Goblins and Pagodas

by John Gould Fletcher

Excerpt: ... tugs in the stream; Against the flame-chariots Of the Embankment; Against the bowing trees, Against the blowing smoke, Against the busy rain. With dying might The light invades The city's hall: Curtained by dripping fringes Of buoyant tattered cloud, Tossed by the wind. It is the last night that I can be solitary; And all my city of dreams is burning up to-night. But yet there waits for me something lost back in the darkness: Something I have never seized: a shape, a voice, a gesture, Something behind my ... Read More

Excerpt: ... tugs in the stream; Against the flame-chariots Of the Embankment; Against the bowing trees, Against the blowing smoke, Against the busy rain. With dying might The light invades The city's hall: Curtained by dripping fringes Of buoyant tattered cloud, Tossed by the wind. It is the last night that I can be solitary; And all my city of dreams is burning up to-night. But yet there waits for me something lost back in the darkness: Something I have never seized: a shape, a voice, a gesture, Something behind my shoulder: grey robes that stir and rustle. Something that moves away from me when I would touch it with my hand. Cities of the beyond, what great black-walled horizons Dare you climb up, and down what steep incredible valleys? I suddenly perceive that I have been mocked in you, And therefore will I sow the earth with rain of stars to-night. It is the last night that I can be solitary; The rain invites to drunkenness: the wind blows through my brain. Shiplike the sliding golden trams Procession by and intercross: With tulips, daffodils, crocuses The whole street blossoms at my feet: Now kindle, flames, and let blow out The crimson rose against the grey, Let night itself be blotted out In life's monotonous drone of day. It is the last night that I can be solitary: It is the last time that no feet But mine can beat upon the floor; It is the last time that no hands But mine can pound upon my heart; It is the last time that no voice But mine can cry and yet be lost; It is the last time I shall see The pavements like a mirror stare at me. GREEN SYMPHONY I The glittering leaves of the rhododendrons Balance and vibrate in the cool air; While in the sky above them White clouds chase each other. Like scampering rabbits, Flashes of sunlight sweep the lawn; They fling in passing Patterns of shadow, Golden and green. With long cascades of laughter, The mating birds dart and swoop to the turf: 'Mid their mad trillings Glints the gay sun behind the trees. Down... Read Less