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George Eliot's Poems

                                      

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George Eliot (1819-1880)

Brother and Sister


I.

              1I cannot choose but think upon the time
              2When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss
              3At lightest thrill from the bee's swinging chime,
              4Because the one so near the other is.

              5He was the elder and a little man
              6Of forty inches, bound to show no dread,
              7And I the girl that puppy-like now ran,
              8Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread.

              9I held him wise, and when he talked to me
            10Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the best,
            11I thought his knowledge marked the boundary
            12Where men grew blind, though angels knew the rest.

            13    If he said "Hush!" I tried to hold my breath;
            14    Wherever he said "Come!" I stepped in faith.

II.

            15Long years have left their writing on my brow,
            16But yet the freshness and the dew-fed beam
            17Of those young mornings are about me now,
            18When we two wandered toward the far-off stream

            19With rod and line. Our basket held a store
            20Baked for us only, and I thought with joy
            21That I should have my share, though he had more,
            22Because he was the elder and a boy.

            23The firmaments of daisies since to me
            24Have had those mornings in their opening eyes,
            25The bunch鑔 cowslip's pale transparency
            26Carries that sunshine of sweet memories,

            27    And wild-rose branches take their finest scent
            28    From those blest hours of infantine content.

III.

            29Our mother bade us keep the trodden ways,
            30Stroked down my tippet, set my brother's frill,
            31Then with the benediction of her gaze
            32Clung to us lessening, and pursued us still

            33Across the homestead to the rookery elms,
            34Whose tall old trunks had each a grassy mound,
            35So rich for us, we counted them as realms
            36With varied products: here were earth-nuts found,

            37And here the Lady-fingers in deep shade;
            38Here sloping toward the Moat the rushes grew,
            39The large to split for pith, the small to braid;
            40While over all the dark rooks cawing flew,

            41    And made a happy strange solemnity,
            42    A deep-toned chant from life unknown to me.

IV.

            43Our meadow-path had memorable spots:
            44One where it bridged a tiny rivulet,
            45Deep hid by tangled blue Forget-me-nots;
            46And all along the waving grasses met

            47My little palm, or nodded to my cheek,
            48When flowers with upturned faces gazing drew
            49My wonder downward, seeming all to speak
            50With eyes of souls that dumbly heard and knew.

            51Then came the copse, where wild things rushed unseen,
            52And black-scathed grass betrayed the past abode
            53Of mystic gypsies, who still lurked between
            54Me and each hidden distance of the road.

            55    A gypsy once had startled me at play,
            56    Blotting with her dark smile my sunny day.

V.

            57Thus rambling we were schooled in deepest lore,
            58And learned the meanings that give words a soul,
            59The fear, the love, the primal passionate store,
            60Whose shaping impulses make manhood whole.

            61Those hours were seed to all my after good;
            62My infant gladness, through eye, ear, and touch,
            63Took easily as warmth a various food
            64To nourish the sweet skill of loving much.

            65For who in age shall roam the earth and find
            66Reasons for loving that will strike out love
            67With sudden rod from the hard year-pressed mind?
            68Were reasons sown as thick as stars above,

            69    'Tis love must see them, as the eye sees light:
            70    Day is but Number to the darkened sight.

VI.

            71Our brown canal was endless to my thought;
            72And on its banks I sat in dreamy peace,
            73Unknowing how the good I loved was wrought,
            74Untroubled by the fear that it would cease.

            75Slowly the barges floated into view
            76Rounding a grassy hill to me sublime
            77With some Unknown beyond it, whither flew
            78The parting cuckoo toward a fresh spring time.

            79The wide-arched bridge, the scented elder-flowers,
            80The wondrous watery rings that died too soon,
            81The echoes of the quarry, the still hours
            82With white robe sweeping-on the shadeless noon,

            83    Were but my growing self, are part of me,
            84    My present Past, my root of piety.

VII.

