the children of the night-第4章

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And　they　were　like　a　book　that　I　could　read；

Whose　every　leaf；　miraculously　signed；

Outrolled　itself　from　Thought's　eternal　seed；

Love…rooted　in　God's　garden　of　the　mind。









Cliff　Klingenhagen







Cliff　Klingenhagen　had　me　in　to　dine

With　him　one　day；　and　after　soup　and　meat；

And　all　the　other　things　there　were　to　eat；

Cliff　took　two　glasses　and　filled　one　with　wine

And　one　with　wormwood。　　Then；　without　a　sign

For　me　to　choose　at　all；　he　took　the　draught

Of　bitterness　himself；　and　lightly　quaffed

It　off；　and　said　the　other　one　was　mine。



And　when　I　asked　him　what　the　deuce　he　meant

By　doing　that；　he　only　looked　at　me

And　grinned；　and　said　it　was　a　way　of　his。

And　though　I　know　the　fellow；　I　have　spent

Long　time　a…wondering　when　I　shall　be

As　happy　as　Cliff　Klingenhagen　is。









Charles　Carville's　Eyes







A　melancholy　face　Charles　Carville　had；

But　not　so　melancholy　as　it　seemed；　

When　once　you　knew　him；　　for　his　mouth　redeemed

His　insufficient　eyes；　forever　sad：

In　them　there　was　no　life…glimpse；　good　or　bad；　

Nor　joy　nor　passion　in　them　ever　gleamed；

His　mouth　was　all　of　him　that　ever　beamed；

His　eyes　were　sorry；　but　his　mouth　was　glad。



He　never　was　a　fellow　that　said　much；

And　half　of　what　he　did　say　was　not　heard

By　many　of　us：　　we　were　out　of　touch

With　all　his　whims　and　all　his　theories

Till　he　was　dead；　so　those　blank　eyes　of　his

Might　speak　them。　　Then　we　heard　them；　every　word。









The　Dead　Village







Here　there　is　death。　　But　even　here；　they　say；　

Here　where　the　dull　sun　shines　this　afternoon

As　desolate　as　ever　the　dead　moon

Did　glimmer　on　dead　Sardis；　　men　were　gay；

And　there　were　little　children　here　to　play；

With　small　soft　hands　that　once　did　keep　in　tune

The　strings　that　stretch　from　heaven；　till　too　soon

The　change　came；　and　the　music　passed　away。



Now　there　is　nothing　but　the　ghosts　of　things；　

No　life；　no　love；　no　children；　and　no　men；

And　over　the　forgotten　place　there　clings

The　strange　and　unrememberable　light

That　is　in　dreams。　　The　music　failed；　and　then

God　frowned；　and　shut　the　village　from　His　sight。









Boston







My　northern　pines　are　good　enough　for　me；

But　there's　a　town　my　memory　uprears　

A　town　that　always　like　a　friend　appears；

And　always　in　the　sunrise　by　the　sea。

And　over　it；　somehow；　there　seems　to　be

A　downward　flash　of　something　new　and　fierce；

That　ever　strives　to　clear；　but　never　clears

The　dimness　of　a　charmed　antiquity。









Two　Sonnets







　　I





Just　as　I　wonder　at　the　twofold　screen

Of　twisted　innocence　that　you　would　plait

For　eyes　that　uncourageously　await

The　coming　of　a　kingdom　that　has　been；

So　do　I　wonder　what　God's　love　can　mean

To　you　that　all　so　strangely　estimate

The　purpose　and　the　consequent　estate

Of　one　short　shuddering　step　to　the　Unseen。



No；　I　have　not　your　backward　faith　to　shrink

Lone…faring　from　the　doorway　of　God's　home

To　find　Him　in　the　names　of　buried　men；

Nor　your　ingenious　recreance　to　think

We　cherish；　in　the　life　that　is　to　come；

The　scattered　features　of　dead　friends　again。







　　II





Never　until　our　souls　are　strong　enough

To　plunge　into　the　crater　of　the　Scheme　

Triumphant　in　the　flash　there　to　redeem

Love's　handsel　and　forevermore　to　slough；

Like　cerements　at　a　played…out　masque；　the　rough

And　reptile　skins　of　us　whereon　we　set

The　stigma　of　scared　years　　are　we　to　get

Where　atoms　and　the　ages　are　one　stuff。



Nor　ever　shall　we　know　the　cursed　waste

Of　life　in　the　beneficence　divine

Of　starlight　and　of　sunlight　and　soul…shine

That　we　have　squandered　in　sin's　frail　distress；

Till　we　have　drunk；　and　trembled　at　the　taste；

The　mead　of　Thought's　prophetic　endlessness。









The　Clerks







I　did　not　think　that　I　should　find　them　there

