Collected Poems

Collected Poems Read Free

Book: Collected Poems Read Free
Author: William Alexander Percy
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divine,
                             Loving these two.
                             It was the hour of fleeing stars —
                   If I should live to see a million dawns,
    Each magic with a strange perfection of its own,
                   The memory of none could stir as that
        The pool of tears and longing here within.
                                            The hour of fleeing stars —
                   And I, too, fled into the stillness,
                   Up from the quiet village to the hills
                   Where walk the morning-mooded gods.
                                            A dawn of dew and hyacinths,
                   With grey-eyed, silver-footed April loose
    Upon the hills. The arching air — the last few stars —
                   Each little leaf, tho’ hushed, a-tremble to
                   The throbbing up of azure-hearted spring.
                   The upper meadows I had gained,
                             When on the eager silence came a sound,
                             A sleepy sound of many little feet.
                             Above the road I drew me up, and watched
                   The flock drift by. They passed, a huddled herd,
                             Shyly, and after them, with loitering foot
                   And bent, dark-curling head, the shepherd lad. —
        Down, down, O heart of mine! — I feared to breathe
                   Lest breathing wake me from a dear enchantment;
                   I dared not move, lest moving stir the spell …
                             So leaned above the roadside — gazing —
                             Drinking the poison of his loveliness.
                   For he was lovelier than the youthful day;
        More beautiful than silver, naked Ganymede!
        Slowly he came beneath me on the road —
                                            And suddenly I heard
        The tremulous, soft magic give me speech.
        “Shepherd, thy name!” He raised his head;
    The wonder of his mouth and eyes and carven throat
                   Flooded me. And he smiled. So full
    Of sweetness were those eyes, those curving lips,
        A music as of tears swept through my veins;
                   And when his voice rose, answering,
                   As cool, unhurt, and clear it was
                   As is the bird-souled break of day.
    “Phaon,” he said, and, smiling still, passed on. —
        Thus, Zeus, at dawn, seeking as was my wont,
                             The viewless god’s companionship,
    Phaon I met, himself in curve and color godlike,
                             And, meeting him, lost Thee!
        When shining day aroused the earth and me,
    I turned me from that roadside home, full-fledged
                   In Aphrodite. Not the gales of spring
    Dashing the tenuous, frayed clouds high up the sky,
        Were plumed with wilder rapture than my heart!
                   Nor was the earth’s red longing for fruition
                             More hot than mine for Phaon …
                   Oh, I had loved the colors of the world,
                   All lofty things, all daring enterprise,
                   The glint and foam of life’s adventuring!
                   That hour changed all the world and

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