Complete Poems

by Cecil Day-Lewis

  1 A brilliant cricketer and amateur actor. CDL’s colleague at Cheltenham Junior School, who died untimely.

  2 See note on Fathers to Sons (Pegasus) p. 514.

  Epilogue

  For those who had the power,

  Unhesitating whether to kill or cure:

  Those who were not afraid

  To dam the estuary or start the forest fire:

  Whose hearts were filled

  With enthusiasm as with a constant wind

  That, lifting the fog, the pall of vision, unveiled

  Their own memorial, the stars:

  There need be neither obituary nor wreath,

  Accomplices of death.

  These disappeared into the darkness ahead.

  Followers shall find

  Them walking larger than legends in that virgin land,

  Their spirit shall be blowing out of the sunrise,

  Their veins our rivers, their bones our bread.

  Others, too, will die hard.

  Spenders of life, they dealt freely with danger:

  These could not learn to hoard,

  To count the cost or to examine the change.

  A hungry soul

  Urged them to try new air-routes, and their skill

  Raftered the sky with steel:

  They took the field with laughter, they attacked the bowling.

  In the machine’s heart, regularly breathing,

  We hear their hearts still beat,

  Inherit their strength and swiftness through the turbine:

  Pausing between shifts or in the pub at evening

  We feel their generous heat;

  We remember them as the glowing fruit remembers

  Sap-flow and sunshine.

  1935

  NOAH AND THE WATERS

  TO CHARLES FENBY

  AUTHOR’S FOREWORD

  This work was begun as the ‘book’ for a choral ballet. The author, however, soon discovered he was producing something in the tradition of the mediæval morality plays. Noah and the Waters is probably not, on the other hand, suitable as it stands for the modern stage: like that of the morality plays, its drama derives largely from the weight and imminence of the issue it represents and little from any conscious dramatic construction. This issue is the choice that must be made by Noah between clinging to his old life and trusting himself to the Flood.

  C. D. L.

  ‘Finally, when the class war is about to be fought to a finish, disintegration of the ruling class and the old order of society becomes so active, so acute, that a small part of the ruling class breaks away to make common cause with the revolutionary class, the class which holds the future in its hands. …’

  The Communist Manifesto.

  Prologue

  This curve of ploughland, one clean stroke

  Denning earth’s nature constant to four seasons,

  Fixes too for ever her simple relationship

  With the sky and all systems imaginable there.

  This clean red stroke, like a heart-beat of the earth’s heart

  Felt here under the sunlight’s velvet hand,

  Draws something simple and perfect as breath – that leaves

  No more to be said,

  And yet implies what wonders beyond, what breathing cities,

  Pasture broad and untainted prairies of air.

  This curve – the naked breasts of woman exalted for love,

  Cradle both and summit of your superb ambition,

  Move not more certainly to that far-flying

  Among star-fields above even the wind’s excitement,

  And exhausted eddying down to peace.

  Lover’s eye is hawk’s eye, on the whole earth

  Spread for him seeing only the point of desire.

  And then there is the poet’s –

  His gaze that like the moonlight rests on all

  In level contemplation, making roof and ruin

  Treachery scorn and death into silver syllables

  And out of worn fragments a seamless coat.

  These I must have; but more.

  To see this ploughland curve as a graph of history,

  The unregarded sweat that has made it fertile,

  Reading between the furrows a desperate appeal

  From all whose share in them was bitter as iron,

  Hearing the young corn whisper

  The wishes of men that had no other voice.

  Only then am I able to know the difficult

  Birth of our new seed and bear my part of the harvest.

  CHORUS.

  Stand with us here

  On the south-western cliff of the great Jurassic escarpment,

  A common for rare wood-larks, a place where wind-pumps veer

  Constant as your necessity, drinking that reservoir

  Free to all: invisible the veins it is life to open,

  The lake only your death may look on.

  Stand with us now and hear

  Only the wood-lark’s irrelevant song, the shepherd’s whistle,

  And seven-league footfall of wind striding through dry grasses.

  For as yet the torrents to come are but a roaring in the ear

  Of prophets, or the raving fancy of one delirious with thirst.

  Pacific the sky, a delight for shepherds and hikers; though a seer

  Might behold over the cities to north and north-east spreading

  A stain, clouds not white, the coaling-up of wrath.

  Stand with us here.

  Feel underfoot the linked vertebræ of your land

  Stretching north to the far fells, the head of rivers.

  Prehistory sleeps below in many beds. Before

  Man set a value on his thoughts or made a prison for fear,

  These hills were grown up, to the sky happily married,

  That now are wrinkled with the rains of more than mortal years,

  Old enough to remember the first birds and the great reptiles.

