SUMMER OF LOVE

SUMMER
of LOVE

BY
JOYCE KILMER

NEW YORK
THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY
1911

Copyright, 1911,
BY
THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY

In Dedication:

TO ALINE

A vagrant minstrel of the street,

No poet of the laurel crown,

I kneel, dear Princess, at your feet,

And lay my book of verses down.

See all the love that lingers there,

And so, for love’s sake, find it fair.

Certain of the poems in this volume are reprinted by kind permission of the editors of the following magazines and newspapers: The Call, Harpers’ Weekly, The Independent, Moods, The Pathfinder, the New York Sun and the Sunday Magazine of the New York Times.

I am glad to acknowledge my debt of gratitude to my mother, Mrs. Kilburn-Kilmer, for her encouragement and assistance in making this book.

For sympathy and valuable advice, I am deeply obliged to many friends, particularly Mr. and Mrs. Henry Mills Alden and Mr. Robert Cortez Holliday.

CONTENTS

SUMMER OF LOVE

SUMMER OF LOVE

June lavishes sweet-scented loveliness

And sprinkles sunfilled wine on everything;

The very leaves grow drunk with bliss and sing

And every breeze becomes a soft caress.

All earthly things felicity confess

And fairies dance in many a moonlit ring;

The fleetfoot hours fresh wealth of joyaunce bring;

Life wears her gayest rose-embroidered dress.

Kind June, why bear these golden gifts to me?

All winter long I hear the throstle’s tune,

All winter long red roses I can see,

Reading the while Love’s ancient magic rune.

In Love’s fair garden-close I wander free,

So take your guerdon elsewhere, lovely June.

VILLANELLE OF LOVELAND

Loveland is fair to see,

Of all kind havens best,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

Here flowers bloom for thee,

Thy feet are rose-caressed,

Loveland is fair to see.

The violets shall be

Thy soft and fragrant nest,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

Thou shalt not lack for glee,

Here life is but a jest;

Loveland is fair to see.

None shall be glad as we;

Ah, grant me my behest,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

Now would I ask my fee,

Thy red heart I request;

Loveland is fair to see,

Dwell here, my Sweet, with me.

THURIFER

In a carven censer of burnished words,

Swung on a golden chain of rhythm,

For you I burn my heart.

IN A BOOK-SHOP

All day I serve among the volumes telling

Old tales of love and war and high romance;

Good company, God wot, is in them dwelling,

Brave knights who dared to scorn untoward chance.

King Arthur—Sidney—Copperfield—the daring

And friendly souls of Meredith’s bright page—

The Pilgrim on his darksome journey faring,

And Shakespeare’s heroes, great in love and rage.

Fair ladies, too—here Beatricè smiling,

Through hell leads Dante to the happy stars;

And Heloise, the cruel guards beguiling,

With Abelard makes mock of convent bars.

Yet when night comes I leave these folks with pleasure

To open Love’s great summer-scented tome,

Within whose pages—precious beyond measure—

My own White Flower Lady hath her home.

EADEM

Sometimes within the garden of your sweetness

I rest and dream and think of all the years

Before my soul had bloomed to fair completeness,

Those times of shadow-laughter, mixed with tears.

And in my dreams I see a gentle maiden

Whom I once loved and whom I still love, Sweet,

For she is like a rose with sunlight laden,

And my lips ache to kiss her little feet.

She is so pure the very sky above her

Is not so fair with all its white and blue,

And so, my love, I cannot help but love her

Although my life and love belong to you.

IN FAIRYLAND

The fairy poet takes a sheet

Of moonbeam, silver white,

His ink is dew from daisies sweet,

His pen a point of light.

My love, I know is fairer far

Than his, (though she is fair,)

And we should dwell where fairies are

For I could praise her there.

THE SORROWS OF KING MIDAS

King Midas took delight

In golden vessels bright,

And yellow bars of ore he found most fair;

But he had never seen

The dancing, glancing sheen

Of sunlight on your dark and fragrant hair.

His wealth could buy him wine

Made from the purple vine

And sweet as all the blossom-breathing South;

But he could never slake

His thirst, nor ease the ache

Of his hot lips at your love-pliant mouth.

SLENDER YOUR HANDS

Slender your hands and soft and white

As petals of moon-kissed roses;

Yet the grasp of your fingers slight

My passionate heart encloses.

Innocent eyes like delicate spheres

That are born when day is dying;

Yet the wisdom of all the years

Is in their lovelight lying.

SLEEP SONG

The Lady World

Is sleeping on her white and cloudy bed.

Like petals furled

Her eyelids close. Beside her dream-filled head

Her lover stands in silver cloak and shoon,

The faithful Moon.

So Love, my Love,

Sleep on, my Love, my Life, be not afraid.

