Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Page 225

by Homer


  Yea, beds for all who come.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  In the Round Tower at Jhansi

  June 8, 1857 (Indian Mutiny)

  Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)

  A HUNDRED, a thousand to one: even so;

  Not a hope in the world remained:

  The swarming howling wretches below

  Gained and gained and gained.

  Skene looked at his pale young wife. 5

  ‘Is the time come?’— ‘The time is come.’

  Young, strong, and so full of life,

  The agony struck them dumb.

  Close his arm about her now,

  Close her cheek to his, 10

  Close the pistol to her brow —

  God forgive them this!

  ‘Will it hurt much?’ ‘No, mine own:

  I wish I could bear the pang for both.’ —

  ‘I wish I could bear the pang alone: 15

  Courage, dear, I am not loth.’

  Kiss and kiss: ‘It is not pain

  Thus to kiss and die.

  One kiss more.’— ‘And yet one again.’ —

  ‘Good-bye.’— ‘Good-bye.’ 20

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  William Morris

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Defence of Guenevere

  William Morris (1834–1896)

  BUT, knowing now that they would have her speak,

  She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,

  Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,

  As though she had had there a shameful blow,

  And feeling it shameful to feel aught but shame 5

  All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,

  She must a little touch it; like one lame

  She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head

  Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame

  The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said: 10

  “O knights and lords, it seems but little skill

  To talk of well-known things past now and dead.

  “God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,

  And pray you all forgiveness heartily!

  Because you must be right, such great lords; still 15

  “Listen, suppose your time were come to die,

  And you were quite alone and very weak;

  Yea, laid a dying while very mightily

  “The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak

  Of river through your broad lands running well: 20

  Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:

  “‘One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,

  Now choose one cloth for ever; which they be,

  I will not tell you, you must somehow tell

  “‘Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!’ 25

  Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,

  At foot of your familiar bed to see

  “A great God’s angel standing, with such dyes,

  Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,

  Held out two ways, light from the inner skies 30

  “Showing him well, and making his commands

  Seem to be God’s commands, moreover, too,

  Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;

  “And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,

  Wavy and long, and one cut short and red; 35

  No man could tell the better of the two.

  “After a shivering half-hour you said:

  ‘God help! heaven’s color, the blue;’ and he said, ‘hell.’

  Perhaps you would then roll upon your bed,

  “And cry to all good men that loved you well, 40

  ‘Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;’

  Launcelot went away, then I could tell,

  “Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,

  And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,

  And yet fear much to die for what was sown. 45

  “Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,

  Whatever may have happened through these years,

  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.”

  Her voice was low at first, being full of tears,

  But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill, 50

  Growing a windy shriek in all men’s ears,

  A ringing in their startled brains, until

  She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,

  And her great eyes began again to fill,

  Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk, 55

  But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!

  Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,

  She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,

  Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame,

  With passionate twisting of her body there: 60

  “It chanced upon a day that Launcelot came

  To dwell at Arthur’s court: at Christmastime

  This happened; when the heralds sung his name,

  “Son of King Ban of Benwick, seemed to chime

  Along with all the bells that rang that day, 65

  O’er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.

  “Christmas and whitened winter passed away,

  And over me the April sunshine came,

  Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea

  “And in the Summer I grew white with flame, 70

  And bowed my head down: Autumn, and the sick

  Sure knowledge things would never be the same,

  “However often Spring might be most thick

  Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew

  Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick, 75

  “To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through

  My eager body; while I laughed out loud,

  And let my lips curl up at false or true,

  “Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud.

  Behold, my judges, then the cloths were brought; 80

  While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd

  “Belonging to the time ere I was bought

  By Arthur’s great name and his little love;

  Must I give up for ever then, I thought,

  “That which I deemed would ever round me move, 85

  Glorifying all things; for a little word,

  Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove

  “Stone-cold for ever? Pray you, does the Lord

  Will that all folks should be quite happy and good?

  I love God now a little, if this cord 90

  “Were broken, once for all what striving could

  Make me love anything in earth or heaven?

  So day by day it grew, as if one should

  “Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even,

  Down to a cool sea on a summer day; 95

  Yet still in slipping there was some small leaven

  “Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way,

  Until one surely reached the sea at last,

  And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay

  “Back, with the hair like sea-weed; yea all past 100

  Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips,

  Washed utterly out by the dear waves o’ercast,

  “In the lone sea, far off from any ships!

  Do I not know now of a day in Spring?

  No minute of that wild day ever slip 105

  “From out my memory; I hear thrushes sing,

  And wheresoever I may be, straightway

  Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting:

  “I was half mad with beauty on that day,

  And went without my ladies all alone, 110

  In a quiet gard
en walled round every way;

  “I was right joyful of that wall of stone,

  That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky,

  And trebled all the beauty: to the bone,

  “Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy 115

  With wary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad;

  Exceedingly glad, and I knew verily,

  “A little thing just then had made me mad;

  I dared not think, as I was wont to do,

  Sometimes, upon my beauty; If I had 120

  “Held out my long hand up against the blue,

  And, looking on the tenderly darken’d fingers,

  Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,

  “There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers

  Round by the edges; what should I have done, 125

  If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,

  “And startling green drawn upward by the sun?