  Stand with us. Far and near

  See history unfolded in the scrolled hills, her secret

  Indelible as hieroglyphs stamped on their stone, clear

  To the eye but hard for you to interpret. The green barrows

  Of Britons. The high camps where Roman eagles kept watch

  On Wales unblinking. The manors, cosy in combes. Dear

  The dewponds, and still black the circles of Jubilee bonfires.

  Stand with us here,

  The past at your feet, your fingers nervous like the lark’s wing

  To be up and doing. And now, for to-day’s sun goes higher,

  Let your hearts grow warm as wax to take note of the future:

  Let him step forward, if one there be wise to weather,

  From behaviour of martens or altered tones of the smooth-voiced weir

  Able to learn and to beware.

  Now look away

  Into the valley and deep into the unregarded

  Sweat that has made it fertile. That curve of ploughland see

  As a graph of history, and hear what the young corn tries to say.

  Read between those furrows a desperate appeal

  Of men who had no other voice.

  Now look beyond, this way.

  Behold a different growth: set in ancient wood,

  Grafted on to the valley stock, a new life – the Town.

  Consider the uniform foliage of roofs, hiding decay

  And rain-fearing pests and all the diversities of loving:

  Wind-screens dazzled by the sun: strip-built roads that stray

  Out like suckers to drain the country; and routes familiar

  To night-expresses, the fire-crest flyers, migrating south.

  Now come away

  From these self-flattering heights, and like a diver plunging

  Into his own image, enter the Town. You pass

  Nurseries that splash crude colour over war’s pale griefs,

  Nurturing seed for a soil shallow as soldier
s’ graves:

  Huts, the butt-ends of a war, Honour’s sloven retreat;

  And ashamed asphalt where the naked put on indifference – to-day

  Willowherb grows in the cracks, the idiot flower of exhaustion.

  Now closer look this way.

  Do not be deceived by the two-faced traffic signs, the expensive

  Flood-lit smile of civic beauties, the fountains that play

  In limelight like spoilt children. See rather how the old

  Their wintering ghosts creep out on gusts of warm nostalgia:

  The young, their run-ahead hope barred by Death’s one-way

  Approach: and the good like madmen preaching to locked faces.

  Look not away –

  Though ugly this, it is your foundation and your predicament.

  Behind the image of glass, the mirage of brick, you await

  A judgment and a choice. But listen for that which is still

  Less than the whisper of clouds assembling, of arrows falling.

  But look to him we will call Noah, figure of your fate,

  Him understand, him obey.

  FIRST VOICE.

  Call Noah!

  SECOND VOICE.

  Call Noah!

  CHORUS.

  Noah! Noah! Noah! Noah! Noah! Noah!

  (Enter NOAH)

  FIRST VOICE.

  I am the One that amounts to many,

  The collector of autographs, the coiner of money:

  I love you all, I built this town

  Because I was unhappy living alone.

  SECOND VOICE.

  I am the One who rents this villa,

  Now a recluse, but once I was a killer:

  I hate you all, I preserve my pride

  Looking down on the many I have locked outside.

  FIRST VOICE.

  I am the One that means to be more,

  I undress quickly, I leave open the door:

  My kisses are questions, until I can squeeze

  The whole world in my arms I’ll not be at ease.

  SECOND VOICE.

  I am the One that looks to be less,

  I tear up the riddles you are trying to guess:

  I will undress quickly, 1 am ready for bed

  For I’ll not be myself again until I am dead.

  FIRST VOICE.

  I am the One that makes you grow big,

  I am silver to beggars, there’s gold where I dig:

  I’m at home in the red cell or the cyclists’ rally,

  But my best friends have to admit I’m unruly.

  SECOND VOICE.

  I am the One that makes you feel small,

  The machine-gun’s mouth is the way I smile:

  My friends are the spy, the bacillus and the warder,

  I may be no beauty but I keep you in order.

  BOTH VOICES.

  We are the furnace, we are the snow,

  The maze and the monolith, the yes and the no:

  We are the fish and we are the bait,

  We are Noah, the figure of your fate.

  CHORUS.

  And now behold

  Burgesses, neighbours of Noah, cutting a fine figure,

  Canny to cut their losses, whose imagination runs on gold

  Like a hearse on rubber tyres. But something is wrong, they are galled

  By the trace of some tightening necessity, and restive their assurance.

  Why do they stand breathless as old

  Men who into a doorway run from sudden rain?

