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Complete Poems

Page 39

by Cecil Day-Lewis


  Cherubs shook down the chestnuts

  From trees over a jetty, where fishing nets

  Were sunshine hung out in skeins

  To dry, and the fishing boats in their little harbour

  Lay breathing asleep. Far

  And free, the sun was writing, rewriting ceaselessly

  Hieroglyphs on the lake –

  Copying a million, million times one sacred

  Vanishing word, peace.

  The globed hours bloomed. It was grape-harvest season,

  And time to go. They turned and hurried away

  With never a look behind,

  As if they were sure perfection could only stay

  Perfect now in the mind,

  And a backward glance would tarnish or quite devalue

  That innocent, golden scene.

  Though their hearts shrank, as if not till now they knew

  It was paradise where they had been,

  They broke from the circle of bliss, the sunlit haven.

  Was it for guilt they fled?

  From enchantment? Or was it simply that they were driven

  By the migrant’s punctual need?

  All these, but more – the demand felicity makes

  For release from its own charmed sphere,

  To be carried into the world of flaws and heartaches,

  Reborn, though mortally, there.

  So, then, they went, cherishing their brief vision.

  One watcher smiled to see

  Them go, and sheathed a flaming sword, his mission

  A pure formality.

  1 Torre del Benaco 1951. The first Italian visit after our marriage.

  On a Dorset Upland

  The floor of the high wood all smoking with bluebells,

  Sap a-flare, wildfire weed, a here-and-gone wing,

  Frecklings of sunlight and flickerings of shadowleaf –

  How quick, how gustily kindles the spring,

  Consumes our spring!

  Tall is the forenoon of larks forever tingling:

  A vapour trail, threading the blue, frays out

  Slowly to a tasselled fringe; and from horizon

  To horizon amble white eternities of cloud,

  Sleepwalking cloud.

  Here in this niche on the face of the May morning,

  Fast between vale and sky, growth and decay,

  Dream with the clouds, my love, throb to the awakened

  Earth who has quickened a paradise from clay,

  Sweet air and clay.

  Now is a chink between two deaths, two eternities.

  Seed here, root here, perennially cling!

  Love me today and I shall live today always!

  Blossom, my goldenmost, at-long-last spring,

  My long, last spring!

  Dedham Vale, Easter 1954

  FOR E.J.H.

  It was much the same, no doubt,

  When nature first laid down

  These forms in his youthful heart.

  Only the windmill is gone

  Which made a miller’s son

  Attentive to the clouds.

  This is the vale he knew –

  Its games of sun and shower,

  Willow and breeze, the truant

  Here-and-there of the Stour;

  And an immutable church tower

  To polarize the view.

  Yet, earnestly though we look

  At such hard facts, the mill,

  The lucid tower and the lock

  Are something less than real.

  For this was never the vale

  He saw and showed unique –

  A landscape of the heart,

  Of passion nursed on calm,

  Where cloud and stream drew out

  His moods, and love became

  A brush in his hand, and the elm tree

  Lived like a stroke of art.

  His sunburst inspiration

  Made earthly forms so true

  To life, so new to vision,

  That now the actual view

  Seems a mere phantom, through

  Whose blur we glimpse creation.

  It wears a golden fleece

  Of light. However dull

  The day, one only sees here

  His fresh and flying colours –

  A paradise vale where all is

  Movement and all at peace.

  The Great Magicians

  To fish for pearls in Lethe,

  Wash gold from age-long grief;

  To give infinity a frame,

  The may-fly a reprieve:

  In a calm phrase to utter

  The wild and wandering sky;

  To reconcile a lover’s Eden

  With a madman’s sty:

  To mediate between

  The candle and the moth;

  To plug time’s dripping wound, or spin

  A web across hell’s mouth:

  Such feats the great magicians

  Found within their powers,

  Whose quick illusions bodied out

  A world more whole than ours.

  But the hollow in the breast

  Where a God should be –

  This is the fault they may not

  Absolve nor remedy.

  Moods of Love

  1

  The melting poles, the tongues that play at lightning,

  All that gross hurricane hatched from a sigh –

  These are the climax to his sure routine.

  But first, a glance coins gold in the air, doves issue

  From clasped hands, knots no one saw tied are tightening;

  The card you chose, or were made to, wondrously

  Turns up here there and anywhere like a djinn,

  And borrowed time vanishes to amaze you.

  Admire the ’fluence of this conjuring

  As once again he runs the gamut through

  Of tricks you can neither fathom nor resist,

  Though well you know the old Illusionist

  Employs for his whole repertoire only two

  Simple properties – a rod, a ring.

