T h e C o l l ec t e d P o e m s o f Lord fred D o u glas L o n d o n M a r t i n S e e k e r xvii Buc kingham Street Ade lphi T h e C o l l e c t e d P o e m s o f Lord fred D o u gl as L o n d o n M a r t i n S e e k e r xvu Buckingham Stre et Ade lphi LIBRAA Y UNIVE RS ITY OF CALIF ORNIA S ANTA BARBARA 0 M Y MOTHE R T HE poems in thi s collection dating from about 1 890 to the 1 1 e present year 9 9, are print d in something approximating to ch ro i d n olog c al or er. Consequently readers are invited to note that the ll best poems are not , genera y speaking, to be found in the begin i n ng of the volume . A D . Contents 1 1 Apologia , 1 Autumn Days , 3 1 To Shakespeare, 4. Am oris I Vincula , 5 1 6 A Summer Storm , 1 A Winter Sunset , 7 1 8 In Summer , 2 0 In Winter, e 2 1 In Sarum Clos , 2 2 The Sphynx, o 2 Impressi n de Nuit , 3 To L 2 4 2 Night Coming Into a Garden, 5 2 6 Night Coming Out of a Garden , P e 2 rkin Warbeck, 7 6 A Song, 3 Et ern elle Plainte , 3 7 F - - Jonquil and leur de lys , 39 A Prayer, : In Memoriam Francis Archibald Douglas , The Image of Death, Vae Victis 49 1 The Garden of Death, 5 To Sleep, 5 3 Ode to My Soul , 54. Rejected, 55 8 The Travelling Companion , 5 e e e r The L g nd of Spin llo of A ezzo , 59 61 Spring , 6 Ennui , 3 6 Wine of Summer, 5 t o 6 Ode Autumn , 9 du 1 Harmonie Soir , 7 2 Le Balcon , 7 The Ballad of Saint Vitus , 74 th e 8 0 The City of Soul , th e 8 Sonnet on Sonnet , 3 8 A Triad of the Moon , 4 P 86 roem , Dedication to Sonnets 8 7 P 8 8 The Dead oet , i Am ara Valde 8 Dies , 9 l P 0 To a Si ent oet , 9 1 The Traitor, 9 2 Beauty and the Hunter, 9 Rewards , 93 e e Sil nc , 94 The Green River , 95 é 6 La Beaut , 9 0 Sois Sage Ma Douleur , 97 8 To Olive , 9 e 1 0 2 Forgetfuln ss , P 1 0 remonition , 3 Th e 1 0 Witch , 4 Behold, Your House is Left Unto You Desolate, 1 0 The End of Illusion , 7 1 08 Canker Blooms , 1 0 The Unspeakable Englishman , 9 1 1 0 Lighten our Darkness , 1 1 1 English Benedictines , 1 1 2 On a Showing of the Nativity, 1 1 Before a Crucifix, 3 ’ Hp o/og za Tell me not of Philosophies , Of morals , ethics , laws of life Give me no subtle theories , No instruments of wordy strife . I will not forge laborious chains ll Link after link, ti seven times seven , I need no ponderous iron cranes To haul my soul from earth to heaven . i But with a burnished w ng, - Rainbow hued in the sun , I will dive and leap and run In the air , and I Will bring Back to the earth a heavenly thing , I will dance through the stars And pass the blue bars Of heaven . I will catch hands with God And speak with Him , I Will kiss the lips of the seraphim And the deep - eyed cherubim I will pluck of the flowers that nod Row upon row upon row, In the infinite gardens of God, ’ ‘ F o r th e auth or s p re sen t v i ew of th e se an d simil ar s en t im ent s in his ea rly ” oe see Note e 1 2 p ms, pag 5 . I I To the breath of the wind of the sweep of the lyres , And the cry of the strings t h e e And golden Wir s , And the mystical musical things That the world may not know . 1 2 To Sfia éexp ea r e e Most tuneful singer , lover tender st , o o Most sad, most pite us , and m st musical, Thine is the shrine more pilgrim— worn than all The shrines of singers high above the rest Thy trumpet sounds most loud , most manifest . Yet better were it if a lonely call l Of wood and birds , a song, a madrigal , t h ’ Were all the jetsam of y sea s unrest . For n ow thy praises have become t o o loud On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur e ae t h e Yaps the a p an whiles little men , Not tall enough to worship in a crowd, Ah Spit their small wits at thee . better then The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper . ' A m aris Vzncn /tz As a White dove that , in a cage of gold, Is prisoned from the air , and yet more bound wil By love than bars , and l not wings unfold To fly away, though every gate be found was Unlocked and Open so my heart caught , li And rdred to thine With triple links of love . But soon , a clove grown wanton , false it sought hl To break its chain , and fait ess quite to rove Where thou wouldst not ; and with a painted bird off . Fluttered far But When a moon was past , Grown sick With longing for a voice unheard flew And lips unkissed, spread Wings and home fast . 10 And what seemed a sword to cleave its chain, Was but a link to rivet it again . 1 4 Summer Storm Al as how frail and weak a little boat I have sailed in . I called it Happiness , And I had thought there was not storm nor stress Of Wi nd so masterful but it would flo at Blithely in their despite but 10 one note Of harsh discord , one word of bitterness , And a fierce overwhelming wilderness Of angry waters chokes my gasping throat . n I am near drow ed in this unhappy sea , e lie I will not striv , let me still and sink , n o I have joy to live . Oh unkind love Why have you wounded me so bitterly ? That am as e asily wounded as a dove Wh o e has a silver throat and f et of pink . 1 6 A Winter Sunset r The frosty sky, like a fu nace burning, The keen air, crisp and cold, And a sunset that splashes the clouds with gold But my heart to summer turning . Come back, sweet summer come back again I hate the snow, An d the icy winds that the north lands blow, And the fall of the frozen rain . I hate the iron ground, And the Christmas roses , And the sickly day that dies when it closes , With never a song or a sound . Come back come back with your passionate heat An d glowing hazes , And your sun that shines as a lover gazes, And your day with the tired feet . I 7 I n Summer There were the black pine trees, And the sullen hills Frowning ; there were trills Of birds , and the sweet hot sun, And little rills w Of ater, everyone Singing and prattling ; there were bees - Honey laden, tuneful, a song - off Far , and a timid air k That sighed and issed my hair, My hair that the hot sun loves . The day was very fair , was There wooing of doves , e And t h shadows were not yet long . And I lay on the soft green grass , An d l was w the sme l of the earth s eet , And I dipped my feet In the little stream was l And cool as a flower is coo in the heat, And the day lay still in a dream, And the hours forgot to pass . 1 8 And you came, my love , so stealthily That I saw you not Till I felt that your arms were hot wet Round my neck, and my lips were With your lips , I had forgot An d 10 How . sweet you were the sun has set , And the pale moon came up silently . Tburin ewold 1 8 2 g , 9 . I n Summer w There ere the black pine trees, And the sullen hills Frowning ; there were trill s Of birds , and the sweet hot sun, And little rills w Of ater, everyone Singing and prattling ; there were bees - Honey laden , tuneful, a song - Far off, and a timid air That sighed and kissed my hair, My hair that the hot sun loves . was The day very fair , was There wooing of doves , And the shadows were not yet long . And I lay on the soft green grass , was And the smell of the earth sweet , And I dipped my feet In the little stream And was cool as a flower is cool in th e And the day lay still in a dream, And the hours forgot to pass . 1 8 In Winter Oh " for a day of burning noon i And a sun l ke a glowing ember, Oh for one hour of golden june, l In the heart of this c hi l November .