Complete Works of Wilfred Owen Read online

  Pink, shimmering streams of light its windows shed,

  Like waterfalls of wine; and pink-white shells,

  Like Alpine snows, its lofty roof o’erspread;

  Which close and open, close and open wide,

  With every ebb and flowing of the tide.

  3

  Twice beauteous is the sight, for perfect pearls

  Glimmer between the valvelets as they gape.

  As when a butterfly shut wings unfurls,

  And pollen-filmèd globes of dew escape,

  So ope those shells, so shine those gems. The swirls

  Of stirring currents stroke to smoothest shape

  The sandy palace floors; or, like a breeze,

  Suddenly fluster its mysterious trees.

  4

  The ancient King, of consort long bereft,

  Unto his mother gave the queenly state;

  And in her careful governance he left

  His six fair daughters. Scarce could I relate

  The beauty of those six without a theft

  Of honey-words from some song-potentate;

  And of the youngest’s utter loveliness,

  I rest content to wake a wistful guess.

  5

  Her skin is delicate and freshly clear

  As petals of wild rose; and in her eyes,

  As in the stillness of an evening mere,

  All heaven’s purple concentrated lies.

  But lo! what marvel to mankind is here:

  She has no feet, no knees! but mermaid-wise,

  A fish’s tail, smooth-tapering from her waist,

  Blue-scaled, and glistering, like silver chased.

  6

  All day, these mermaids sported in their hall,

  Feeding the fish that through the windows shot,

  And training weeds to twine about the wall.

  Or sometimes each would tend her garden grot,

  Where one so ranged her plants as to recall

  Blunt-snouted whales; another planned her plot

  In shapes to imitate her own; and one,

  The youngest, choosing red flowers, made a sun.

  7

  A strange and lonely child seemed this Princess.

  Deep were the fathomings of her secret thought.

  Not that she shunned a sisterly caress;

  But, spoken to, faint-smiled, and answered naught.

  Loved she the silent deep? Nay, less and less

  She loved it! And as years new sameness brought,

  Its silence, its low stillness, its pale gloom,

  Weighed on her soul, and made sweet life a doom.

  8

  Her sisters joyed to find such curious things

  As foundering ships let fall to their domain;

  But she cared not for showered coins or rings,

  And claimed no share of all that precious rain

  Except a marble statue, - some boy-king’s,

  Or youthful hero’s. Its cold face in vain

  She gazed at, kissed, and tried with sighs to thaw,

  For still the wide eyes stared, and nothing saw.

  9

  Thereby she set a weeping-willow tree

  To droop and mourn. Full dolefully it clung

  About the form, and moved continually,

  As if it sighed; as if it sometimes wrung

  Convulsive fingers in sad reverie.

  And ever o’er the light blue sand it hung

  A purple shade, which hour by hour the same,

  Burnt softly on, like lambent sulphur flame.

  10

  Soon, for the twilight of that shadow’s ring,

  The girl forsook the fiery-blossomed grove

  And golden-fruited gardens of the King;

  Yet not e’en there her eyes reposed; but strove

  For glimpses of the sun’s far brightening.

  Her ear could bear no voice, unless it wove

  Tales of the upper world; its tuneful birds;

  Sweet-odoured blooms; warm meadows; placid herds.

  11

  Long time before these wonders might be seen

  By her, for it was now the year wherein

  The eldest sister counted years fifteen.

  (Now sea-folk hold it as unthinkable sin

  For girls to wander from their sire’s demesne

  Until a certain year of age they win.)

  Rose the first Princess to the waves at last,

  And there, in wonderment, a long night passed.

  12

  Returned, she told her sisters all; and said

  Naught was so fine as, from a sandy isle,

  To watch a city’s lights, white, green, and red,

  Pricking the dark for many a twinkling mile.

  She caught strange music, and, more strange, the tread

  Of crowded men. Then, from some campanile,

  Hummed the low voices of the midnight bells,

  And bugles fluted in far citadels.

  13

  A year went; and the second happy maid

  Broke the still surface of the evening sea.

  The sky was peerless gold; a slow parade

  Of violet clouds wheeled westward gorgeously.

  Above her, like a white and fluttering braid,

  The wild swans winged towards the sun. Then she

  Swam westward too; but swift the great ball sank,

  Leaving the air all colourless and dank.

  14

  The third Princess was bold: she made her way

  Far up a river, passing vine-clad hills,

  And wooded castles all the sunny day.

  Oft-times she had to dive or take cool swills

  To ease her burning skin. She fain would play

  With bathing children; but with terror-shrills

  They fled from her; and when dogs barked amain,

  She too took fright, and turned to sea again.

  15

  The fourth remained in mid-seas; whence, said she,

  A vast blue bell of glass appeared the vault.

  Dim sails she spied; and watched the tireless glee

  Of waggish dolphins turning somersault,

  And whales a-snorting fountains angrily.

  The fifth went up in winter, when like malt

  The surge was frothing, and the drifting ice

  Shone green as emerald thrones of Paradise.