  But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair,

  And trancedly stood watching the west wind run

  “With faintest half-heard breathing sound: why there 130

  I lose my head e’en now in doing this;

  But shortly listen: In that garden fair

  “Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss

  Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day,

  I scarce dare talk of the remember’d bliss, 135

  “When both our mouths went wandering in one way,

  And aching sorely, met among the leaves;

  Our hands being left behind strained far away.

  “Never within a yard of my bright sleeves

  Had Launcelot come before: and now so nigh! 140

  After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?

  “Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,

  Whatever happened on through all those years,

  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.

  “Being such a lady could I weep these tears 145

  If this were true? A great queen such as I

  Having sinn’d this way, straight her conscience sears;

  “And afterwards she liveth hatefully,

  Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps:

  Gauwaine be friends now, speak me lovingly, 150

  “Do I not see how God’s dear pity creeps

  All through your frame, and trembles in your mouth?

  Remember in what grave your mother sleeps,

  “Buried in some place far down in the south

  Men are forgetting as I speak to you; 155

  By her head sever’d in that awful drouth

  “Of pity that drew Agravaine’s fell blow,

  I pray your pity! let me not scream out

  For ever after, when the shrill winds blow

  “Through half your castle-locks! let me not shout 160

  For ever after in the winter night

  When you ride out alone! in battle-rout

  “Let not my rusting tears make your sword light!

  Ah! God of mercy, how he turns away!

  So, ever must I dress me to the fight, 165

  “So: let God’s justice work! Gauwaine, I say,

  See me hew down your proofs: yea all men know

  Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day,

  “One bitter day in la Fausse Garde, for so

  All good knights held it after, saw: 170

  Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage; though

  “You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw.

  . . . . . . .

  Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end

  “This very day, and you were judges here 175

  Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce

  When Launcelot stood by him? what white fear

  “Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance,

  His side sink in? as my knight cried and said:

  ‘Slayer of unarm’d men, here is a chance! 180

  “‘Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head,

  By God I am so glad to fight with you,

  Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead

  “‘For driving weight; hurrah now! draw and do,

  For all my wounds are moving in my breast, 185

  And I am getting mad with waiting so.’

  “He struck his hands together o’er the beast,

  Who fell down flat, and grovell’d at his feet,

  And groan’d at being slain so young: ‘At least,

  “My knight said, ‘Rise you, sir, who are so fleet 190

  At catching ladies, half-arm’d will I fight,

  My left side all uncovered!’ then I weet,

  “Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight

  Upon his knave’s face; not until just then

  Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight 195

  “Along the lists look to my stake and pen

  With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh

  From agony beneath my waist-chain, when

  “The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;

  Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right, 200

  And traversed warily, and ever high

  “And fast leapt caitiff’s sword, until my knight

  Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,

  Caught it and swung it; that was all the fight;

  “Except a spout of blood on the hot land, 205

  For it was hottest summer; and I know

  I wonder’d how the fire, while I should stand,

  “And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,

  Yards above my head; thus these matters went,

  Which things were only warnings of the woe 210

  “That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,

  For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;

  Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent

  “With all his wickedness; say no rash word

  Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes 215

  Wept all away to gray, may bring some sword

  “To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise

  Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;

  And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,

  “Yea also at my full heart’s strong command, 220

  See through my long throat how the words go up

  In ripples to my mouth; how in my hand

  “The shadow lies like wine within a cup

  Of marvellously color’d gold; yea now

  This little wind is rising, look you up, 225

  “And wonder how the light is falling so

  Within my moving tresses: will you dare

  When you have looked a little on my brow,

  “To say this thing is vile? or will you care

  For any plausible lies of cunning woof, 230

  Where you can see my face with no lie there

  “For ever? am I not a gracious proof? —

  ‘But in your chamber Launcelot was found’ —

  Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,

  “When a queen says with gentle queenly sound: 235

  ‘O true as steel, come now and talk with me,

  I love to see your step upon the ground

  “‘Unwavering, also well I love to see

  That gracious smile light up your face, and hear

  Your wonderful words, that all mean verily 240

  “‘The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear

  To me in everything, come here to-night,

  Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;

  “‘If you come not, I fear this time I might

  Get thinking over much of times gone by, 245

  When I was young, and green hope was in sight:

  “‘For no man cares now to know why I sigh;

  And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs,

  Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie

  “‘So
thick in the gardens; therefore one so longs 250

  To see you, Launcelot; that we may be

  Like children once again, free from all wrongs

  “‘Just for one night.’ Did he not come to me?

  What thing could keep true Launcelot away

  If I said, ‘Come?’ there was one less than three 255

  “In my quiet room that night, and we were gay;

  Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick,

  Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea

  “I looked at Launcelot’s face and could not speak,

  For he looked helpless too, for a little while; 260

  Then I remember how I tried to shriek,

  “And could not, but fell down; from tile to tile

  The stones they threw up rattled o’er my head

  And made me dizzier; till within a while

  “My maids were all about me, and my head 265

  On Launcelot’s breast was being soothed away

  From its white chattering, until Launcelot said:…

  “By God! I will not tell you more to-day,

  Judge any way you will: what matters it?

  You know quite well the story of that fray, 270

  “How Launcelot still’d their bawling, the mad fit

 

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