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James Elroy Flecker

Pavlovna in London

I listened to the hunger-hearted clown,
    Sadder than he: I heard a woman sing, -
A tall dark woman in a scarlet gown -
    And saw those golden toys the jugglers fling.
I found a tawdry room and there sat I,
    There angled for each murmur soft and strange,
        The pavement-cries from darkness and below:
I watched the drinkers laugh, the lovers sigh,
    And thought how little all the world would change
        If clowns were audience, and we the Show.

What starry music are they playing now?
    What dancing in this dreary theatre?
Who is she with the moon upon her brow,
    And who the fire-foot god that follows her? -
Follows among those unbelieved-in trees
    Back-shadowing in their parody of light
        Across the little cardboard balustrade;
And we, like that poor Faun who pipes and flees,
    Adore their beauty, hate it for too bright,
     And tremble, half in rapture, half afraid.

Play on, O furtive and heartbroken Faun!
    What is your thin dull pipe for such as they?
I know you blinded by the least white dawn,
    And dare you face their quick and quivering Day?
Dare you, like us, weak but undaunted men,
    Reliant on some deathless spark in you
        Turn your dull eyes to what the gods desire,
Touch the light finger of your goddess; then
    After a second's flash of gold and blue,
        Drunken with that divinity, expire?

O dance, Diana, dance, Endymion,
    Till calm ancestral shadows lay their hands
Gently across mine eyes: in days long gone
    Have I not danced with gods in garden lands?
I too a wild unsighted atom borne
    Deep in the heart of some heroic boy
        Span in the dance ten thousand years ago,
And while his young eyes glittered in the morn
    Something of me felt something of his joy,
        And longed to rule a body, and to know.

Singer long dead and sweeter-lipped than I,
    In whose proud line the soul-dark phrases burn,
Would you could praise their passionate symmetry,
    Who loved the colder shapes, the Attic urn.
But your far song, my faint one, what are they,
    And what their dance and faery thoughts and ours,
        Or night abloom with splendid stars and pale?
'Tis an old story that sweet flowers decay,
    And dreams, the noblest, die as soon as flowers,
        And dancers, all the world of them, must fail.

 
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About the poet
James Elroy Flecker
 
By the same poet
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Riouperoux
The Town without a Market
The Ballad of Camden Town
Mignon
Felo de se
Tenebris Interlucentem
Invitation to a young but learned friend...
Ballad of the Londoner
The First Sonnet of Bathrolaire
The Second Sonnet of Bathrolaire
The Masque of the Magi
The Ballad of Hampstead Heath
Litany to Satan
The Translator and the Children
Opportunity
Destroyer of Ships, Men, Cities
War Song of the Saracens
Joseph and Mary
No Coward's Song
A Western Voyage
Fountains
The Welsh Sea
Oxford Canal
Hialmar speaks to the Raven
The Ballad of the Student in the South
The Queen's song
Lord Arnaldos
We that were friends
My Friend
Ideal
Mary Magdalen
I rose from dreamless hours
Prayer
A Miracle of Bethlehem
Gravis Dulcis Immutabilis
Pillage
The Ballad of Zacho
The Sentimentalist
Don Juan in Hell
The Ballad of Iskander
 
Related books
James Elroy Flecker at amazon.com


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