And now the
blossoms
by the night be stirred
Around you surge, and may their purple fall
To veil from sight your shame.
Around you surge, and may their purple fall
To veil from sight your shame.
Stefan George - Selections from His Works and Others
Our loving arms towards the mossy bark extended,
We bid farewell unto the final tree,
Then down through flowers towards our lovely goal
descended:
And earth and ether swam in a golden sea.
56
? Roses
IN white and glowing blossomy undulation,
From shrubs encircling distant heights and hollows,
You lost yourself . . . . sang musing, as you hastened
Within the fragrant thicket. . . you, abandoned quite
Within the rosy sheen. At noonday tumbled
Leaflets, changing with delight upon your lips,
And as you slept there played with you, bunches,
bushes,
Billows of roses.
That eve should still have found you here! you
wander
In shrubs where you no longer know the way
Yea, blind and wounded by the thorny kiss . .
Now tarry there--your head bowed low and bleeding.
And now the blossoms by the night be stirred
Around you surge, and may their purple fall
To veil from sight your shame. Thus learn of
mourning
And strife from roses,
57
? Songs
PRELUDE
STARS ascend up there
And strike up the song,
Stars descend up there
With the counter-song.
Because so fair thou art
Moves the spheral course,
And when mine thou art
I will command its course.
Because so fair thou art
Exiled I am till death,
Because my lord thou art
My path is dole and death.
"That so fair I am
Thus it dawns on me,
That all thine I am
This I swear to thee. "
58
? I
FAR from the harbour's noise,
Lies the sun-kissed shore,
Where billows sink to rest--
Hope slips softly away.
There, a wind from the sea
Stirs the arched waves up,
Rearing high, they break.
Thus doth anguish surge!
Still louder the breakwater sounds,
And hissing it beats the surf
Up to the sand-dune heights.
And thus doth passion moan.
59
? II
MY child came home,
The sea-breeze in his hair still blows,
His gait still bears
The traveller's proven fear and youthful glee.
From salty spray
The brown tint of his glowing cheek still rough;
Fruit quickly ripe,
'Neath foreign suns in scorching airs and heat.
His look is grave,
--Yea from thejsecret that I never knew--
And slightly glazed,
Since to our winter from the spring he came.
We bid farewell unto the final tree,
Then down through flowers towards our lovely goal
descended:
And earth and ether swam in a golden sea.
56
? Roses
IN white and glowing blossomy undulation,
From shrubs encircling distant heights and hollows,
You lost yourself . . . . sang musing, as you hastened
Within the fragrant thicket. . . you, abandoned quite
Within the rosy sheen. At noonday tumbled
Leaflets, changing with delight upon your lips,
And as you slept there played with you, bunches,
bushes,
Billows of roses.
That eve should still have found you here! you
wander
In shrubs where you no longer know the way
Yea, blind and wounded by the thorny kiss . .
Now tarry there--your head bowed low and bleeding.
And now the blossoms by the night be stirred
Around you surge, and may their purple fall
To veil from sight your shame. Thus learn of
mourning
And strife from roses,
57
? Songs
PRELUDE
STARS ascend up there
And strike up the song,
Stars descend up there
With the counter-song.
Because so fair thou art
Moves the spheral course,
And when mine thou art
I will command its course.
Because so fair thou art
Exiled I am till death,
Because my lord thou art
My path is dole and death.
"That so fair I am
Thus it dawns on me,
That all thine I am
This I swear to thee. "
58
? I
FAR from the harbour's noise,
Lies the sun-kissed shore,
Where billows sink to rest--
Hope slips softly away.
There, a wind from the sea
Stirs the arched waves up,
Rearing high, they break.
Thus doth anguish surge!
Still louder the breakwater sounds,
And hissing it beats the surf
Up to the sand-dune heights.
And thus doth passion moan.
59
? II
MY child came home,
The sea-breeze in his hair still blows,
His gait still bears
The traveller's proven fear and youthful glee.
From salty spray
The brown tint of his glowing cheek still rough;
Fruit quickly ripe,
'Neath foreign suns in scorching airs and heat.
His look is grave,
--Yea from thejsecret that I never knew--
And slightly glazed,
Since to our winter from the spring he came.
