Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PALM FLOWERS, by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PALM FLOWERS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: In a land of the sun's blessing
Last Line: But forget you quite till then.
Alternate Author Name(s): O'shaughnessy, Arthur W. E.
Subject(s): Flowers; Love; Man-woman Relationships; Male-female Relations


IN a land of the sun's blessing,
Where the passion-flower grows,
My heart keeps all worth possessing;
And the way there no man knows.

—Unknown wonder of new beauty!
There my Love lives all for me;
To love me is her whole duty,
Just as I would have it be.

All the perfumes and perfections
Of that clime have met with grace
In her body, and complexions
Of its flowers are on her face.

All soft tints of flowers most vernal,
Tints that make each other fade:
In her eyes they are eternal,
Set in some mysterious shade.

Full of dreams are the abysses
Of the night beneath her hair;
But an open dawn of kisses
Is her mouth: O she is fair.

And she has so sweet a fashion
With her languid loving eyes,
That she stirs my soul with passion,
And renews my breath with sighs.

Now she twines her hair in tresses
With some long red lustrous vine;
Now she weaves strange glossy dresses
From the leafy fabrics fine:

And upon her neck there mingle
Corals and quaint serpent charms,
And bright beaded sea-shells jingle,
Set in circlets round her arms.

There—in solitudes sweet smelling,
Where the mighty Banyan stands,
I and she have found a dwelling
Shadowed by its giant hands:

All around our banyan bowers
Shine the reddening palm-tree ranks
And the wild rare forest flowers
Crowded on high purple banks.

Through the long enchanted weather
—Ere the swollen fruits yet fall,
While red love-birds sit together
In thick green, and voices call

From the hidden forest places,
And are answered with strange shout
By the folk whose myriad faces
All day long are peeping out

From shy loopholes all above us
In the leafy hollows green,
—While all creatures seem to love us,
And the lofty boughs are seen

Gilded and for ever haunted
By the far ethereal smiles—
Through the long bright time enchanted,
In those solitudes for miles,

I and She—at heart possessing
Rhapsodies of tender thought—
Wander, till our thoughts too pressing
Into new sweet words are wrought.

And at length, with full hearts sinking
Back to silence and the maze
Of immeasurable thinking,
In those inward forest ways,

We recline on mossy couches,
Vanquished by mysterious calms,
All beneath the soothing touches
Of the feather-leaved fan-palms.

Strangely, with a mighty hushing,
Falls the sudden hour of noon;
When the flowers droop with blushing,
And a deep miraculous swoon

Seems subduing the whole forest;
Or some distant joyous rite
Draws away each bright-hued chorist:
Then we yield with long delight

Each to each, our souls deep thirsting;
And no sound at all is nigh,
Save from time to time the bursting
Of some fire-fed fruit on high.

Then with sudden overshrouding
Of impenetrable wings,
Comes the darkness and the crowding
Mysteries of the unseen things.

O how happy are we lovers
In weak wanderings hand in hand!—
Whom the immense palm forest covers
In that strange enchanted land;

Whom its thousand sights stupendous
Hold in breathless charmed suspense;
Whom its hidden sounds tremendous
And its throbbing hues intense

And the mystery of each glaring
Flower o'erwhelm with wonder dim;—
We, who see all things preparing
Some Great Spirit's world for him!

Under pomps and splendid glamour
Of the night skies limitless;
Through the weird and growing clamour
Of the swaying wilderness;

Through each shock of sound that shivers
The serene palms to their height,
By white rolling tongues of rivers
Launched with foam athwart the night;

Lost and safe amid such wonders,
We prolong our human bliss;
Drown the terrors of the thunders
In the rapture of our kiss.

By some moon-haunted savanna,
In thick scented mid-air bowers
Draped about with some liana,
O what passionate nights are ours!

O'er our heads the squadron-dances
Of the fire-fly wheel and poise;
And dim phantoms charm our trances,
And link'd dreams prolong our joys—

Till around us creeps the early
Sweet discordance of the dawn,
And the moonlight pales, and pearly
Halos settle round the morn;

And from remnants of the hoary
Mists, where now the sunshine glows,
Starts at length in crimson glory
Some bright flock of flamingoes.

O that land where the suns linger
And the passion-flowers grow
Is the land for me the Singer:
There I made me, years ago,

Many a golden habitation,
Full of things most fair to see;
And the fond imagination
Of my heart dwells there with me.

Now, farewell, all shameful sorrow!
Farewell, troublous world of men!
I shall meet you on some morrow,
But forget you quite till then.





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