            85Those long days measured by my little feet
            86Had chronicles which yield me many a text;
            87Where irony still finds an image meet
            88Of full-grown judgments in this world perplext.

            89One day my brother left me in high charge,
            90To mind the rod, while he went seeking bait,
            91And bade me, when I saw a nearing barge,
            92Snatch out the line lest he should come too late.

            93Proud of the task, I watched with all my might
            94For one whole minute, till my eyes grew wide,
            95Till sky and earth took on a strange new light
            96And seemed a dream-world floating on some tide --

            97    A fair pavilioned boat for me alone
            98    Bearing me onward through the vast unknown.

VIII.

            99But sudden came the barge's pitch-black prow,
          100Nearer and angrier came my brother's cry,
          101And all my soul was quivering fear, when lo!
          102Upon the imperilled line, suspended high,

          103A silver perch! My guilt that won the prey,
          104Now turned to merit, had a guerdon rich
          105Of songs and praises, and made merry play,
          106Until my triumph reached its highest pitch

          107When all at home were told the wondrous feat,
          108And how the little sister had fished well.
          109In secret, though my fortune tasted sweet,
          110I wondered why this happiness befell.

          111    "The little lass had luck," the gardener said:
          112    And so I learned, luck was with glory wed.

IX.

          113We had the self-same world enlarged for each
          114By loving difference of girl and boy:
          115The fruit that hung on high beyond my reach
          116He plucked for me, and oft he must employ

          117A measuring gance to guide my tiny shoe
          118Where lay firm stepping-stones, or call to mind
          119"This thing I like my sister may not do,
          120For she is little, and I must be kind."

          121Thus boyish Will the nobler mastery learned
          122Where inward vision over impulse reigns,
          123Widening its life with separate life discerned,
          124A Like unlike, a Self that self restrains.

          125    His years with others must the sweeter be
          126    For those brief days he spent in loving me.

X.

          127His sorrow was my sorrow, and his joy
          128Sent little leaps and laughs through all my frame;
          129My doll seemed lifeless and no girlish toy
          130Had any reason when my brother came.

          131I knelt with him at marbles, marked his fling
          132Cut the ringed stem and make the apple drop,
          133Or watched him winding close the spiral string
          134That looped the orbits of the humming top.

          135Grasped by such fellowship my vagrant thought
          136Ceased with dream-fruit dream-wishes to fulfil;
          137My aëry-picturing fantasy was taught
          138Subjection to the harder, truer skill

          139    That seeks with deeds to grave a thought-tracked line,
          140    And by "What is," "What will be" to define.

XI.

          141School parted us; we never found again
          142That childish world where our two spirits mingled
          143Like scents from varying roses that remain
          144One sweetness, nor can evermore be singled.

          145Yet the twin habit of that early time
          146Lingered for long about the heart and tongue:
          147We had been natives of one happy clime
          148And its dear accent to our utterance clung.

          149Till the dire years whose awful name is Change
          150Had grasped our souls still yearning in divorce,
          151And pitiless shaped them in two forms that range
          152Two elements which sever their life's course.

          153    But were another childhood-world my share,
          154    I would be born a little sister there.
___________________________________________________

I Grant you Ample Leave


              1"I grant you ample leave
              2To use the hoary formula 'I am'
              3Naming the emptiness where thought is not;
              4But fill the void with definition, 'I'
              5Will be no more a datum than the words
              6You link false inference with, the 'Since' & 'so'
              7That, true or not, make up the atom-whirl.
              8Resolve your 'Ego', it is all one web
              9With vibrant ether clotted into worlds:
            10Your subject, self, or self-assertive 'I'
            11Turns nought but object, melts to molecules,
            12Is stripped from naked Being with the rest
            13Of those rag-garments named the Universe.
            14Or if, in strife to keep your 'Ego' strong
            15You make it weaver of the etherial light,
            16Space, motion, solids & the dream of Time --
            17Why, still 'tis Being looking from the dark,
            18The core, the centre of your consciousness,
            19That notes your bubble-world: sense, pleasure, pain,
            20What are they but a shifting otherness,
            21Phantasmal flux of moments? --"
______________________________________________________

