We must weep and sing Duty's conscious wrong, The Devil in the clock, The goodness carefully worn For atonement or for luck; We must lose our loves, On each beast and bird that moves Turn an envious look. Sighs for folly done and said Twist our narrow days, But I must bless, I must praise That you, my swan, who have All gifts that to the swan Impulsive Nature gave, The majesty and pride, Last night should add Your voluntary love.
1936
Autumn Song
Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse's flowers will not last; Nurses to the graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on. Whispering neighbours, left and right, Pluck us from the real delight; And the active hands must freeze Lonely on the separate knees. Dead in hundreds at the back Follow wooden in our track, Arms raised stiffly to reprove In false attitudes of love. Starving through the leafless wood Trolls run scolding for their food; And the nightingale is dumb, And the angel will not come. Cold, impossible, ahead Lifts the mountain's lovely head Whose white waterfall could bless Travellers in their last distress.
1936
Death's Echo
'O who can ever gaze his fill,' Farmer and fisherman say, 'On native shore and local hill, Grudge aching limb or callus on the hand? Father, grandfather stood upon this land, And here the pilgrims from our loins will stand.' So farmer and fisherman say In their fortunate hey-day: But Death's low answer drifts across Empty catch or harvest loss Or an unlucky May. The earth is an oyster with nothing inside it, Not to be born is the best for man; The end of toil is a bailiff's order, Throw down the mattock and dance while you can. 'O life's too short for friends who share,' Travellers think in their hearts, 'The city's common bed, the air, The mountain bivouac and the bathing beach, Where incidents draw every day from each Memorable gesture and witty speech.' So travellers think in their hearts, Till malice or circumstance parts Them from their constant humour: And slyly Death's coercive rumour In that moment starts.
