Part 1

Produced by A. Light and Linda Bowser

A DOME OF MANY-COLOURED GLASS

by Amy Lowell

"Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity."

Shelley, "Adonais".

"Le silence est si grand que mon coeur en frissonne, Seul, le bruit de mes pas sur le pave resonne."

Albert Samain.

Contents

Lyrical Poems

Before the Altar Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems Apples of Hesperides Azure and Gold Petals Venetian Glass Fatigue A Japanese Wood-Carving A Little Song Behind a Wall A Winter Ride A Coloured Print by Shokei Song The Fool Errant The Green Bowl Hora Stellatrix Fragment Loon Point Summer "To-morrow to Fresh Woods and Pastures New" The Way Diya {original title is Greek, Delta-iota-psi-alpha} Roads Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H. The Road to Avignon New York at Night A Fairy Tale Crowned To Elizabeth Ward Perkins The Promise of the Morning Star J--K. Huysmans March Evening

Sonnets

Leisure On Carpaccio's Picture: The Dream of St. Ursula The Matrix Monadnock in Early Spring The Little Garden To an Early Daffodil Listening The Lamp of Life Hero-Worship In Darkness Before Dawn The Poet At Night The Fruit Garden Path Mirage To a Friend A Fixed Idea Dreams Frankincense and Myrrh From One Who Stays Crepuscule du Matin Aftermath The End The Starling Market Day Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina Francis II, King of Naples To John Keats

The Boston Athenaeum

Verses for Children

Sea Shell Fringed Gentians The Painted Ceiling The Crescent Moon Climbing The Trout Wind The Pleiades

Thanks are due to the editor of the 'Atlantic Monthly', and to Messrs. G. Schirmer, Inc., for their courteous permission to reprint certain of these poems which have been copyrighted by them.

LYRICAL POEMS

Before the Altar

Before the Altar, bowed, he stands With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. Not one of all these has he given, No flame of his has leapt to Heaven Firesouled, vermilion-hearted, Forked, and darted, Consuming what a few spare pence Have cheaply bought, to fling from hence In idly-asked petition.

His sole condition Love and poverty. And while the moon Swings slow across the sky, Athwart a waving pine tree, And soon Tips all the needles there With silver sparkles, bitterly He gazes, while his soul Grows hard with thinking of the poorness of his dole.

"Shining and distant Goddess, hear my prayer Where you swim in the high air! With charity look down on me, Under this tree, Tending the gifts I have not brought, The rare and goodly things I have not sought. Instead, take from me all my life!

"Upon the wings Of shimmering moonbeams I pack my poet's dreams For you. My wearying strife, My courage, my loss, Into the night I toss For you. Golden Divinity, Deign to look down on me Who so unworthily Offers to you: All life has known, Seeds withered unsown, Hopes turning quick to fears, Laughter which dies in tears. The shredded remnant of a man Is all the span And compass of my offering to you.

"Empty and silent, I Kneel before your pure, calm majesty. On this stone, in this urn I pour my heart and watch it burn, Myself the sacrifice; but be Still unmoved: Divinity."

From the altar, bathed in moonlight, The smoke rose straight in the quiet night.

Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems

Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign To put upon the cover of this book? Who heard thee singing in the distance dim, The vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood, When the damp freshness of the morning earth Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song?

Who followed over moss and twisted roots, And pushed through the wet leaves of trailing vines Where slanting sunbeams gleamed uncertainly, While ever clearer came the dropping notes, Until, at last, two widening trunks disclosed Thee singing on a spray of branching beech, Hidden, then seen; and always that same song Of joyful sweetness, rapture incarnate, Filled the hushed, rustling stillness of the wood?

We do not know what bird thou art. Perhaps That fairy bird, fabled in island tale, Who never sings but once, and then his song Is of such fearful beauty that he dies From sheer exuberance of melody.