Selections from the Charnel Rose : A Symphony

By Aiken, Conrad

Description
Poetry

Excerpt
Excerpt: I. Part 1 // She rose in moonlight, and stood, confronting sea, // With her bare arms uplifted, // And lifted her voice in the silence foolishly: // And her face was small, and her voice was small. // 'O moon!' she cried, 'I think how you must tire // Forever circling earth, so silently; // Earth, who is dark and makes you no reply.' // She only heard the little waves rush and fall; // And saw the moon go quietly down the sky. // Like a white figurehead in the seafaring wind, // She stood in the moonlight, // And heard her voice cry, ghostly and thinned, // Over the seethe of foam, // Saying, 'O numberless waters, I think it strange // How you can always shadow her face, and change // And yet never weary of her, having no ease.' // But the sea said nothing, no word at all: // Unquietly, as in sleep, she saw it rise and fall; // And the moon spread a net of silver over the foam. // She lifted her hands and let them fall again, // Impatient of the silence. And in despair, // Hopeless of final answer against her pain, // She said, to the stealthy air, // 'O air, far traveller, who from the stars are blown, // Float pollen of suns, you are an unseen sea // Lifting and bearing the words, eternally. // O air, do you not weary of your task?' // - She stood in the silence, frightened and alone, // And heard her syllables ask and ask. // And then, as she walked in the moonlight, so alone, // Lost and small in a soulless sea, // Hearing no voice make answer to her own, // From that infinity, - // Suddenly she was aware of a low whisper, // A dreadful heartless sound; and she stood still, - // There in the beach grass, on a sandy hill, - // And heard the stars, making a ghostly whisper; // And the soulless whisper of sun and moon and tree; // And the sea, rising and falling with a blind moan. // And as she faded into the night, // A glimmer of white, // With her arms uplifted and her face bowed down; // Sinking, again, into the sleep of sands, // The sea-sands white and brown; // Or among the sea-grass rustling as one more blade, // Pushing before her face her cinquefoil hands; // Or sliding, stealthy as foam, into the sea, // With a slow seethe and whisper: // Too late to find her, yet not too late to see, // Came he, who sought forever unsatisfied, // And saw her enter and shut the darkness, // Desired and swift, // And caught at the rays of the moon, yet found but darkness, // Caught at the flash of his feet, to fill his hands // With the sleepy pour of sands. // 'O moon!' he said: 'was it you I followed? // You, who put silver madness into my eyes? -' // But he only heard, in the dark, a stifled laughter, // And the rattle of dead leaves blowing. // 'O wind! -' he said - 'was it you I followed? // Your hand I felt against my face? -' // But he only heard, in the dark, a stifled laughter, // And shadows crept past him. with furtive pace, // Breathing night upon him; and one by one // The ghosts of leaves flew past him, seeking the sun. // And a silent star slipped golden down the darkness, // Down the great wall, leaving no trace in the sky, // And years went with it, and worlds. And he dreamed still // Of a fleeter shadow among the shadows running, // Foam into foam, without a gesture or cry, // Leaving him there, alone, on a lonely hill. // I. Part 2 // Evening: in the twilight town // One by one the stars stepped down, // Each to assume his destined place: // And there he saw the destined face. // Her eyes were void, here eyes were deep: // She came like one who moved in sleep: // And when she looked across the night // Beneath, among, those points of light, // Into his heart she shot a pang, // As if a voice within him sang, // Sang and was silent. Down the street, // And lost in darkness, fled the feet; // Ambiguous, the street-lamp's gleam // Mocked at her eyes, and then the dream // 2 // From shuttered window, shadowed hall, // Chuckled beyond a lampless wall. // Among the crowding lights he went, // Where faces massed like lillies blent, // And this time plucked and made his own // Above snarled music's undertone: // Breathing the perfume of her hair, // He touched her arm, but suddenly there // As in a dance of shadows fleeing // (His eyes were shut for fear of seeing) // He watched red roses dropt apart // Each to disclose a charnel heart. // Ghostly with powder in the night, // Her hand upon his arm was white: // Her gown was light, and lightly blew, // A gauze of flame it burned him through. // Under the singing lamp she stood, // And smiled in subtly fugitive mood, // From depth to depth of wingless skies // Withdrawing batlike down her eyes: // And in his heart an echo came // Of quick dust quaking under flame. // Pale walls enclosed them.One light shed // A yellow flicker across the bed. // Loud steps rang through the street, and then // The hush of night grew deep again. // Two shadows on the wall made one - // What human walls were here flung down, // The light extinguished as in pain, // The weak light dying in the brain? // Green leaves