In a London Drawingroom


              1The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
              2For view there are the houses opposite
              3Cutting the sky with one long line of wall
              4Like solid fog: far as the eye can stretch
              5Monotony of surface & of form
              6Without a break to hang a guess upon.
              7No bird can make a shadow as it flies,
              8For all is shadow, as in ways o'erhung
              9By thickest canvass, where the golden rays
            10Are clothed in hemp. No figure lingering
            11Pauses to feed the hunger of the eye
            12Or rest a little on the lap of life.
            13All hurry on & look upon the ground,
            14Or glance unmarking at the passers by
            15The wheels are hurrying too, cabs, carriages
            16All closed, in multiplied identity.
            17The world seems one huge prison-house & court
            18Where men are punished at the slightest cost,
            19With lowest rate of colour, warmth & joy.
__________________________________________________

'Mid my Gold-brown Curls


              1'Mid my gold-brown curls
              2    There twined a silver hair:
              3I plucked it idly out
              4And scarcely knew 'twas there.
              5Coiled in my velvet sleeve it lay
              6And like a serpent hissed:
              7"Me thou canst pluck & fling away,
              8    One hair is lightly missed;
              9But how on that near day
            10When all the wintry army muster in array?"
________________________________________________

"O May I Join the Choir Invisible"


Longum illud tempus, quum non ero, magis me movet, quam hoc exigium.

-- CICERO, ad Att., xii. 18.

              1O may I join the choir invisible
              2Of those immortal dead who live again
              3In minds made better by their presene: live
              4In pulses stirred to generosity,
              5In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
              6For miserable aims that end with self,
              7In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
              8And with their mild persistence urge man's search
              9To vaster issues.

              9                    So to live is heaven:
            10To make undying music in the world,
            11Breathing as beauteous order that controls
            12With growing sway the growing life of man.
            13So we inherit that sweet purity
            14For which we struggled, failed, and agonised
            15With widening retrospect that bred despair.
            16Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued,
            17A vicious parent shaming still its child
            18Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolved;
            19Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies,
            20Die in the large and charitable air.
            21And all our rarer, better, truer self,
            22That sobbed religiously in yearning song,
            23That watched to ease the burthen of the world,
            24Laboriously tracing what must be,
            25And what may yet be better -- saw within
            26A worthier image for the sanctuary,
            27And shaped it forth before the multitude
            28Divinely human, raising worship so
            29To higher reference more mixed with love --
            30That better self shall live till human Time
            31Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky
            32Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb
            33Unread for ever.

            33                    This is life to come,
            34Which martyred men have made more glorious
            35For us who strive to follow. May I reach
            36That purest heaven, be to other souls
            37The cup of strength in some great agony,
            38Enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love,
            39Beget the smiles that have no cruelty --
            40Be the sweet presence of a good diffused,
            41And in diffusion ever more intense.
            42So shall I join the choir invisible
            43Whose music is the gladness of the world.

__________________________________________

Sweet Evenings Come and Go, Love


"La noche buena se viene,
La noche buena se va,
Y nosotros nos iremos
Y no volveremos mas."
                        -- Old Villancico.

              1Sweet evenings come and go, love,
              2    They came and went of yore:
              3This evening o our life, love,
              4    Shall go and come no more.

              5When we have passed away, love,
              6    All things will keep their name;
              7But yet no life on earth, love,
              8    With ours will be the same.

              9The daisies will be there, love,
            10    The stars in heaven will shine:
            11I shall not feel thy wish, love,
            12    Nor thou my hand in thine.

            13A better time will come, love,
            14    And better souls be born:
            15I would not be the best, love,
            16    To leave thee now forlorn.

【作者: 翰唐】【访问统计:】【2005年06月11日 星期六 16:39】【注册】【打印

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