Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PASSING OF SUMMER (AN ODE), by ALFRED NOYES Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Now, like a pageant of the golden year Last Line: How earth's great golden dreams go past into the dark! Subject(s): Summer | ||||||||
NOW, like a pageant of the Golden Year, In rich memorial pomp the hours go by, With rose-embroidered flags unfurled And tasselled bugles calling through the world; 'Wake, for your hope draws near! Wake, for in each soft porch of azure sky, Seen through each arch of pale green leaves, the Gate Of Eden swings apart for Summer's royal state.' Ah, when the Spirit of the moving scene Has entered in, the splendour will be spent! The flutes will cease, the Gates will close! Only the scattered crimson of the rose, The wild-wood's hapless queen Dis-kingdomed, will declare the way he went; And, in a little while, her court will go, Pass like a cloud and leave no trace on earth below. Tell us no more of Autumn, the slow gold Of fruitage ripening in a world's decay, The falling leaves, the moist rich breath Of woodlands crumbling through a gorgeous death To glut the cancerous mould! Give us the flash and scent of keen-edged may Where wastes that bear no harvest yield their bloom, Rude crofts of flowering nettle, bents of yellow broom. The very reeds and sedges of the fen Open their hearts and blossom to the sky! The wild thyme on the mountain's knees Unrolls its purple market to the bees! Unharvested of men The Traveller's Joy can only smile and die! Joy, joy alone the throbbing white-throats bring, Joy to themselves and heaven; they were but born to sing. And see, between the northern-scented pines, The whole sweet summer sharpens to a glow! See, as the well-spring plashes cool Over a shadowy green fern-fretted pool The mystic sunbeam shines For one mad moment on a breast of snow, A warm white shoulder, and a glowing arm Up-flung, where some swift Undine sinks in shy alarm. And if she were not all a dream, and lent Life for a little to your own desire, Oh, lover in the hawthorn lane, Dream not you hold her, or you dream in vain! The violet, spray-besprent When from that plunge the rainbows flashed like fire, Will scarce more swiftly lose its happy dew Than eyes which Undine haunts will cease to shine on you. What though the throstle pours his heart away, A happy spendthrift of uncounted gold, Swinging upon the blossomed briar With soft throat lifted in a wild desire To make the world his may, Ever the pageant through the Gates is rolled Further away: in vain the rich notes throng Flooding the mellow noon with rapturous waves of song. The feathery meadows, like a lilac sea, Knee-deep, with honeyed clover red and white, Roll billowing; the crisp clouds pass, Trailing their soft blue shadows o'er the grass; The sky-lark, mad with glee, Quivers, up, up, to lose himself in light; And, through the forest, like a fairy dream Through some dark mind, the ferns in branching beauty stream. Enough of joy! A little respite lend, Summer, fair god that hast so little heed Of these that serve thee but to die, Mere trappings of thy tragic pageantry! Show us the end, the end! We too, with human hearts that break and bleed, March to the night that rounds their fleeting hour, And feel we, too, perchance but serve some loftier Power. Oh, that our hearts might pass away with thee, Burning and pierced and full of thy sweet pain; Burst through the Gates with thy swift soul, Hunt thy most white perfection to the goal, Nor wait, once more to see Thy chaliced lilies rotting in the rain, Thy ragged yellowing banners idly hung In woods that have forgotten all the songs we sung. Peace! Like a pageant of the Golden Year, In rich memorial pomp the noon sweeps by, With rose-embroidered flags unfurled And tasselled bugles calling through the world, 'Wake, for your hope draws near! Wake, for in each soft porch of azure sky, Seen through each arch of pale green leaves, the Gate Of Eden swings apart for Summer's royal state.' Not wait! Forgive, forgive that feeble cry Of blinded passion all unworthy thee! For here the spirit of man may claim A loftier vision and a nobler aim Than e'er was born to die: Man only, of earth, throned on Eternity, From his own sure abiding-place can mark How earth's great golden dreams go past into the dark! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ADVANCE OF SUMMER by MARY KINZIE THE SUMMER IMAGE by LEONIE ADAMS CANOEBIAL BLISS by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY THE END OF SUMMER by HENRY MEADE BLAND THE FARMER'S BOY: SUMMER by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD SONNET: 14. APPROACH OF SUMMER by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES JULY IN WASHINGTON by ROBERT LOWELL ODE TO THE END OF SUMMER by PHYLLIS MCGINLEY MOUNTAIN LAUREL by ALFRED NOYES |
|