pushed up through yielding air // Greedy for life she loosed her hair // With conscious and indifferent hands. // ...High on his cliff, above hard sands, // He saw the moonlit ocean come // In ever-inward rings of foam, // Heard them break to shoot and seethe // Ever inward far beneath: // The ringed horizon rhythmic coming // And in the moonlight silent foaming: // But the dream changed: thick minutes dripped: // Between his fingers a fleet light slipped: // Was gone, was lost: // And on the sand, or in his brain, // He saw red roses fall again: // Rose-wreathed skeletons advanced // And clumsily lifted foot and danced: // And he saw the roses drop apart // Each to disclose a charnel heart. // Whose were these loathed and empty eyes? // 3 // Who, falling, in these wingless skies? // This was not she: he rose, withdrew: // One shadow on the wall made two, // The human walls stood up again: // Far in the night, or in his brain, // He heard her whisper, felt her pass, // Shadow of spirit over glass. // I. Part 3 // And a silent star slipped golden down the darkness, // Taking his life with it, like a little cloud // Consumed in fire and speed, diffused in darkness: // Tangled and caught together, the days, the years, // His voice, his lifted hands, // Were ravelled and sped; where, by the sea, he bowed // And dreamed of the foam that crept back into the sea, // And the wandering leaves that crept back into the tree. // I. Part 4 // Roses, he thought, were kin to her, // Pure text of dust; and learning these // He might more surely win to her, // Speak her own tongue to pledge and please. // What vernal kinship, then, was this // That spoke and perished in a breath? // In leaves, she was near enough to kiss, // And yet, impalpable as death. // Spading dark earth, he tore apart // Exquisite roots: she fled from him. // Her stigma, in the crocus heart, // Probed for delicately, would swim // Lazily faint away on air, // Not to be caught or held: she fled // Before him, wavering, everywhere, // A summer's secret behind he shed. // Music? He found it under earth, // Quick veins of fire: he heard her sing. // Upward it broke, a springing mirth, // A fugitive and amazing thing, // It flashed before his crazy feet, // He danced upon it, it would not stay, // His hands against its brightness beat, // But still it broke in light away. // O bird - he cried - if bird you are, // Keep still those frantic wings a while!... // Thus dancing for the evening star, // In hope to capture it by guile. // I. Part 5 // The moon rose, and the moon set; // And the stars rushed up and whirled and set; // And again they swarmed, after a shaft of sunlight; // And the dark blue dusk closed above him, like an ocean of regret. // 4 // White trident fires were lit on the tops of towers; // Monstrous and black the towers broke the sky. // The ghostly fountain shot and tumbled in showers; // Gaunt leaves turned down above it, thirstily. // The gold fish, and the fish with fins of silver, // Quivered in lamplight, rose with sinister eye, // And darted into the darkness, silently. // The faces that looked at him were his own faces, // They streamed along the streets, they licked like fire, // Flowed with undulant paces, // Reflected in the darkness stared at him, // Contemplative, despairing, // Swept silently aside, becoming dim, // With a vague impotent gesture at the sky, // Uncontrolled and little caring; // And he watched them with an introspective eye. // To shape this world of leaderless ghostly passions - // Or else be mobbed by it - there was the question: // Green leaves above him whispered the slow question, // Black ripples on the pool chuckled of passions. // And between the uneasy shoulders of two trees, // Huge, against impalpable gust of blue, // A golden star slid down to leafy seas, // A star he somehow knew. // Youths tripped after him, laughing, but he fled them: // He heard them mock him, in affected tones. // Their lamia mouthes, so smiling, bade him fear them. // His own face leered at him, with timid lust, // Was overwhelmed in night. // He turned aside, and walked in graveyard dust, - // In the dew-dabbled, clinging dust, - // And terror seized him, seeing the stones so white; // And the wet grass, frozen and motionless in the moonlight; // And the green-tongued moonlight, crawling in thick dust. // Was it murky vapor, here, that dulled the stars? - // Or his own guilty breath that clouded heaven? - // Pale hands struck down with spades. // And it was he, with dew upon his face, // Who dug the foul earth in that dripping place, // Turning his back on heaven. // And it was he who found the desired dead; // And kissed the languid head; // While shadows frisked about him in moonlight, // Whirled and capered and leapt, // Caught each other and mimicked lust in the moonlight, // In the dew-wet dust, above the dead who slept. // But this - was it this he rose from and desired? // Black mould of leaves clung wetly about his feet. // He was lost, and alone, and tired, // A mist curled round him coldly, touched his face, // 5 // Shadows with eyes were gathering in