  2

  Think of his transformations; thirsty babe,

  Secret companion, devil, confidante,

  Lapdog and sphinx – each hides that king whose orb

  Is the whole earth grasped in a bare ‘I want’.

  Redder the rose for him, sadder the fall,

  Who swells a trivial word into a portent,

  Turns dust to diamond, shows the bantam tall,

  The giant weak: nevertheless, most potent

  When he comes back insidious and subdued

  As an old jailbird begging one more chance.

  Whether you trust him then, or look askance,

  Or slam your door, at least don’t act the prude:

  He’s what you’ve made of him: plausible, lewd

  Or tough, he’s your flesh – was a pure child once.

  3

  ‘Oh shelter me from the invisible rain

  Corrodes my flesh piecemeal! Oh take me in –

  I’ll be your god, your man, your mannikin!’

  Cry the gaunt lecher and the ignorant swain.

  Dipped in eternity now, they find nowhere

  A flaw in the magic circle of their embracing:

  Two are reborn as one: where all is passing

  They dream a now for ever and set fair.

  Reborn! The very word is like a bell.

  From the warm trance, the virgin arms awoken,

  Each turns to his sole self. Out of the shell

  They step, unchanged. Only a spell is broken.

  Though there’s no cure, no making whole, no fusion,

  Live while you can the merciful illusion.

  4

  See, at a turn of her wrist, paradise open;

  Dote, lover, upon a turquoise vein;

  Feel how the blood flowers and the nerves go lilting

  Like butterflies through an immortal blue.

  Thi
s is creation morning. What could happen

  But miracles here? The god you entertain,

  The pure legend you breathe, no desert silting

  Over your garden ever makes untrue.

  New-seen, first-named, your own to hurt and heal,

  This commonplace of skin, bone, habit, sense

  Is now a place that never was before.

  Lose and possess yourself therein: adore

  The ideal clay, the carnal innocence.

  Where all’s miraculous, all is most real.

  5

  Inert, blanched, naked, at the gale’s last gasp

  Out of their drowning bliss flung high and dry

  Above the undertow, the breakers’ rasp,

  With shells and weed and shining wrack they lie.

  Or, as an isle asleep with its reflection

  Upon the absolute calm, each answers each

  In the twin trance of an unflawed affection

  That shows the substance clear, the dream in reach.

  By one arched, hollowing, toppling wave uptossed

  Together on the gentle dunes, they know

  A world more lucid for lust’s afterglow,

  Where, fondly separate, blind passion fused

  To a reflective glass, each holds in trust

  The other’s peace, and finds his real self so.

  6

  The dance, the plumage, all that flaunting day

  Of blood’s clairvoyance and enchanter’s wit

  Making trite things unique – you reckon it

  Tells more than brute necessity at play?

  Unwise. Another tedious, piteous woman

  Was Helen, got by heart. Can you adore

  The human animal’s ecstasy, yet ignore

  The ground and primitive logic of being human? –

  Deplore that closest viewed is clearliest changing,

  And least enduring is the most enthralling?

  That love breeds habit, habit brings estranging?

  That highest flown means most abysmal falling?

  When the flushed hour goes down, what residue

  From its broad-glittering flood remains to you?

  7

  Shells, weed, discoloured wrack – a spring tide’s litter

  Dully recalling its lost element,

  And one you live with, quarrelsome or complying,

  Are all that’s left of Aphrodite’s birth.

  Gone is the power she gave you to delight her,

  The period of grace, so quickly spent,

  When the day’s walk was a white dream of flying,

  Earth a far cry, she a sufficient earth.

  Whether long use has now choked your desire

  With its own clinker, or, abruptly parted

  At love’s high noon, incredulous you have stood

  Suffering her absence like a loss of blood

  Week after week, still, by the god deserted,

  You worship relics of a sacred fire.

  8

  Beware! Such idolizing can divorce

  Body and mind: the foam-bright fiction drains

  Purpose away and sings you from your course.

  Better a brutal twitching of the reins

  And off, than this devouring pious whore

  Who in a soft regret will twine you fast

  Where thigh-bones mope along the tainted shore

  And crazed beachcombers pick over their past.

  Love is the venturing on: think – as you fare

  Among strange islands, each a phantasy

  Of home, giving your strength to what must be

  Found and new-found through doubt, mirage, despair –

  Weaving, unweaving her true self somewhere

  Deep in your heart grows a Penelope.

  9

  If love means exploration – the divine

  Growth of a new discoverer first conceived

  In flesh, only the stranger can be loved:

  Familiar loving grooves its own decline.

  If change alone is true – the ever-shifting

  Base of each real or illusive show,

  Inconstancy’s a law: the you that now

  Loves her, to otherness is blindly drifting.

