a dome of many-coloured glass(多彩玻璃顶)

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A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

A Dome of Many-

Coloured Glass

by Amy Lowell

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

"Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance

of Eternity."

Shelley, "Adonais".

"Le silence est si grand que mon coeur en frissonne, Seul, le bruit de

mes pas sur le pave resonne."

Albert Samain.

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

Lyrical Poems

Before the Altar

Before the Altar, bowed, he stands With empty hands; Upon it

perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. Not one

of all these has he given, No flame of his has leapt to Heaven Firesouled,

vermilion-hearted, Forked, and darted, Consuming what a few spare pence

Have cheaply bought, to fling from hence In idly-asked petition.

His sole condition Love and poverty. And while the moon Swings

slow across the sky, Athwart a waving pine tree, And soon Tips all the

needles there With silver sparkles, bitterly He gazes, while his soul Grows

hard with thinking of the poorness of his dole.

"Shining and distant Goddess, hear my prayer Where you swim in the

high air! With charity look down on me, Under this tree, Tending the gifts

I have not brought, The rare and goodly things I have not sought. Instead,

take from me all my life!

"Upon the wings Of shimmering moonbeams I pack my poet's dreams

For you. My wearying strife, My courage, my loss, Into the night I toss

For you. Golden Divinity, Deign to look down on me Who so unworthily

Offers to you: All life has known, Seeds withered unsown, Hopes turning

quick to fears, Laughter which dies in tears. The shredded remnant of a

man Is all the span And compass of my offering to you.

"Empty and silent, I Kneel before your pure, calm majesty. On this

stone, in this urn I pour my heart and watch it burn, Myself the sacrifice;

but be Still unmoved: Divinity."

From the altar, bathed in moonlight, The smoke rose straight in the

quiet night.

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's

Poems

Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign To put upon the cover of this

book? Who heard thee singing in the distance dim, The vague, far

greenness of the enshrouding wood, When the damp freshness of the

morning earth Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song?

Who followed over moss and twisted roots, And pushed through the

wet leaves of trailing vines Where slanting sunbeams gleamed uncertainly,

While ever clearer came the dropping notes, Until, at last, two widening

trunks disclosed Thee singing on a spray of branching beech, Hidden, then

seen; and always that same song Of joyful sweetness, rapture incarnate,

Filled the hushed, rustling stillness of the wood?

We do not know what bird thou art. Perhaps That fairy bird, fabled in

island tale, Who never sings but once, and then his song Is of such fearful

beauty that he dies From sheer exuberance of melody.

For this they took thee, little bird, for this They captured thee, tilting

among the leaves, And stamped thee for a symbol on this book. For it

contains a song surpassing thine, Richer, more sweet, more poignant.

And the poet Who felt this burning beauty, and whose heart Was full of

loveliest things, sang all he knew A little while, and then he died; too frail

To bear this untamed, passionate burst of song.

Apples of Hesperides

Glinting golden through the trees, Apples of Hesperides! Through

the moon-pierced warp of night Shoot pale shafts of yellow light, Swaying

to the kissing breeze Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming, Apples of

Hesperides!

Far and lofty yet they glimmer, Apples of Hesperides! Blinded by

their radiant shimmer, Pushing forward just for these; Dew-besprinkled,

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

bramble-marred, Poor duped mortal, travel-scarred, Always thinking soon

to seize And possess the golden-glistening Apples of Hesperides!

Orbed, and glittering, and pendent, Apples of Hesperides! Not one

missing, still transcendent, Clustering like a swarm of bees. Yielding to no

man's desire, Glowing with a saffron fire, Splendid, unassailed, the golden

Apples of Hesperides!

Azure and Gold

April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The

sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the mountain beds.

Across a deep-sunken stream The pink of blossoming trees, And

from windless appleblooms The humming of many bees.

The air was of rose and gold Arabesqued with the song of birds Who,

swinging unseen under leaves, Made music more eager than words.

Of a sudden, aslant the road, A brightness to dazzle and stun, A glint

of the bluest blue, A flash from a sapphire sun.

Blue-birds so blue, 't was a dream, An impossible, unconceived hue,

The high sky of summer dropped down Some rapturous ocean to woo.

Such a colour, such infinite light! The heart of a fabulous gem,

Many-faceted, brilliant and rare. Centre Stone of the earth's

diadem! . . . . . Centre Stone of the Crown of the

World, "Sincerity" graved on your youth! And your eyes hold the blue-

bird flash, The sapphire shaft, which is truth.

Petals

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our

heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their

glad, early start.

Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall

know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone

Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The

flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

Venetian Glass

As one who sails upon a wide, blue sea Far out of sight of land, his

mind intent Upon the sailing of his little boat, On tightening ropes and

shaping fair his course, Hears suddenly, across the restless sea, The

rhythmic striking of some towered clock, And wakes from thoughtless

idleness to time: Time, the slow pulse which beats eternity! So through the

vacancy of busy life At intervals you cross my path and bring The deep

solemnity of passing years. For you I have shed bitter tears, for you I have

relinquished that for which my heart Cried out in selfish longing. And

to-night Having just left you, I can say: "'T is well. Thank God that I

have known a soul so true, So nobly just, so worthy to be loved!"

