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Read Ebook: Whipperginny by Graves Robert
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Ebook has 299 lines and 23478 words, and 6 pages
To Any Saint 70
A Dewdrop 71
A Valentine 72
To cards we have recourse When Time with cruelty runs, To courtly Bridge for stress of love, To Nap for noise of guns.
On fairy earth we tread, No present problems vex Where man's four humours fade to suits, With red and black for sex.
Then read the antique word That hangs above this page As type of mirth-abstracted joy, Calm terror, noiseless rage,
A realm of ideal thought, Obscured by veils of Time, Cipher remote enough to stand As namesake for my rhyme,
A game to play apart When all but crushed with care; Let right and left, your jealous hands, The lists of love prepare.
THE BEDPOST
Sleepy Betsy from her pillow Sees the post and ball Of her sister's wooden bedstead Shadowed on the wall.
Now this grave young warrior standing With uncovered head Tells her stories of old battle, As she lies in bed.
How the Emperor and the Farmer, Fighting knee to knee, Broke their swords but whirled their scabbards Till they gained the sea.
How the ruler of that shore Foully broke his oath, Gave them beds in his sea cavern, Then stabbed them both.
How the daughters of the Emperor, Diving boldly through, Caught and killed their father's murderer, Old Cro-bar-cru.
How the Farmer's sturdy sons Fought the giant Gog, Threw him into Stony Cataract In the land of Og.
Will and Abel were their names, Though they went by others; He could tell ten thousand stories Of these lusty brothers.
How the Emperor's elder daughter Fell in love with Will, And went with him to the Court of Venus Over Hoo Hill;
How Gog's wife encountered Abel Whom she hated most, Stole away his arms and helmet, Turned him to a post.
As a post he shall be rooted For yet many years, Until a maiden shall release him With a fall of tears.
But Betsy likes the bloodier stories, Clang and clash of fight, And Abel wanes with the spent candle, "Sweetheart, good-night!"
A LOVER SINCE CHILDHOOD
Tangled in thought am I, Stumble in speech do I? Do I blunder and blush for the reason why? Wander aloof do I, Lean over gates and sigh, Making friends with the bee and the butterfly?
If thus and thus I do, Dazed by the thought of you, Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew, My heart cut through and through In this despair for you, Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew;
Give then a thought for me Walking so miserably, Wanting relief in the friendship of flower or tree; Do but remember, we Once could in love agree, Swallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.
SONG OF CONTRARIETY
Far away is close at hand, Close joined is far away, Love might come at your command Yet will not stay.
At summons of your dream-despair She could not disobey, But slid close down beside you there And complaisant lay.
Yet now her flesh and blood consent In waking hours of day, Joy and passion both are spent, Fading clean away.
Is the presence empty air, Is the spectre clay, That Love, lent substance by despair, Wanes, and leaves you lonely there On the bridal day?
THE RIDGE-TOP
Below the ridge a raven flew And we heard the lost curlew Mourning out of sight below; Mountain tops were touched with snow; Even the long dividing plain Showed no wealth of sheep or grain, But fields of boulders lay like corn And raven's croak was shepherd's horn To slow cloud shadow strayed across A pasture of thin heath and moss. The North Wind rose; I saw him press With lusty force against your dress, Moulding your body's inward grace, And streaming off from your set face; So now no longer flesh and blood, But poised in marble thought you stood, O wingless Victory, loved of men, Who could withstand your triumph then?
SONG IN WINTER
Unrepentant, hoping Spring, Flowery hoods of glory hoping, Carelessly I sing, With envy none for the broken spray When the Spring comes, fallen away.
UNICORN AND THE WHITE DOE
Unicorn with bursting heart Breath of love hath drawn On his desolate crags apart At rumour of dawn;
Has volleyed forth his pride Twenty thousand years mute, Tossed his horn from side to side, Lunged with his foot.
"Like a storm of sand I run Breaking the desert's boundaries, I go in hiding from the sun In thick shade of trees.
Straight was the track I took Across the plains, but here with briar And mire the tangled alleys crook, Baulking desire.
And there, what glinted white? What was it darted from my sight Through the forest brakes?
Where are you fled from me? I pursue, you fade; I run, you hide from me In the dark glade.
Towering straight the trees grow, The grass grows thick. Where you are I do not know, You fly so quick."
"Seek me not here Lodged among mortal deer," Says the White Doe; "Keeping one place Held by the ties of Space," Says the White Doe. "I Equally In air Above your bare Hill crest, your basalt lair, Mirage-reflected drink At the clear pool's brink; With tigers at play In the glare of day Blithely I stray; Under shadow of myrtle With Phoenix and his Turtle For all time true; With Gryphons at grass Under the Upas, Sipping warm dew That falls hourly new; I, unattainable Complete, incomprehensible, No mate for you. In sun's beam Or star-gleam, No mate for you, No mate for you," Says the White Doe.
SULLEN MOODS
Love, do not count your labour lost Though I turn sullen, grim, retired Even at your side; my thought is crossed With fancies by old longings fired.
And when I answer you, some days Vaguely and wildly, do not fear That my love walks forbidden ways, Breaking the ties that hold it here.
If I speak gruffly, this mood is Mere indignation at my own Shortcomings, plagues, uncertainties; I forget the gentler tone.
You, now that you have come to be My one beginning, prime and end, I count at last as wholly me, Lover no longer nor yet friend.
Friendship is flattery, though close hid; Must I then flatter my own mind? And must Blind love of you make self-love blind?
Do not repay me my own coin, The sharp rebuke, the frown, the groan; Remind me, rather, to disjoin Your emanation from my own.
Help me to see you as before When overwhelmed and dead, almost, I stumbled on that secret door Which saves the live man from the ghost.
Be once again the distant light, Promise of glory, not yet known In full perfection--wasted quite When on my imperfection thrown.
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