Lucy Maud Montgomery: Все стихи поэта

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The Gulls

Soft is the sky in the mist-kirtled east,

Light is abroad on the sea,

All of the heaven with silver is fleeced,

Holding the sunrise in fee.

Lo! with a flash and uplifting of wings

Down where the long ripples break,

Cometh a bevy of glad-hearted things,

Lucy Maud Montgomery

In Port

Out of the fires of the sunset come we again to our own

We have girdled the world in our sailing under many an orient star;

Still to our battered canvas the scents of the spice gales cling,

And our hearts are swelling within us as we cross the harbor bar.

Beyond are the dusky hills where the twilight hangs in the pine trees,

Below are the lights of home where are watching the tender eyes

We have dreamed of on fretted seas in the hours of long night-watches,

Ever a beacon to us as we looked to the stranger skies.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

When the Fishing Boats Go Out

When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,

And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,

And o'er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.

There's joyance and there's freedom when the fishing boats go out.

The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,

And sending sparkling kisses o'er the brows of virgin waves,

While routed dawn-mists shiveroh, far and fast they flee,

Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Among the Pines

Here let us linger at will and delightsomely hearken

Music aeolian of wind in the boughs of pine,

Timbrel of falling waters, sounds all soft and sonorous,

Worshipful litanies sung at a bannered shrine.

Deep let us breathe the ripeness and savor of balsam,

Tears that the pines have wept in sorrow sweet,

With its aroma comes beguilement of things forgotten,

Long-past hopes of the years on tip-toeing feet.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Song of the Sea-Wind

When the sun sets over the long blue wave

I spring from my couch of rest,

And I hurtle and boom over leagues of foam

That toss in the weltering west,

I pipe a hymn to the headlands high,

My comrades forevermore,

And I chase the tricksy curls of foam

O'er the glimmering sandy shore.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

The Voyagers

We shall launch our shallop on waters blue from some dim primrose shore,

We shall sail with the magic of dusk behind and enchanted coasts before,

Over oceans that stretch to the sunset land where lost Atlantis lies,

And our pilot shall be the vesper star that shines in the amber skies.

The sirens will call to us again, all sweet and demon-fair,

And a pale mermaiden will beckon us, with mist on her night-black hair;

We shall see the flash of her ivory arms, her mocking and luring face,

And her guiling laughter will echo through the great, wind-winnowed space.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Off to the Fishing Ground

There's a piping wind from a sunrise shore

Blowing over a silver sea,

There's a joyous voice in the lapsing tide

That calls enticingly;

The mist of dawn has taken flight

To the dim horizon's bound,

And with wide sails set and eager hearts

We're off to the fishing ground.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

When the Dark Comes Down

When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on the sea

With lisping laugh and whimper to the red reef's threnody,

The boats are sailing homeward now across the harbor bar

With many a jest and many a shout from fishing grounds afar.

So furl your sails and take your rest, ye fisher folk so brown,

For task and quest are ended when the dark comes down.

When the dark comes down, oh, the landward valleys fill

Like brimming cups of purple, and on every landward hill

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Down Home

Down home to-night the moonshine falls

Across a hill with daisies pied,

The pear tree by the garden gate

Beckons with white arms like a bride.

A savor as of trampled fern

Along the whispering meadow stirs,

And, beacon of immortal love,

A light is shining through the firs.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

November Evening

Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,

With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,

Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,

Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.

Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing

Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;

'Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,

Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

A Day in the Open

Ho, a day

Whereon we may up and away,

With a fetterless wind that is out on the downs,

And there piping a call to the fallow and shore,

Where the sea evermore

Surgeth over the gray reef, and drowns

The fierce rocks with white foam;

It is ours with untired feet to roam

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Echo Dell

In a lone valley fair and far,

Where many sweet beguilements are,

I know a spot to lag and dream

Through damask morns and noons agleam;

For feet fall lightly on the fern

And twilight is a wondrous thing,

When the winds blow from some far bourne

Beyond the hill rims westering;

Lucy Maud Montgomery