  16

  She took a slippery seat on one of these,

  And let the winds fan out her long, wet hair.

  The near ships scudded on before the breeze

  As if alarmed to see her.... Then the air

  Fell vaporous-heavy; ocean, ill at ease,

  Belched spray; but safe upon her swinging chair,

  She laughed to see the vessels roll and leap,

  And lightnings zigzag o’er the seething deep.

  17

  It often happened that the sisters five

  Would rise with arms entwined at twilight brown.

  O! it was sweet to see them upward drive

  Light as the clustered balls of thistledown.

  Then would they sing, and singing sometimes strive

  To tell storm-tossers not to fear to drown.

  But men, who take their voices for the wind,

  Must perish ere they reach the sea-folk kind.

  18

  Said I those linkèd evening flights were sweet?

  Ah! not so unto one!... who stood and gazed

  Until the lightnings from the distant beat

  Of lashing tails she saw no more; then raised

  Her eyes to where the large, pale stars did fleet

  Through gliding shadows, and so dreamed amazed

  Of shadowy ships; which guessed not the appeal

  Of mermaid arms outstretched towards their keel.

  Part II

  19

  So dreamed she through the years; until, oh joy!

  The day of her ascension surely came.


  Now must the grandame tedious skill employ,

  In dressing her as should befit her name.

  Though truly all this pomp did but annoy

  The Princess: often, with a hurt exclaim,

  She would have shaken off the eight large shells

  That decked her tail; and ev’n her asphodels.

  20

  But ‘Pride must suffer pain’ the dame averred,

  And wove the heavy wreath about her brow.

  However, all forgotten at the word

  ‘Farewell’, she shot up lightsomely enow.

  Many a silver bubble she bestirred

  To quiver up as up she sped; and now,

  Herself a bubble, burst upon the air,

  And lost herself within its wonders rare.

  21

  The sun that moment dipped, but fairy pink

  Still flushed the clouds, and long their trailing fringe

  Swept on, and waved above the airy brink

  Where day was slipping from the earth. A tinge

  Curdled the sea, like mingling oil and ink,

  Or bloody lymph when witch’s flames impinge.

  And in the midst of that wide calm, there lay

  A large, dark ship, still as a rock, and grey.

  22

  Only one sail was hoist, for no breeze stirred.

  The sailors all about the rigging hung

  In easy pose, each like a dozing bird.

  Soft music breathed at times, clear voices sung;

  And when the shine of eve grew blurred,

  Hundreds of lantern fires on high were slung.

  Sudden, the dazzle of a rocket-glance!

  And on the deck strikes up the merry dance.

  23

  The mermaid, close beneath, essays to peep

  Through the transparent cabin panes; and oft

  As she is lifted by the billow-leap,

  Espies young human forms, more beauteous-soft

  Than she had dreamed; but oh! she holds these cheap

  Beside their Prince. Anon he goes aloft,

  Whereat a hundred fireworks skyward hiss,

  Fright’ning the maid far down the dark abyss.

  24

  When next she looks, the stars of heaven seem falling;

  Suns drizzle sparks, and all is light as day.

  So that amid the din and flash appalling,

  She clearly sees the glistening pleasure-ray

  Gleam from the Prince’s eye, as he is calling

  For songs, and smiling on his comrades gay.

  Why is his smile so sparkling and elate?

  Surely his birthday they must celebrate!

  25

  See how the poesy trembles on his lip

  To hear the pining violins, heart torn,

  Yearn to the lightsome harps, that o’er them trip,

  Like elves about Titania, love-lorn!

  Ah, hark, though - in the shrouds above the ship -

  How envious winds now bodefully ‘gin mourn!

  The sighing of their wailful harmonies

  Hath hushed the lutings and the chaunted glees.

  26

  It is late. Starry lamps and fierce fusees

  Fade out. The stunning guns are dumb. All ears

  Hark to grumbling in the heart of the seas.

  The ship makes sudden headway; on she steers,

  Her canvas spreading to the strengthening breeze;

  Till lightning shows a dark shore quickly nears.

  Whereat the mariners reef again the sails,

  And know they lie at mercy of the gales.

  27

  The mermaid, clinging to the vessel’s side,

  Bounding from crest to crest with dizzy swoop,

  Fancies they run a right good billow-ride.

  The crew, all huddled on the drenching poop,

  Think differently. Fresh leaks split gaping-wide;

  A mountain-wave bursts o’er a shrieking group,

  And sweeps them deep into the deep cold.

  28,

  The mast falls headlong; water fills the hold;

  She heels slowly - leans - sinks - O Heaven - she sinks!

  With gasp and bubbling groan the brave ship goes,

  She and her braver souls.... The nymph but thinks

  Of one; and him, just as his eyelids close,

  Just as his mouth draws in the first death-drinks,

  She finds, upholds, and guides between the floes

  Of battling planks and spars of splintering wood.

  Then lets the billows bear them where they should.

  29

  At dawn, the outspent wind sank down as dead;

  And gloriously uprist the eastern hues.

