Last Poems — Poems XIX-XXIV

XIX.

In midnights of November, When Dead Man's Fair is nigh, And danger in the valley, And anger in the sky, Around the huddling homesteads The leafless timber roars, And the dead call the dying And finger at the doors.

Oh, yonder faltering fingers Are hands I used to hold;

Their false companion drowses And leaves them in the cold.

Oh, to the bed of ocean, To Africk and to Ind, I will arise and follow Along the rainy wind.

The night goes out and under With all its train forlorn;

Hues in the east assemble And cocks crow up the morn.

The living are the living And dead the dead will stay, And I will sort with comrades That face the beam of day.

XX.

The night is freezing fast, To-morrow comes December;

And winterfalls of old Are with me from the past;

And chiefly I remember How Dick would hate the cold.

Fall, winter, fall; for he, Prompt hand and headpiece clever, Has woven a winter robe, And made of earth and sea His overcoat for ever, And wears the turning globe.

XXI.

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn, And up from India glances The silver sail of dawn.

The candles burn their sockets, The blinds let through the day, The young man feels his pockets And wonders what's to pay.

XXII.

The sloe was lost in flower, The April elm was dim;

That was the lover's hour, The hour for lies and him.

If thorns are all the bower, If north winds freeze the fir, Why, 'tis another's hour, The hour for truth and her.

XXIII.

In the morning, in the morning, In the happy field of hay, Oh they looked at one another By the light of day.

In the blue and silver morning On the haycock as they lay, Oh they looked at one another And they looked away.

XXIV. EPITHALAMIUM

He is here, Urania's son, Hymen come from Helicon;

God that glads the lover's heart, He is here to join and part.

So the groomsman quits your side And the bridegroom seeks the bride: Friend and comrade yield you o'er To her that hardly loves you more.

Now the sun his skyward beam Has tilted from the Ocean stream.

Light the Indies, laggard sun: Happy bridegroom, day is done, And the star from OEta's steep Calls to bed but not to sleep.

Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings All desired and timely things.

All whom morning sends to roam, Hesper loves to lead them home.

Home return who him behold, Child to mother, sheep to fold, Bird to nest from wandering wide: Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.

Pour it out, the golden cup Given and guarded, brimming up, Safe through jostling markets borne And the thicket of the thorn;

Folly spurned and danger past, Pour it to the god at last.

Now, to smother noise and light, Is stolen abroad the wildering night, And the blotting shades confuse Path and meadow full of dews;

And the high heavens, that all control, Turn in silence round the pole.

Catch the starry beams they shed Prospering the marriage bed, And breed the land that reared your prime Sons to stay the rot of time.

All is quiet, no alarms;

Nothing fear of nightly harms.

Safe you sleep on guarded ground, And in silent circle round The thoughts of friends keep watch and ward, Harnessed angels, hand on sword.