April 25, 2009

  • I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
    And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
    Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
    With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed
    Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
    A few, and crocuses, and violets
    Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
    Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
    Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.
    And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
    Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
    Of Nature's willful moods; and here a one
    That had drunk in the transitory tone
    Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
    Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
    Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
    And watered with the scented dew long cupped
    In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
    Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars
    The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,
    A grey stone wall. o'ergrown with velvet moss
    Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed
    To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.
    And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
    The garden came a youth; one hand he raised
    To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair
    Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore
    A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes
    Were clear as crystal, naked all was he,
    White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
    Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes
    A marble floor, his brow chalcedony.
    And he came near me, with his lips uncurled
    And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
    And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend,
    Come I will show thee shadows of the world
    And images of life. See from the South
    Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.'
    And lo! within the garden of my dream
    I saw two walking on a shining plain
    Of golden light. The one did joyous seem
    And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
    Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids
    And joyous love of comely girl and boy,
    His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades
    Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy;
    And in his hand he held an ivory lute
    With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair,
    And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,
    And round his neck three chains of roses were.
    But he that was his comrade walked aside;
    He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes
    Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide
    With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs
    That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white
    Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red
    Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,
    And yet again unclenched, and his head
    Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.
    A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold
    With the device of a great snake, whose breath
    Was fiery flame: which when I did behold
    I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth,
    Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove
    These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth
    What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.'
    Then straight the first did turn himself to me
    And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame,
    But I am Love, and I was wont to be
    Alone in this fair garden, till he came
    Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill
    The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.'
    Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will,
    I am the love that dare not speak its name.'
    -    Lord Alfred Douglas