not the want of truth. 'Twas long, you say Yes, yet at first it seemed not long. We watched The ships recede, nor vexed them with a prayer. Was not his arm about me? Did he not Stoop low to whisper in my tingling ear? The little Demon-island was our world, So all the world was oursno brighter sphere That swung into our ken in purple heaven Was half so fair a world! We were content. Was he not mine? And I (he whispered this) The only woman on love's continent! How can I tell my story? Would you care To hear of those first days? I cannot speak Of themthey lie asleep so soft within My heart a word would wake them. I'll not speak That word! There came at last a golden day When in my arms I held mine own first born, And my new world held three. And then I knew, Mid joy so great, a passion of despair! I knew our isle was barren, girt with foam And torn with awful storm. I knew the cold, The bitter, cruel cold! My tender babe, What love could keep him warm? Beside my couch Pale famine knelt with outstretched, greedy hand, To snatch my treasure from me. Ah, I knew, I knew what fear was then! We fought it back, That ghost of chill despair. He whom I loved Fought bravely, as a man must fight who sees His wife and child defenceless. But I knew E'en from the firstthe unequal strife would prove Too long, the fear too keen! It wore his strength, And in his eyes there grew the look of one Who grapples time, and will not let it go, Yet feels it slipping, slipping Ah, my dear! I saw you die, and could not help or save Knowing myself to be the awful care That weighed thee to thy grave! The world held two Nowone so frail and small, and one made strong By love and weak by fear. That little life! It trembled in my arms like some small flame Of candle in a stealthy draught that blows And blows againone never knows from whence, Yet feareth alwaystill at last, at last A darkness falls! So came the dark to me And it was night indeed! Beside my love I laid my lovely babe. And all fear fled; For where joy is there only can fear be. They fear not who have nothing left to fear! So! That is all my tale. I lived, I live And shall live on, no doubt. The changeful sky Is blue in France, and I am youngthink you I am still young! Though joy has come and passed And I am gazing after with dull eyes! One day there came a sail. It drew anear And found me on my island, all alone That island that had once held all the world They succored me and brought me back again To sunny France, and here I falter through This halting tale of mine. And now 'tis told I pray you speak to me of it no more! If I would sleep o' nights my ears must close To that sad sound of waves upon the beach, To that sad sound of wind that waileth so! To visions of the sun upon the sea And green grass-covered mounds, bleak, bleak, but still With early flowers clustering here and there! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN ABEYANCE by DENISE LEVERTOV LEAVING FOREVER by DENISE LEVERTOV SAILING HOME FROM RAPALLO by ROBERT LOWELL SHACKLETON by MADELINE DEFREES QE2. TRANSATLANTIC CROSSING. THIRD DAY. by RITA DOVE MANHATTAN, 1609 by EDWIN MARKHAM CROSSING THE ATLANTIC by ANNE SEXTON THE INDIA WHARF by SARA TEASDALE A CHRISTMAS CHILD by ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY |
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