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Read Ebook: The Tempers by Williams William Carlos
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Ebook has 102 lines and 6887 words, and 3 pages
PAGE
Peace on Earth 7
Postlude 8
First Praise 9
Homage 10
The Fool's Song 11
From "The Birth of Venus," Song 12
Immortal 13
Mezzo Forte 14
An After Song 15
Crude Lament 16
The Ordeal 17
The Death of Franco of Cologne: His Prophecy of Beethoven 18
Portent 21
Con Brio 22
Ad Infinitum 23
Translations from the Spanish, "El Romancero" 24
Hic Jacet 30
Contemporania 31
To wish Myself Courage 32
Peace on Earth
The Archer is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven-- Sleep safe till to-morrow.
The Bears are abroad! The Eagle is screaming! Gold against blue Their eyes are gleaming! Sleep! Sleep safe till to-morrow.
The Sisters lie With their arms intertwining; Gold against blue Their hair is shining! The Serpent writhes! Orion is listening! Gold against blue His sword is glistening! Sleep! There is hunting in heaven-- Sleep safe till to-morrow.
Postlude
Now that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished masonry, Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances, Ripples at Philae, in and out, And lips, my Lesbian, Wall flowers that once were flame.
Your hair is my Carthage And my arms the bow, And our words arrows To shoot the stars Who from that misty sea Swarm to destroy us.
But you there beside me-- Oh how shall I defy you, Who wound me in the night With breasts shining Like Venus and like Mars? The night that is shouting Jason When the loud eaves rattle As with waves above me Blue at the prow of my desire.
First Praise
Lady of dusk wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp splintering leaf-tread with thee on before, White, slender through green saplings; I have lain by thee on the grey forest floor Beside thee, my Lady.
Lady of rivers strewn with stones, Only thou art my Lady. Where thousand the freshets are crowded like peasants to a fair; Clear skinned, wild from seclusion, They jostle white armed down the tent-bordered thoroughfare Praising my Lady.
Homage
Elvira, by love's grace There goeth before you A clear radiance Which maketh all vain souls Candles when noon is.
The loud clangour of pretenders Melteth before you Like the roll of carts passing, But you come silently And homage is given.
Now the little by-path Which leadeth to love Is again joyful with its many; And the great highway From love Is without passers.
The Fool's Song
I tried to put a bird in a cage. O fool that I am! For the bird was Truth. Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put Truth in a cage!
And when I had the bird in the cage, O fool that I am! Why, it broke my pretty cage. Sing merrily, Truth; I tried to put Truth in a cage!
And when the bird was flown from the cage, O fool that I am! Why, I had nor bird nor cage. Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put Truth in a cage! Heigh-ho! Truth in a cage.
From "The Birth of Venus," Song
Come with us and play! See, we have breasts as women! From your tents by the sea Come play with us: it is forbidden!
Come with us and play! See, we are tall as women! Our eyes are keen: Our hair is bright: Our voices speak outright: We revel in the sea's green! Come play: It is forbidden!
Immortal
Yes, there is one thing braver than all flowers; Richer than clear gems; wider than the sky; Immortal and unchangeable; whose powers Transcend reason, love and sanity!
And thou, beloved, art that godly thing! Marvellous and terrible; in glance An injured Juno roused against Heaven's King! And thy name, lovely One, is Ignorance.
Mezzo Forte
Take that, damn you; and that! And here's a rose To make it right again! God knows I'm sorry, Grace; but then, It's not my fault if you will be a cat.
An After Song
So art thou broken in upon me, Apollo, Through a splendour of purple garments-- Held by the yellow-haired Clym?ne To clothe the white of thy shoulders-- Bare from the day's leaping of horses. This is strange to me, here in the modern twilight.
Crude Lament
Mother of flames, The men that went ahunting Are asleep in the snow drifts. You have kept the fire burning! Crooked fingers that pull Fuel from among the wet leaves, Mother of flames You have kept the fire burning! The young wives have fallen asleep With wet hair, weeping, Mother of flames! The young men raised the heavy spears And are gone prowling in the darkness. O mother of flames, You who have kept the fire burning! Lo, I am helpless! Would God they had taken me with them!
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