1907 · CLOSE READING
Collected Works (Vol. III)
Collected Works (Vol. III) (1907), PDF p. 145
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LIBER PRIMUS VEL CARMINUM
139
ORPHEUS.
Then thou, O my mother,
Hast given to me
‘The power of another,
The watery key.
Bright air is my brother,
My sister the sea ;
I have called, and they answer and come;
and their song is but glory to thee.
One other is left me,
The light of the earth.
If Fate had bereft me,
Oh Muse, of thy birth,
Still I had cleft me
A way in her girth! |
I tune the loud lyre once again to the mother
of men in her mirth.
O mighty and glad
In spring-time and summer !
O tearful and sad
When the sun is grown dumber,
When the season is mad,
And the gods overcome her,
When the sky is fulfilled of the frost and the
fingers of winter numb her !
O marvellous earth
Of multiple mood
That givest men birth
And delicate food,
Red wine to make mirth
Of thine own red blood,
And corn and green grass and sweet flowers
and fruits most heavenly-hued !
Borne skyward in swoon
By arrowy hours,
Girt round of the:moon
And the girdling flowers,
The-sun for a boon,
Sweet, kisses 'of showers,
My soul is caught up
In thy green-hearted waves.
I drink at the cup
Of thy sweet valley graves.
My spirit may sup
Slow tunes in thy caves.
O hide me, thy child, in thy bosom, that the
heart in me yearns to and craves.
Most virginally sprung
In the shadow of light,
Eternally young,
A magical sight,
Wandering among
Day, twilight, and night,
As a bride in her chamber that dreams many
visions of varied delight.
O how shall my lyre
Divide thee, dispart
Thy water and fire,
Thy soul and thy heart,
Thy hills that spring higher,
Thy flowers that upstart,
How quire thee, my limitless love, with a
lewd and a limited art?
A fortress, a sphere,
An arrow of flame ;
Let thy children appear
At the sound of thy name!
In my silence uprear
The sweet guerdon of shame !
Be they choral to hymn thee, O mother, thy
magic ineffable fame !
Last birth of the Sun,
Best gift of the giver,
Thou surely art One !
As the moon on the river,
Whose star-blossoms run,
Kiss, tremble, and shiver,
O mother, O life, O desire, my soul is a
bird in thy bowers,!
And roll into ultimate space, and are lost to
man’s vision for ever.
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