[BNP/E3, 31A – 40]

10-XI-1916.

Songs for Panthea. 

  Lilies cast and roses throw

✓ In the way where[1] she must go,

  Whom the singing[2] planets hymn,

  Sister of the seraphim!

  Shifting motes of early sun

✓ In the morning freshness spun

  To light dresses for the breeze -

  Clothe her coming such as these!

  Shadows purple, fountain breths,

✓ Low mists such as dawning wreathes

  Round the tree‑tops - these be made

  Hers, for whom spring's feast is laid!

  She to us from heaven descended

✓ That dreams might with earth seem blended,

  And unquietness more blest

  Mingle with our life's unrest.

  These the chosen offerings

  From what earthly gladness sings -

  These to her we daily bear

  Lest she pine for heaven here.

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  não vale a pena passar

  With yet unuplifted wings

  Morn sings in her plae grey caves

  And the soft songs that she sings

  Mingle with the mingling waves,

  Singing Mortal things are fair

  Because they immortal are.

  Soon shall Phoebus seen darts pass

  Earliest past her cave tell

  Now her song that idly was

  Weaving some low’s {…} spell

  She must leave her to up

  Lest Appolo our † stop.

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  Now her songs she leaves and caves,

  All because she sang of love.

  Now her locks the pale dew leaves.

  Though she sing not and[3] but move

  Yet her coming flushed and strong

  Is continuance of her song. 

[40v]

Singing happy, singing low

With eyes glad and saddened brow

That though all things pass and go,

(That though all things seem to go)

Yet Time’s only truth is Now.

And on this bark

Forgetting float

Carelessly down

The restless Present,

Shadowy river

Between two banks –

The past and dreams.

 
[1] where /that\
[2] singing /(quiring)\
[3] and /now\