  But chance and fretting time and your love change her

  Subtly from year to year, from known to new:

  So she will always be the elusive stranger,

  If you can hold her present self in view.

  Find here, in constant change, faithful perceiving,

  The paradox and mode of all true loving.

  Last Words

  Suppose, they asked,

  You are on your death-bed (this is just the game

  For a man of words),

  With what definitive sentence will you sum

  And end your being?… Last words: but which of me

  Shall utter them?

  – The child, who in London’s infinite, intimate darkness

  Out of time’s reach,

  Heard nightly an engine whistle, remote and pure

  As a call from the edge

  Of nothing, and soon in the music of departure

  Had perfect pitch?

  – The romantic youth

  For whom horizons were the daily round,

  Near things unbiddable and inane as dreams,

  Till he had learned

  Through his hoodwinked orbit of clay what Eldorados

  Lie close to hand?

  – Or the ageing man, seeing his lifelong travel

  And toil scaled down

  To a flimsy web

  Stranded on two dark boughs, dissolving soon,

  And only the vanishing dew makes visible now

  Its haunted span?

  Let this man say,

  Blest be the dew that graced my homespun web.

  Let this youth say,

  Prairies bow to the treadmill: do not weep.

  Let this child say,

  I hear the night bird, I can go to sleep.

  1957

  THE GATE

  and other poems

  TO PEGGY AND JEREMY

  Acknowledgments are due to the editors of periodicals in which a number of these poems have appeared – the Critical Quarterly, Encounter, the Listener, the London Magazine, the New Yorker, Stand, The Times Literary Supplement, the Transatlantic Review, the Twentieth Century, Unicorn. The verses on pp. 578–9 are reproduced by permission of the proprietors of Punch.

  ‘The Disabused’ and ‘Not Proven’ were broadcast on the Third Programme of the B.B.C. in May 1960.

  ‘The Unexploded Bomb’ is part of the Prologue written for a midnight matinée, held in the Royal Festival Hall, in aid of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament.

  ‘The Christmas Rose’, in a setting by Alan Ridout, was sung by the University of London Musical Society in St Paul’s Cathedral on December 7th, 1961.

  ‘Requiem for the Living’ was written for music, and set by Donald Swann.

  Bread and Wine

  A cornfield, moon-bemused

  And crocketed with stooks,

  Or shining spheres upon the vine

  Are food and drink to one who looks

  Beyond his nose. Another

  May draw some aliment,

  Estimating what’s the yield of

  Matured existence they present.

  We labourers in this field

  Have not the same concern,

  Being strictly bound to melt into

  The shoots we tend, the earth we turn.

  Our dirt, our drought have grown

  That heady stuff they pour you:

  It is our hunger makes the bread,

  We who are blessed and broken for you.

  These staple foods ignore,

  Take, or spit out like phlegm;

  But do not think to isolate

  What was absorbed in making them.

  Your uttermost communion

  With us labouring men

  Is in t
he joy that we rejoiced with,

  Being consumed by grape and grain.

  The Gate

  FOR TREKKIE

  In the foreground, clots of cream-white flowers (meadow-sweet?

  Guelder? Cow parsley?): a patch of green: then a gate

  Dividing the green from a brown field; and beyond,

  By steps of mustard and sainfoin-pink, the distance

  Climbs right-handed away

  Up to an olive hilltop and the sky.

  The gate it is, dead-centre, ghost-amethyst-hued,

  Fastens the whole together like a brooch.

  It is all arranged, all there, for the gate’s sake

  Or for what may come through the gate. But those white flowers,

  Craning their necks, putting their heads together,

  Like a crowd that holds itself back from surging forward,

  Have their own point of balance – poised, it seems,

  On the airy brink of whatever it is they await.

  And I, gazing over their heads from outside the picture,

  Question what we are waiting for: not summer –

  Summer is here in charlock, grass and sainfoin.

  A human event? – but there’s no path to the gate,

  Nor does it look as if it was meant to open.

  The ghost of one who often came this way

  When there was a path? I do not know. But I think,

  If I could go deep into the heart of the picture

  From the flowers’ point of view, all I would ask is

  Not that the gate should open, but that it should

  Stay there, holding the coloured folds together.

  We expect nothing (the flowers might add), we only

  Await: this pure awaiting –

  It is the kind of worship we are taught.

  View From An Upper Window1

  FOR KENNETH AND JANE CLARK

  From where I am sitting, my windowframe

  Offers a slate roof, four chimneypots,

  One aerial, half of a leafless tree,

  And sky the colour of dejection. I could

  Move my chair; but, London being

  What it is, all would look much the same

  Except that I’d have the whole of that tree.

 

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