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第2章 Chamber Music(1)

I

Strings in the earth and air Make music sweet;Strings by the river where The willows meet.

There's music along the river For Love wanders there, Pale flowers on his mantle, Dark leaves on his hair.

All softly playing, With head to the music bent, And fingers straying Upon an instrument.

II

The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green glow The trees of the avenue.

The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay;She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way.

Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander as they list -- -The twilight turns to darker blue With lights of amethyst.

III

At that hour when all things have repose, O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the sighs Of harps playing unto Love to unclose The pale gates of sunrise?

When all things repose, do you alone Awake to hear the sweet harps play To Love before him on his way, And the night wind answering in antiphon Till night is overgone?

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love, Whose way in heaven is aglow At that hour when soft lights come and go, Soft sweet music in the air above And in the earth below.

IV

When the shy star goes forth in heaven All maidenly, disconsolate, Hear you amid the drowsy even One who is singing by your gate.

His song is softer than the dew And he is come to visit you.

O bend no more in revery When he at eventide is calling.

Nor muse: Who may this singer be Whose song about my heart is falling?

Know you by this, the lover's chant, 'Tis I that am your visitant.

V

Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air.

My book was closed, I read no more, Watching the fire dance On the floor.

I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

Singing and singing A merry air, Lean out of the window, Goldenhair.

VI

I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!)Where no rude wind might visit me.

Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be.

I would be ever in that heart (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!)Where only peace might be my part.

Austerities were all the sweeter So I were ever in that heart.

VII

My love is in a light attire Among the apple-trees, Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo The young leaves as they pass, My love goes slowly, bending to Her shadow on the grass;And where the sky's a pale blue cup Over the laughing land, My love goes lightly, holding up Her dress with dainty hand.

VIII

Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her?

Who goes amid the merry green wood To make it merrier?

Who passes in the sunlight By ways that know the light footfall?

Who passes in the sweet sunlight With mien so virginal?

The ways of all the woodland Gleam with a soft and golden fire -- -For whom does all the sunny woodland Carry so brave attire?

O, it is for my true love The woods their rich apparel wear -- -O, it is for my own true love, That is so young and fair.

IX

Winds of May, that dance on the sea, Dancing a ring-around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overhead The foam flies up to be garlanded, In silvery arches spanning the air, Saw you my true love anywhere?

Welladay! Welladay!

For the winds of May!

Love is unhappy when love is away!

X

Bright cap and streamers, He sings in the hollow:

Come follow, come follow, All you that love.

Leave dreams to the dreamers That will not after, That song and laughter Do nothing move.

With ribbons streaming He sings the bolder;In troop at his shoulder The wild bees hum.

And the time of dreaming Dreams is over -- -As lover to lover, Sweetheart, I come.

XI

Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, Bid adieu to girlish days, Happy Love is come to woo Thee and woo thy girlish ways -- -The zone that doth become thee fair, The snood upon thy yellow hair,When thou hast heard his name upon The bugles of the cherubim Begin thou softly to unzone Thy girlish bosom unto him And softly to undo the snood That is the sign of maidenhood.

XII

What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet -- -A sage that is but kith and kin With the comedian Capuchin?

Believe me rather that am wise In disregard of the divine, A glory kindles in those eyes Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!

No more be tears in moon or mist For thee, sweet sentimentalist.

XIII

Go seek her out all courteously, And say I come, Wind of spices whose song is ever Epithalamium.

O, hurry over the dark lands And run upon the sea For seas and lands shall not divide us My love and me.

Now, wind, of your good courtesy I pray you go, And come into her little garden And sing at her window;Singing: The bridal wind is blowing For Love is at his noon;And soon will your true love be with you, Soon, O soon.

XIV

My dove, my beautiful one, Arise, arise!

The night-dew lies Upon my lips and eyes.

The odorous winds are weaving A music of sighs:

Arise, arise, My dove, my beautiful one!

I wait by the cedar tree, My sister, my love, White breast of the dove, My breast shall be your bed.

The pale dew lies Like a veil on my head.

My fair one, my fair dove, Arise, arise!

XV

From dewy dreams, my soul, arise, From love's deep slumber and from death, For lo! the treees are full of sighs Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.

Eastward the gradual dawn prevails Where softly-burning fires appear, Making to tremble all those veils Of grey and golden gossamer.

While sweetly, gently, secretly, The flowery bells of morn are stirred And the wise choirs of faery Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

XVI

O cool is the valley now And there, love, will we go For many a choir is singing now Where Love did sometime go.

And hear you not the thrushes calling, Calling us away?

O cool and pleasant is the valley And there, love, will we stay.

XVII

Because your voice was at my side I gave him pain, Because within my hand I held Your hand again.

There is no word nor any sign Can make amend -- -He is a stranger to me now Who was my friend.

XVIII

O Sweetheart, hear you Your lover's tale;A man shall have sorrow When friends him fail.

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