Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IMPROVISATIONS, by BAYARD TAYLOR Poet's Biography First Line: Through the lonely halls of the night Last Line: And here's to the goddess show Alternate Author Name(s): Taylor, James Bayard Subject(s): Death; Flowers; Kisses; Love; Dead, The | ||||||||
I. THROUGH the lonely halls of the night My fancies fly to thee: Through the lonely halls of the night, Alone, I cry to thee. For the stars bring presages Of love, and of love's delight: Let them bear my messages Through the lonely halls of the night! In the golden porch of the morn Thou com'st anew to me: In the golden porch of the morn, Say, art thou true to me? If dreams have shaken thee With the call thou canst not scorn, Let Love awaken thee In the golden porch of the morn! II. The rose of your cheek is precious; Your eyes are warmer than wine; You catch men's souls in the meshes Of curls that ripple and shine -- But, ah! not mine. Your lips are a sweet persuasion; Your bosom a sleeping sea; Your voice, with its fond evasion, Is a call and a charm to me; But I am free! As the white moon lifts the waters, You lift the passions, and lead; As a chieftainess proud with slaughters, You smile on the hearts that bleed: But I take heed! III. Come to me, Lalage! Girl of the flying feet, Girl of the tossing hair And the red mouth, small and sweet Less of the earth than air, So witchingly fond and fair Lalage! Touch me, Lalage! Girl of the soft white hand, Girl of the low white brow And the roseate bosom band; Bloom from an orchard bough Less downy-soft than thou, Lalage! Kiss me, Lalage! Girl of the fragrant breath, Girl of the sun of May; As a bird that flutters in death, My fluttering pulses say: If thou be Death, yet stay, Lalage! IV. What if I couch in the grass, or listlessly rock on the waters? If in the market I stroll, sit by the beakers of wine? Witched by the fold of a cloud, the flush of a meadow in blossom, Soothed by the amorous airs, touched by the lips of the dew? First must be color and odor, the simple, unmingled sensation, Then, at the end of the year, apples and honey and grain. You, reversing the order, your barren and withering branches Vainly will shake in the winds, mine hanging heavy with gold! V. Though thy constant love I share, Yet its gift is rarer; In my youth I thought thee fair; Thou art older and fairer! Full of more than young delight Now day and night are; For the presence, then so bright, Is closer, brighter. In the haste of youth we miss Its best of blisses: Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses. Dearer than the words that hide The love abiding, Are the words that fondly chide, When love needs chiding. Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth. She whom youth alone makes dear May awhile seem nearer: Thou art mine so many a year, The older, the dearer! VI. A grass-blade is my warlike lance, A rose-leaf is my shield; Beams of the sun are, every one, My chargers for the field. The morning gives me golden steeds, The moon gives silver-white; The stars drop down, my helm to crown, When I go forth to fight. Against me ride in iron mail The squadrons of the foe; The bucklers flash, the maces crash, The haughty trumpets blow. One touch, and all, with armor cleft, Before me turn and yield. Straight on I ride: the world is wide; A rose-leaf is my shield! Then dances o'er the waterfall The rainbow, in its glee; The daisy sings, the lily rings Her bells of victory. So am I armed where'er I go, And mounted night or day: Who shall oppose the conquering rose, And who the sunbeam slay? VII. The star o' the morn is whitest, The bosom of dawn is brightest; The dew is sown, And the blossom blown Wherein thou, my Dear, delightest Hark, I have risen before thee, That the spell of the day be o'er thee; That the flush of my love May fall from above, And, mixed with the morn, adore thee Dark dreams must now forsake thee, And the bliss of thy being take thee! Let the beauty of morn In thine eyes be born, And the thought of me awake thee! Come forth to hear thy praises, Which the wakening world upraises; Let thy hair be spun With the gold o' the sun, And thy feet be kissed by the daisies! VIII. Near in the forest I know a glade; Under the tree-tops A secret shade! Vines are the curtains, Blossoms the floor; Voices of waters Sing evermore. There, when the sunset s Lances of gold Pierce, or the moonlight Is silvery cold, Would that an angel Led thee to me -- So, out of loneliness Love should be! Never the breezes Should lisp what we say, Never the waters Our secret betray! Silence and shadow, After, might reign; But the old life be ours Never again! IX. What if we lose the seasons That seem of our happiest choice, That Life is fuller of reasons To sorrow than rejoice, That Time is richer in treasons, And Hope has a faltering voice? The dreams where with we were dowered Were gifts of an ignorant brain; The truth has at last overpowered The visions we clung to in vain: But who would resist, as a coward, The knowledge that cometh from pain? For the love, as a flower of the meadow, The love that stands firm as a tree -- For the stars that have vanished in shadow, The daylight, enduring and free -- For a dream of the dim El Dorado, A world to inhabit have we! X. Heart, in my bosom beating Fierce, as a power at bay! Ever thy rote repeating Louder, and then retreating, Who shall thy being sway? Over my will and under, Equally king and slave, Sometimes I hear thee thunder, Sometimes falter and blunder Close to the waiting grave! Oft, in the beautiful season, Restless thou art, and wild; Oft, with never a reason, Turnest and doest me treason, Treating the man as a child! Cold, when passion is burning, Quick, when I sigh for rest, Kindler of perished yearning, Curb and government spurning, Thou art lord of the breast! XI. Fill, for we drink to Labor! And Labor, you know, is Prayer: I'll be as grand as my neighbor Abroad, and at home as bare! Debt, and bother, and hurry! Others are burdened so: Here's to the goddess Worry, And here's to the goddess Show! Reckless of what comes after, Silent of whence we come: Splendor and feast and laughter Make the questioners dumb. Debt, and bother, and hurry! Nobody needs to know: Here's to the goddess Worry, And here's to the goddess Show Fame is what you have taken, Character's what you give: When to this truth you waken, Then you begin to live! Debt, and bother, and hurry! Others have risen so: Here's to the goddess Worry, And here's to the goddess Show Honor's a thing for derision, Knowledge a thing reviled; Love is a vanishing vision, Faith is the toy of a child! Debt, and bother, and hurry! Honesty's old and slow: Here's to the goddess Worry, And here's to the goddess Show | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND BEDOUIN [LOVE] SONG by BAYARD TAYLOR NATIONAL ODE; INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA by BAYARD TAYLOR |
|