Fatigue

Stupefy my heart to every day's monotony, Seal up my eyes, I would

not look so far, Chasten my steps to peaceful regularity, Bow down my

head lest I behold a star.

Fill my days with work, a thousand calm necessities Leaving no

moment to consecrate to hope, Girdle my thoughts within the dull

circumferences Of facts which form the actual in one short hour's scope.

Give me dreamless sleep, and loose night's power over me, Shut my

ears to sounds only tumultuous then, Bid Fancy slumber, and steal away

its potency, Or Nature wakes and strives to live again.

Let each day pass, well ordered in its usefulness, Unlit by sunshine,

unscarred by storm; Dower me with strength and curb all foolish

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

eagerness -- The law exacts obedience. Instruct, I will conform.

A Japanese Wood-Carving

High up above the open, welcoming door It hangs, a piece of wood

with colours dim. Once, long ago, it was a waving tree And knew the sun

and shadow through the leaves Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood.

The winter snows had bent its branches down, The spring had swelled its

buds with coming flowers, Summer had run like fire through its veins,

While autumn pelted it with chestnut burrs, And strewed the leafy ground

with acorn cups. Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among Its

branches, breaking here and there a limb; But every now and then broad

sunlit days Lovingly lingered, caught among the leaves. Yes, it had known

all this, and yet to us It does not speak of mossy forest ways, Of

whispering pine trees or the shimmering birch; But of quick winds, and

the salt, stinging sea! An artist once, with patient, careful knife, Had

fashioned it like to the untamed sea. Here waves uprear themselves, their

tops blown back By the gay, sunny wind, which whips the blue And

breaks it into gleams and sparks of light. Among the flashing waves are

two white birds Which swoop, and soar, and scream for very joy At the

wild sport. Now diving quickly in, Questing some glistening fish. Now

flying up, Their dripping feathers shining in the sun, While the wet drops

like little glints of light, Fall pattering backward to the parent sea. Gliding

along the green and foam-flecked hollows, Or skimming some white crest

about to break, The spirits of the sky deigning to stoop And play with

ocean in a summer mood. Hanging above the high, wide open door, It

brings to us in quiet, firelit room, The freedom of the earth's vast solitudes,

Where heaping, sunny waves tumble and roll, And seabirds scream in

wanton happiness.

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

A Little Song

When you, my Dear, are away, away, How wearily goes the creeping

day. A year drags after morning, and night Starts another year of candle

light. O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon! Grant me, I beg of you, this

boon.

Whirl round the earth as never sun Has his diurnal journey run. And,

Moon, slip past the ladders of air In a single flash, while your streaming

hair Catches the stars and pulls them down To shine on some slumbering

Chinese town. O Kindly Sun! Understanding Moon! Bring evening to

crowd the footsteps of noon.

But when that long awaited day Hangs ripe in the heavens, your

voyaging stay. Be morning, O Sun! with the lark in song, Be afternoon for

ages long. And, Moon, let you and your lesser lights Watch over a century

of nights.

Behind a Wall

I own a solace shut within my heart, A garden full of many a quaint

delight And warm with drowsy, poppied sunshine; bright, Flaming with

lilies out of whose cups dart Shining things With powdered

wings.

Here terrace sinks to terrace, arbors close The ends of dreaming

paths; a wanton wind Jostles the half-ripe pears, and then, unkind,

Tumbles a-slumber in a pillar rose, With content Grown

indolent.

By night my garden is o'erhung with gems Fixed in an onyx setting.

Fireflies Flicker their lanterns in my dazzled eyes. In serried rows I

guess the straight, stiff stems Of hollyhocks Against the rocks.

So far and still it is that, listening, I hear the flowers talking in the

dawn; And where a sunken basin cuts the lawn, Cinctured with iris, pale

A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

and glistening, The sudden swish Of a waking fish.

A Winter Ride

Who shall declare the joy of the running! Who shall tell of the

pleasures of flight! Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,

Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of light. Everything

mortal has moments immortal, Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably

bright.

So with the stretch of the white road before me, Shining

snowcrystals rainbowed by the sun, Fields that are white, stained with

long, cool, blue shadows, Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.

Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight! Joy! With the vigorous

earth I am one.

A Coloured Print by Shokei

It winds along the face of a cliff This path which I long to explore,

And over it dashes a waterfall, And the air is full of the roar And the

thunderous voice of waters which sweep In a silver torrent over some

steep.

It clears the path with a mighty bound And tumbles below and away,

And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks Are wet with its

jewelled spray; The air is misty and heavy with sound, And small, wet

wildflowers star the ground.

Oh! The dampness is very good to smell, And the path is soft to

tread, And beyond the fall it winds up and on, While little streamlets

thread Their own meandering way down the hill Each singing its own little

song, until

I forget that 't is only a pictured path, And I hear the water and wind,

And look through the mist, and strain my eyes To see what there is

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ADomeofMany-ColouredGlass1ADomeofMany-ColouredGlassbyAmyLowellADomeofMany-ColouredGlass2"Life,likeadomeofmany-colouredglass,StainsthewhiteradianceofEternity."Shelley,"Adonais"."Lesilenceestsigrandquemoncoeurenfrissonne,Seul,lebruitdemespassurlepaveresonne."AlbertSamain.ADomeofMany-ColouredGlass3Lyri...

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a dome of many-coloured glass(多彩玻璃顶)

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