_They are
republished
here by kind permission of the
Editors.
Editors.
Tennyson
102.
Reflections.
The Wind and the Hills: p. 107.
The Happy Ones: p. 110.
A Question: p. 112.
The Earth: p. 113.
Aspirations: p. 114.
Romance: p. 115.
_Of the poems in this volume "Adeimantus" and "The Hermit and the Faun"
first appeared in_ THE CONTEMPORARY REVIEW, _and "The Song of Snorro"
in_ THE SPECTATOR.
_They are republished here by kind permission of the
Editors. _
FANTASIES.
Altruism: A Legend of Old Persia.
In the flowery land of Persia
Long ago, as poets tell,
Where three rivers met together
Did a happy people dwell.
Never did these happy people
Suffer sickness, plague, or dearth,
Living in a golden climate
In the fairest place on earth,
Living thus thro' endless summers
And half-summers hardly colder,
Growing, tho' they hardly guessed it,
Very gradually older.
I can very well imagine
These old Persian lords and ladies
Sitting in their pleasant gardens,
Dreaming, dozing, where the shade is;
Almond trees a mass of blossom,
Roses, roses, red as wine,
With the helmets of the tulips
Flaming in a martial line,
While beside a marble basin,
With a fountain gushing forth,
Stands a red-legged crane, alighted
From the deserts of the North.
So they lived these ancient people,
With the happy harmless faces,
Dreaming till the purple twilight
In their flowery garden-places,
Finding every year the sunshine
And the wind a little colder,
Growing, tho' they hardly guessed it,
Very gradually older,
Till at last they grew so frail
That to their gardens they were carried,
Very feeble and exhausted,
Weak as babes--But still they tarried,
Lying till the purple twilight
Wrapped in wool but hardly warm,
Wearing shawls of costliest texture
Lest the wind might do them harm,
Feeling very faint sensations
Of delight in each old breast,
Twittering with tiny voices
Like young swallows in a nest.
Then the young men spoke together
As they feasted in the taverns,
"It is time to take our Fathers,
We must bear them to the Caverns. "
In a mountain were the Caverns,
Fourteen leagues across the sand,
Fourteen leagues across the desert
In a naked golden land.
Black and bold and bare the mountain
Modelled into many shapes,
Cones and pyramids and pillars,
Beetling cliffs and jutting capes.
And within it were the Caverns
Tunnelled into every part,
Some by ancient Persian devils,
Others by a modern art.
Where the terraced lawns lay dreaming,
Underneath a cedar-tree
Dozed an ancient, ancient person
Tiny as a child of three.
Every day a gobbling negro
To his place the old man carried;
Very feeble and exhausted
Did he seem--but still he tarried.
Then Hasan, the young lord, murmured,
As he feasted in the taverns,
"It is time to take my Father,
I must bear him to the Caverns. "
So he took his long-maned pony,
Her who wore the silver shoes,
Galloped thro' the crowded highways
Like one with no time to lose.
Purpose in his warning outcry
(Was he not the next of kin?
Reflections.
The Wind and the Hills: p. 107.
The Happy Ones: p. 110.
A Question: p. 112.
The Earth: p. 113.
Aspirations: p. 114.
Romance: p. 115.
_Of the poems in this volume "Adeimantus" and "The Hermit and the Faun"
first appeared in_ THE CONTEMPORARY REVIEW, _and "The Song of Snorro"
in_ THE SPECTATOR.
_They are republished here by kind permission of the
Editors. _
FANTASIES.
Altruism: A Legend of Old Persia.
In the flowery land of Persia
Long ago, as poets tell,
Where three rivers met together
Did a happy people dwell.
Never did these happy people
Suffer sickness, plague, or dearth,
Living in a golden climate
In the fairest place on earth,
Living thus thro' endless summers
And half-summers hardly colder,
Growing, tho' they hardly guessed it,
Very gradually older.
I can very well imagine
These old Persian lords and ladies
Sitting in their pleasant gardens,
Dreaming, dozing, where the shade is;
Almond trees a mass of blossom,
Roses, roses, red as wine,
With the helmets of the tulips
Flaming in a martial line,
While beside a marble basin,
With a fountain gushing forth,
Stands a red-legged crane, alighted
From the deserts of the North.
So they lived these ancient people,
With the happy harmless faces,
Dreaming till the purple twilight
In their flowery garden-places,
Finding every year the sunshine
And the wind a little colder,
Growing, tho' they hardly guessed it,
Very gradually older,
Till at last they grew so frail
That to their gardens they were carried,
Very feeble and exhausted,
Weak as babes--But still they tarried,
Lying till the purple twilight
Wrapped in wool but hardly warm,
Wearing shawls of costliest texture
Lest the wind might do them harm,
Feeling very faint sensations
Of delight in each old breast,
Twittering with tiny voices
Like young swallows in a nest.
Then the young men spoke together
As they feasted in the taverns,
"It is time to take our Fathers,
We must bear them to the Caverns. "
In a mountain were the Caverns,
Fourteen leagues across the sand,
Fourteen leagues across the desert
In a naked golden land.
Black and bold and bare the mountain
Modelled into many shapes,
Cones and pyramids and pillars,
Beetling cliffs and jutting capes.
And within it were the Caverns
Tunnelled into every part,
Some by ancient Persian devils,
Others by a modern art.
Where the terraced lawns lay dreaming,
Underneath a cedar-tree
Dozed an ancient, ancient person
Tiny as a child of three.
Every day a gobbling negro
To his place the old man carried;
Very feeble and exhausted
Did he seem--but still he tarried.
Then Hasan, the young lord, murmured,
As he feasted in the taverns,
"It is time to take my Father,
I must bear him to the Caverns. "
So he took his long-maned pony,
Her who wore the silver shoes,
Galloped thro' the crowded highways
Like one with no time to lose.
Purpose in his warning outcry
(Was he not the next of kin?