that place; // And he dreamed of a lamplit street. // But roses fell through the darkness, // They writhed before him out of the mould, // Opened their hearts to pour out darkness, // Darkness of flesh, of lust grown old. // He struggled against them, beat, // Broke them with hands to feel the blood flow warm, // Reeled, when they opened their hearts, // Feeling them with their eyes closed push and swarm, // Thronging about his throat, pressing his mouth, // Beating his temples, choking his breath... // Help, you stars! - wet darkness showered upon him. // He was dissolved in a deep cold dream of death. // White fires were lit upon the tops of towers, // The towers shouldered the sky: // The ghostly fountain shot and tumbled in showers, // Gaunt leaves leaned down above it, thirstily. // And he looked with laughter upon the lamplit ripples // Each with its little image of the light, // And thought the minds of men were like black ripples, // Ripples of darkness, darkly huddled in night, // Each of them with its image of lamp or star, // Thinking itself the star. // And it seemed to him, as he looked upon them, laughing, // That he was the star they all in light reflected. // He was the god who had been rejected, // Stoned and trampled upon a filthy street, // Hung up in lamplight for young men to beat, // Cursed and spat upon; and all for saying // There was no life save life of fast and praying. // Or had he been a beggar, with bare feet? // Or a cruel ascetic, trampling roses down?... // Roses are death! he cried. He turned in hatred, // And saw red fires burst up above the town; // And a swarm of faces rising, green with hatred. // And silence descended, on dripping trees: // And dew-spats slowly spat from leaves to stones. // He had walked these gardens, he thought, before. // The fountain chuckled; // The leaves rustled, in whispers, along a shore. // And the moon rose, and the moon set; // And the stars rushed up, and swarmed, and set; // And again they swarmed, after a shaft of sunlight; // And the blue dusk closed above him, like an ocean of regret. // II. Part 1 // And at times it seemed, // Walking with her of whom he subtly dreamed, // That her young body was ringed with flame, // Hover of fire, // 6 // And that she went and came, // Impalpable fiery blossom of desire, // Into his heart and out of his heart again, // With every breath, and every breath was pain. // And if he touched her hand, she drew away, // Becoming something vast; and stretched her hair // Suddenly, like black rain, across the sun. // Till he grew fearful, seeing her there, // To think that he loved such a one, // Who rose against the sky to shut out day. // But at times it seemed, // Walking with her of whom he subtly dreamed, // (Music beneath the sea) // That she was texture of earth no less than he; // Among the leaves her face // Gleamed with familiar grace; // And walking slowly through old gardens, // Among the cool blue cedars, // Spreading her hands in the silent dazzle of sunlight, // Her voice and the air were sweetly married; // Her laughter trembled like music out of the earth; // her body was like the cool blue cedars, // Fragrant in sunlight. // And he quivered, to think that he was the blade, in sunlight, // To flash, and strip these boughs, and spill their fragrance. // Wind hurried the last year's leaves, their shadows hurried, // And clouds blew down the sky. // Where would they be with a year gone by? // Let us be quick: there is time to overcome: // The earth grows old, the moon is already dead, // But you are young, you tremble because you love me, // It is all we have. Let nothing more be said. // What do we care for a star that floats down heaven, // That fiery tear of time? // It spoke to us once, it will not speak again, // It will be no more remembered than last year's rain; // There will be other dusks for us to walk through, // And other stars will float down heaven. // Time is undone: Between our hands it slips, // Goes out between us, the breath upon our lips. // Do not look over your shoulder to see it falling! // Shadows gather and brood, under the trees. // The world grows silent, it listens to hear us walking; // Let the star perish: we wander as we please. // Or is the earth beneath us an old star falling, // Falling through twilight to leafy seas? // The night grows damp: I will take your arm. // Follow the lanterns, lest we come to harm. // IV. Part 6 // Twilight: a cold green sky. // 7 // Low massed clouds, with dazzling sinister edges, // And a sea gull, falling in high pale sunlight. // Dusk, - the encroachment of poisonous shadows, // The leisurely lighting of lamps; // And a gradual silence of restless trees. // Mist of twilight in my heart: // I who was always catching at fire. // Mould of black leaves under my feet; // I, whose star was desire. // Earth spins in her shadow. // Let us turn and go back // To the first of out loves - // The one who was moonlight and the fall of white roses! // We are struck down, we hear no music. // The moisture of night is in our hands. // Time takes us. We are eternal. // Conrad Aiken...