Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Holidays

Allen Upward

AS the tree puts forth its flowers,

Time at certain seasons dowers

Men with moments so delicious

They forget all former hours.

Magic hints that wake the mind

From the sleep that seals mankind—

Raptures, tumults, yearnings, visions,

Light that breaks upon the blind.

Charmed in circles of the sea,

Island of love’s mystery,

There are old, pathetic secrets

Only known to you and me.

Children of the summertide,

Free from care and wrath and pride,

We were happy while we wandered

Up and down the long sea-side.

Round the seagull’s rocky home

Azure waves through fretted foam

Glanced and glowed like lancet windows,

Sapphire in an ivory dome.

Far afield a rain of light

Washed the utmost sea-wave white;

Heaved and rolled in blinding splendor,

League on league of chrysolite.

Did we tread on beaten ground?

Were the waves that rocked us round

Lapping on some isle of wonder

Dropped within the coral sound?

Fainter than a cloud, the moon

Floated up the sky too soon:

Round us on the brooding valley

Slept the summer afternoon.

Every golden hour went by

Like a bead of tracery

Strung upon an Indian necklace

To enchant a sultan’s eye.

How the stars, that hallowed night,

Seemed to pulse with our delight,

Notes of some mysterious music

That we dared not read aright.

Every star that downward fell

Struck far off a mystic knell:

Then the whole wide heaven about us

Boomed to silence, like a bell.

Something softer in the air

Whispered to our hearts beware:

It was an enchanted region,

And we might not tarry there.

Long we sate and never spake,

Lest the light illusion break.

We had fallen asleep together,

And we could not bear to wake.

Never to that haunted shore

Bid me bend my voyage more.

Bitter thorns are left to harvest

Where we gathered blooms before.