The Moon above

Shall guard the World, and I my little maid.

Your life, your love, your dreams are mine to keep,

So sleep, so sleep.

LOVE’S THOROUGHFARE

As down the primrose path to Love I trod

The golden flowers kissed my eager feet,

The wayside trees with singing birds were sweet,

The summer air was like the smile of God.

“Turn back!” said one, “escape the avenging rod.

Soon thou the deathless flames of Hell shall meet.”

But I pressed on and thought of no retreat,

Till soon with fire I was clothed and shod.

But through the burning vales of Hell where flow

The molten streams of bitterest despair,

Made blind by pain I stumbled on, and lo!

I stood at last in Love’s own perfumed air.

So, having reached my journey’s end I know

That God made Hell to be Love’s thoroughfare.

WHITE BIRD OF LOVE

Little white bird of the summer sky,

Silver against the golden sun,

Over the green of the hills you fly,

You and the sweet, wild air are one.

Glorious sights are in that far place

Reached by your daisy-petal wing,

Rose-colored meteors dive through space,

Stars made of molten music sing.

Still, though your quivering eager flight

Reaches the groves by Heaven town,

Where all the angels cry out, “Alight!

Stop, little bird, come down, come down!”

Careless you speed over fields of stars,

Darting through Heaven swift and free;

Nothing your arrowy passage bars

Back to the earth and back to me.

Here in the orchard of dream-fruit fair

Out of my dreams is built your nest.

Blossoming dreams all the branches bear,

Fit for my silver dream-bird’s rest.

Here, since they love you, the young stars shine,

Through the white petals come their beams.

Little white love-laden bird of mine,

Let them shine on you through my dreams.

TRANSFIGURATION

If it should be my task, I being God,

From whirling atoms to evolve your mate,

With hands omnipotent I should create

A great-souled hero, with the starlight shod.

The subject worlds should tremble at his nod

And all the angel host upon him wait

Yet he should leave his pomp and splendid state

And kneel to kiss the ground whereon you trod.

But God, who like a little child is wise,

Made me, a common thing of earthly clay;

Then bade me go and see within your eyes

The flame of love that burns more bright than day,

And as I looked I knew with wild surprise

I was transformed—your heart in my heart lay.

When first the golden dawn of love was breaking

In your white soul, I kissed your gentle hand,

And all my heart with strange, sweet pain was aching,

A wild, new joy I could not understand.

And now, when I your slender fingers taking

Keep them enslaved to my hot lips’ demand,

I feel that same strange thirst that knows no slaking

But then—why should I wish to understand?

MY LADY

The joy of pleasant places

Where Saturn still doth reign

Is in her gentle face’s

Calm ignorance of pain.

The bliss of ages golden

In her slim hand is holden,

By old gods she was molden

Before the world knew stain.

Her body is an altar

Wherein is Love enshrined.

Before her worldlings falter

And cruel eyes grow kind.

Her breath is breath of roses

From mystic garden-closes,

The troubled it composes

Like nectar-laden wine.

GIFTS OF SHEE

O Shee who weave the moonlight into shimmering white strands,

O powerful and tender-hearted Shee!

While I live at home in plenty or am poor in far-off lands,

I will thank you for the gifts you gave to me.

For the silver collar that you wrought me by your magic art,

For the scarlet Seal that on my mouth you set,

For the glorious White Flower that you placed upon my heart,

When the sun and moon shall die I’ll thank you yet.

For around my throat the Silver Collar of soft arms I wear,

On my mouth sweet lips have fixed the Scarlet Seal,

On my heart the perfect Flower white of deathless love I bear,

And these charms, your gifts, ensure my lasting weal.

O Shee who weave the moonlight into shimmering white strands,

O powerful and tender-hearted Shee!

Though I live at home in plenty or am poor in far-off lands,

I will thank you for the gifts you gave to me.

WHEREVER, WHENEVER

If I had lived down underneath the earth,

And you had dwelt among the pleasant stars,

I should have flown the caverns of my birth,

And you have riven Heaven’s silver bars.

We owe no gratitude to wanton chance,

For not through him does heart cleave fast to heart.

Not time nor place nor any circumstance,

Could keep our lips, our breasts, our souls, apart.

BALLADE OF MY LADY’S BEAUTY

Squire Adam had two wives, they say,

Two wives had he, for his delight,

He kissed and clypt them all the day

And clypt and kissed them all the night.

Now Eve like ocean foam was white

And Lilith roses dipped in wine,

But though they were a goodly sight

No lady is so fair as mine.

To Venus some folk tribute pay

And Queen of Beauty she is hight,

And Sainte Marie the world doth sway

In cerule napery bedight.

My wonderment these twain invite,

Their comeliness it is divine,

And yet I say in their despite,

No lady is so fair as mine.