[BNP/E3, 31A – 29]

50

Horizon

em “The Mad Fiddler”

I

Unheard‑of fathoms in the deep sea,

     In cool caves deep

(The spoils of battle are not for thee)

     For ever sleep.

No upward vision or shining mount

     Awaits[1] thy pain.

The secret angel keepeth no count

     Of thy lost gain.

On the sphynx's mouth the tale is dead.

     The path grass-grown.

Our sorrow shall follow where thou hast led,

     Out of the Unknown.

Waitest thou hidden, or quiet rest

     What silence forbids?

Give us at least thy unobtained quest

     And the flowered meads.

5/X/1916.

The missing reason for having love

     Is quiet with these,

The secret vision, the shining grove

     And the final trees.

II

Already the sea is a whitening line

     Along my wish,

And the wind is coming shadowy and fine

     With its eerie reach

To touch my common despair and pain,

     My wonder and night,

The subtle sense of the coming rain

     And my lost delight.

 
[1] Awaits /(Rewards)\