  (Enter three BURGESSES, reading newspapers)

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Seven and a half inches registered at Carlisle

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Derwent dam cracking under pressure

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Forty men swept to death on Merseyside

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Failure of Ham Hill power-station

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Birmingham and Coventry plunged into darkness

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Asparagus-crop threatened in Evesham valley

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Most disturbing

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Unprecedented

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Highly irregular

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Though of course it must stop soon

  SECOND BURGESS.

  We are safe here

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Undoubtedly

  FIRST BURGESS.

  At the same time, my factory in Nottingham

  SECOND BURGESS.

  My racing-stables, the boast of Berkshire

  THIRD BURGESS.

  My daughter’s house-party at Tunbridge Wells

  FIRST BURGESS.

  We have therefore come to ask you, Noah

  SECOND BURGESS.

  To use your influence at this juncture

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Your unquestioned organizing ability

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Since the Government seems pledged to inaction

  SECOND BURGESS.

  The Church still hunting for a formula

  THIRD BURGESS.

  The Police unable to control the situation

  FIRST BURGESS.

  All right-thinking citizens

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Must come

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Exactly

  (NOAH makes no sign)

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Please do not misunderstand our motives

  SECOND BURGESS.

  We are willing to make any reasonable sacrifice

  THIRD BURGESS.

  We can take our losses as well as the next man

  FIRST BURGESS.

  But this is no longer a personal affair

  SECOND BURGESS.

  It has become a matter of common humanity

  THIRD BURGESS.

  At such a time we sink our petty differences

  FIRST BURGESS.

  You cannot fail to be alarmed, Noah

  SECOND BURGESS.

  By the wholesale destruction of property we hear of

  THIRD BURGESS.

  To say nothing of the loss of valuable lives

  (NOAH moves uneasily)

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Ah, I knew you would not fail us

  SECOND BURGESS.

  It is terrible to think of one’s own children

  THIRD BURGESS.

  My point about valuable lives it was that moved him

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Of course within limits this flood might prove a blessing

  SECOND BURGESS.

  There’s much in our country that needs cleansing

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Conditions in the North I am told are scandalous

  FIRST BURGESS.

  But now these waters have got out of hand

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Lives and landmarks they remove they cannot restore

  THIRD BURGESS.

  In a word – destruction for the sake of destruction

  FIRST BURGESS.

  One asks, is it worth it

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Just so

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Hear, Hear

  FIRST VOICE.

  I hear a great army deploy on a plain,

  Distant the footfalls irregular as rain:

  Does it spell destruction, does it signal relief?

  A menace to mine or a message to live?

  SECOND VOICE.

  I hear a great car lapping fast overland,

  It is racing towards me, will it stop where I stand?

  Will they climb out and hand me the master-keys,

  The signed death-warrant, unconditional release?

  FIRST VOICE.

  Hang your head down, Noah, hark to the wind!

  The willows are trembling, the gulls have been warned:

  Someone is walking to you out of the sea,

  Love
is looking for you and me.

  SECOND VOICE.

  Hang your head down, Noah, hark to the rain!

  The weathercock is waiting, the life-guards have run:

  Something is coming to you over the grass,

  And it walks through brick and it hides behind glass.

  BOTH VOICES.

  We are the furnace, we are the snow,

  The maze and the monolith, the yes and the no:

  We are the fish and we are the bait,

  We are Noah, the figure of your fate.

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Now that you have realized the force of our contention

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Weighed carefully the pro and the con

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Cleared your mind of all irrelevant issues

  FIRST BURGESS.

  The moment you’ll admit is ripe for action

  SECOND BURGESS.

  We are willing to grant you emergency powers

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Salary and uniform would not be unattractive

  FIRST BURGESS.

  As lovers of this town, the paragon of progress

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Renowned equally for commerce and culture

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Possessing the largest Lido in the country

  FIRST BURGESS.

  We appeal to you to take what steps you deem necessary

  SECOND BURGESS.

  For the safeguarding of our common interests

  THIRD BURGESS.

  And the preservation of valuable lives

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Quite frankly, we cannot afford an inundation

  SECOND BURGESS.

  A blow at us would be a blow at the heart of

  THIRD BURGESS.

  England, the end of something rather beautiful

  FIRST BURGESS.

  It is therefore imperative that the flood be stopped

  SECOND BURGESS.

  Before it touches the fringe of our reputation

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Wets the feet of the Queen of Cities

  FIRST BURGESS.

  Dykes, diversions, chemicals, sandbags

  SECOND BURGESS.

  We leave the methods to you

  THIRD BURGESS.

  Hear, Hear

  (While the CHORUS speaks the BURGESSES go and look out of the wings)

  CHORUS.

  Too late! Listen and hear

  The lisp of waters whispering together in your public places,

  Mating in gutters, meeting at cross-roads, already mounting