  They touched the Prince’s pallid cheek with red,

  And soon with certain life he did infuse.

  The nereid kissed him; fondled his fine head,

  And smoothed his hair so marred with clammy ooze.

  He seemed her statue grown life-sensitive!

  She kissed again, and knew that he would live.

  30

  Now they approached a balmy, sunlit land,

  Whose marble mountains, silver-tipped with snow,

  Towered o’er a seaboard fringe of citrons bland.

  She swam to where a domèd portico

  Crowned shallow waves; and, passing up the sand,

  Laid down her sleeping burden there-below.

  Then she drew back, and hid beneath thick foam,

  To watch for whoso thitherward might roam.

  31

  Ere long there issued from that building white,

  A crowd of straying girls. Soon one of these

  Beheld the prostrate corse; half choked with fright,

  She uttered cries; then, falling on her knees,

  Besought him speak. He stared, smiled, rose upright.

  And with those maidens vanished through the trees.

  But no smile sent he to the watching one,

  Nor knew he aught of all that she had done.

  32

  Stricken, as with a wound, she stiffly fell

  Into her father’s halls; and from that hour,

  Her pensiveness increased tenfold. ‘What spell’,

  They asked her, ‘doth thy budding life deflower?

  Show us this hidden woe. Thou wilt not tell?

  Sister, what sights of ship, or cloud or tower,

  Bewitched thee on thy happy day above?’

  — Empty request! How dared she say ‘twas Love!

  33

  Till, after lingering by that quiet beach,

  Marking the dazzling snow-caps slowly melt,

  Fruits ripen, cornfields mellow, pastures bleach,

  And last, the acorn showers begin to pelt,

  But seeing nevermore the Prince, her speech

  Could hold no more: all, all she felt

  And longed for, poured she out in piteous sobs.

  And lo! in flooded Hope with glorious throbs!

  34

  For none among her kindred maids but burned

  To help their sister’s love, so destitute;

  And ‘twas not long ere one of them had learned

  Where dwelt this Prince of high terrene repute.

  So henceforth her fond spirit no more yearned

  Unto a vision, once-seen, stark and mute,

  But now she held him in her constant sight,

  And stayed beneath his casement night by night.

  35

  He thought himself alone on many a night

  While she was close; and gave no noteful heed,

  When, in the shadows, murmured ripples slight.

  Once, ev’n, as she was hid in bedded reed,

  A gust seized hold her silvery veil so light.

  But he who saw, must needs the rest instead,

  By saying: ‘Lo! a swan that spreads its wings!’

  — How blind are men to twilight’s mystic things!
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  PART III

  36

  Much looking and much brooding on the earth,

  Desire unsated, daily growing worse,

  Begot in her young brain the sudden birth

  Of an idea - too strange for her to nurse.

  Therefore with fervidness, though feigning mirth,

  She brought it to the Queen: ‘Sweet dame, rehearse

  More and yet more of the world that’s dry.

  Bears it immortal lives? Or do men die?’

  37

  So she began, and thus the Queen replied:

  ‘They die, my child, they die. And their life’s term

  Is shorter than our own. We here abide

  Three hundred years; then, like the basest worm,

  Dissolve into the foamy ocean-tide.

  Now men have brief existence and infirm,

  But after, they ascend beyond the stars,

  Where tears are not, and naught their rapture mars.’

  38

  ‘And why have we no such undying soul?

  Oh, I would give my mermaid centuries

  For one day human, and Hope’s aureole.’

  ‘Think not of that; we of the underseas’,

  The lady said, ‘live happier and more whole

  Than men do, with their early grave, disease,

  And void despairs. For not all hope as thou,

  Nor is Life’s crown for every human brow.’

  39

  ‘So, at the last, to empty surf I melt;

  Drift on the gabbling waves, yet hear no word;

  Froth in the soft, warm rains, that fall unfelt;

  Fly before whistling winds that pipe unheard

  And know no more the place where I have dwelt.’

  ‘And better so! Why, ‘less reports have erred,

  Many a human life hath envied thine,

  And thy long sleep upon the windy brine.’

  40

  ‘But is there no way whereby I might find

  A spirit like to man’s?’

  ‘No way, dear girl,

  Unless it chanced some rashling of their kind,

  So loved you that you were to him a pearl,

  More goodly than his own wide world enshrined,

  And wedded you. Nay, mark! ‘Twould be a churl

  Who’d do it. This magnificent tail of yours

  Offends their youth. Four limbs, else no men-wooers!

  41

  ‘Come, come, be merry! Let us leap about

  During the span of years we have to live.

  Thou’lt find it long enough, beyond a doubt,

  To welcome Death, a blessèd lenitive.

  Tonight we give a ball: attend this rout;

  ‘Twill stir thy wits: thou’rt too contemplative.’

  In radiant revelry soon came the mermen all

  And nymphs, and staring fishes, great and small.

  42

  For ocean hummed with music through and through

  And the shades were phosphor-sheened. ‘Rejoice! Rejoice!’