Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ERIC AND AXEL, by BAYARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ERIC AND AXEL, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Though they never divided my meat or wine
Last Line: "when she calls: ""ho, eric!"" and ""axel, ho!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Taylor, James Bayard
Subject(s): Kisses; Love; Singing & Singers


I.

THOUGH they never divided my meat or wine,
Yet Eric and Axel are friends of mine;
Never shared my sorrow, nor laughed with my glee,
Yet Eric and Axel are dear to me;
And faithfuller comrades no man ever knew
Than Eric and Axel, the fearless, the true!

II.

When I hit the target, they feel no pride;
When I spin with the waltzers, they wait outside;
When the holly of Yule-tide hangs in the hall,
And kisses are freest, they care not at all;
When I sing, they are silent; I speak, they obey,
Eric and Axel, my hope and my stay!

III.

They wait for my coming; they know
I shall come,
When the dancers are faint and the fid dlers numb,
With a shout of "Ho, Eric!" and "Axel, ho!"
As we skim the wastes of the Norrland snow,
And their frozen breath to a silvery gray
Turns Eric's raven and Axel's bay.

IV.

By the bondehus and the herregoard,
O'er the glassy pavement of frith and fiord,
Through the tall fir-woods, that like steel are drawn
On the broadening red of the rising dawn,
Till one low roof, where the hills unfold,
Shelters us all from the angry cold.

V.

I tell them the secret none else shall hear;
I love her, Eric, I love my dear!
I love her, Axel; wilt love her, too,
Though her eyes are dark and mine are blue?
She has eyes like yours, so dark and clear:
Eric and Axel will love my dear!

VI.

They would speak if they could; but I think they know
Where, when the moon is thin, they shall go,
To wait awhile in the sleeping street,
To hasten away upon snow-shod feet, --
Away and away, ere the morning star
Touches the tops of the spires of Calmar!

VII.

Per, the merchant, may lay at her feet
His Malaga wine and his raisins sweet,
Brought in his ships from Portugal land,
And I am as bare as the palm of my hand;
But she sighs for me, and she sighs for you,
Eric and Axel, my comrades true!

VIII.

You care not, Eric, for gold and wine;
You care not, Axel, for show and shine;
But you care for the touch of the hand that's dear,
And the voice that fondles you through the ear,
And you shall save us, through storm and snow,
When she calls: "Ho, Eric!" and "Axel, ho!"





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