When　I　came　back　again；　but　there　they　stood；

As　in　the　days　they　dreamed　of　when　young　blood

Was　in　their　cheeks　and　women　called　them　fair。

Be　sure；　they　met　me　with　an　ancient　air；　

And　yes；　there　was　a　shop…worn　brotherhood

About　them；　but　the　men　were　just　as　good；

And　just　as　human　as　they　ever　were。



And　you　that　ache　so　much　to　be　sublime；

And　you　that　feed　yourselves　with　your　descent；

What　comes　of　all　your　visions　and　your　fears？

Poets　and　kings　are　but　the　clerks　of　Time；

Tiering　the　same　dull　webs　of　discontent；

Clipping　the　same　sad　alnage　of　the　years。









Fleming　Helphenstine







At　first　I　thought　there　was　a　superfine

Persuasion　in　his　face；　but　the　free　glow

That　filled　it　when　he　stopped　and　cried；　〃Hollo！〃

Shone　joyously；　and　so　I　let　it　shine。

He　said　his　name　was　Fleming　Helphenstine；

But　be　that　as　it　may；　　I　only　know

He　talked　of　this　and　that　and　So…and…So；

And　laughed　and　chaffed　like　any　friend　of　mine。



But　soon；　with　a　queer；　quick　frown；　he　looked　at　me；

And　I　looked　hard　at　him；　and　there　we　gazed

With　a　strained　shame　that　made　us　cringe　and　wince：

Then；　with　a　wordless　clogged　apology

That　sounded　half　confused　and　half　amazed；

He　dodged；　　and　I　have　never　seen　him　since。









For　a　Book　by　Thomas　Hardy







With　searching　feet；　through　dark　circuitous　ways；

I　plunged　and　stumbled；　round　me；　far　and　near；

Quaint　hordes　of　eyeless　phantoms　did　appear；

Twisting　and　turning　in　a　bootless　chase；　

When；　like　an　exile　given　by　God's　grace

To　feel　once　more　a　human　atmosphere；

I　caught　the　world's　first　murmur；　large　and　clear；

Flung　from　a　singing　river's　endless　race。



Then；　through　a　magic　twilight　from　below；

I　heard　its　grand　sad　song　as　in　a　dream：

Life's　wild　infinity　of　mirth　and　woe

It　sang　me；　and；　with　many　a　changing　gleam；

Across　the　music　of　its　onward　flow

I　saw　the　cottage　lights　of　Wessex　beam。









Thomas　Hood







The　man　who　cloaked　his　bitterness　within

This　winding…sheet　of　puns　and　pleasantries；

God　never　gave　to　look　with　common　eyes

Upon　a　world　of　anguish　and　of　sin：

His　brother　was　the　branded　man　of　Lynn；

And　there　are　woven　with　his　jollities

The　nameless　and　eternal　tragedies

That　render　hope　and　hopelessness　akin。



We　laugh；　and　crown　him；　but　anon　we　feel

A　still　chord　sorrow…swept；　　a　weird　unrest；

And　thin　dim　shadows　home　to　midnight　steal；

As　if　the　very　ghost　of　mirth　were　dead　

As　if　the　joys　of　time　to　dreams　had　fled；

Or　sailed　away　with　Ines　to　the　West。









The　Miracle







〃Dear　brother；　dearest　friend；　when　I　am　dead；

And　you　shall　see　no　more　this　face　of　mine；

Let　nothing　but　red　roses　be　the　sign

Of　the　white　life　I　lost　for　him；〃　she　said；

〃No；　do　not　curse　him；　　pity　him　instead；

Forgive　him！　　forgive　me！　。　。　God's　anodyne

For　human　hate　is　pity；　and　the　wine

That　makes　men　wise；　forgiveness。　　I　have　read

Love's　message　in　love's　murder；　and　I　die。〃

And　so　they　laid　her　just　where　she　would　lie；　

Under　red　roses。　　Red　they　bloomed　and　fell；

But　when　flushed　autumn　and　the　snows　went　by；

And　spring　came；　　lo；　from　every　bud's　green　shell

Burst　a　white　blossom。　　　Can　love　reason　why？









Horace　to　Leuconoe







I　pray　you　not；　Leuconoe；　to　pore

With　unpermitted　eyes　on　what　may　be

Appointed　by　the　gods　for　you　and　me；

Nor　on　Chaldean　figures　any　more。

'T　were　infinitely　better　to　implore

The　present　only：　　whether　Jove　decree

More　winters　yet　to　come；　or　whether　he

Make　even　this；　whose　hard；　wave…eaten　shore

Shatters　the　Tuscan　seas　to…day；　the　last　

Be　wise　withal；　and　rack　your　wine；　nor　fill

Your　bosom　with　large　hopes；　for　while　I　sing；

The　envious　close　of　time　is　narrowing；　

So　seize　the　day；　　or　ever　it　be　past；　

And　let　the　morrow　come　for　what　it　will。









Reuben　Bright







Because　he　was　a　butcher　and　thereby

Did　earn　an　honest　living　（and　d