Alan Seeger: Все стихи поэта

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Antinous

Stretched on a sunny bank he lay at rest,

Ferns at his elbow, lilies round his knees,

With sweet flesh patterned where the cool turf pressed,

Flowerlike crept o'er with emerald aphides.

Single he couched there, to his circling flocks

Piping at times some happy shepherd's tune,

Nude, with the warm wind in his golden locks,

And arched with the blue Asian afternoon.

Alan Seeger

I Loved

I loved illustrious cities and the crowds

That eddy through their incandescent nights.

I loved remote horizons with far clouds

Girdled, and fringed about with snowy heights.

I loved fair women, their sweet, conscious ways

Of wearing among hands that covet and plead

The rose ablossom at the rainbow's base

That bounds the world's desire and all its need.

Alan Seeger

Tithonus

So when the verdure of his life was shed,

With all the grace of ripened manlihead,

And on his locks, but now so lovable,

Old age like desolating winter fell,

Leaving them white and flowerless and forlorn:

Then from his bed the Goddess of the Morn

Softly withheld, yet cherished him no less

With pious works of pitying tenderness;

Alan Seeger

On The Cliffs, Newport

Tonight a shimmer of gold lies mantled o'er

Smooth lovely Ocean. Through the lustrous gloom

A savor steals from linden trees in bloom

And gardens ranged at many a palace door.

Proud walls rise here, and, where the moonbeams pour

Their pale enchantment down the dim coast-line,

Terrace and lawn, trim hedge and flowering vine,

Crown with fair culture all the sounding shore.

Alan Seeger

After An Epigram Of Clement Marot

The lad I was I longer now

Nor am nor shall be evermore.

Spring's lovely blossoms from my brow

Have shed their petals on the floor.

Thou, Love, hast been my lord, thy shrine

Above all gods' best served by me.

Dear Love, could life again be mine

How bettered should that service be!

Alan Seeger

On A Theme In The Greek Anthology

Thy petals yet are closely curled,

Rose of the world,

Around their scented, golden core;

Nor yet has Summer purpled o'er

Thy tender clusters that begin

To swell within

The dewy vine-leaves' early screen

Of sheltering green.

Alan Seeger

Liebestod

I who, conceived beneath another star,

Had been a prince and played with life, instead

Have been its slave, an outcast exiled far

From the fair things my faith has merited.

My ways have been the ways that wanderers tread

And those that make romance of poverty —

Soldier, I shared the soldier's board and bed,

And Joy has been a thing more oft to me

Alan Seeger

An Ode To Antares

At dusk, when lowlands where dark waters glide

Robe in gray mist, and through the greening hills

The hoot-owl calls his mate, and whippoorwills

Clamor from every copse and orchard-side,

I watched the red star rising in the East,

And while his fellows of the flaming sign

From prisoning daylight more and more released,

Lift their pale lamps, and, climbing higher, higher,

Alan Seeger

Champagne, 1914-15

In the glad revels, in the happy fetes,

When cheeks are flushed, and glasses gilt and pearled

With the sweet wine of France that concentrates

The sunshine and the beauty of the world,

Drink sometimes, you whose footsteps yet may tread

The undisturbed, delightful paths of Earth,

To those whose blood, in pious duty shed,

Hallows the soil where that same wine had birth.

Alan Seeger

Fragments

In that fair capital where Pleasure, crowned

Amidst her myriad courtiers, riots and rules,

I too have been a suitor. Radiant eyes

Were my life's warmth and sunshine, outspread arms

My gilded deep horizons. I rejoiced

In yielding to all amorous influence

And multiple impulsion of the flesh,

To feel within my being surge and sway

Alan Seeger

Sonnet XVI

Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,

With single rites the common debt to pay?

On some green headland fronting to the East

Our fairest boy shall kneel at break of day.

Naked, uplifting in a laden tray

New milk and honey and sweet-tinctured wine,

Not without twigs of clustering apple-spray

To wreath a garland for Our Lady's shrine.

Alan Seeger

Sonnet XIII

I fancied, while you stood conversing there,

Superb, in every attitude a queen,

Her ermine thus Boadicea bare,

So moved amid the multitude Faustine.

My life, whose whole religion Beauty is,

Be charged with sin if ever before yours

A lesser feeling crossed my mind than his

Who owning grandeur marvels and adores.

Alan Seeger