A July Fern-Leaf / Mortimer Collins

A July Fern-Leaf

Mors aurem vellens, "Vivite" ait, "Venio."

    I

 
White feet in the fairy fern –
    Quick wings in a chrysolite sky –
And an amethyst lamp in the west to burn,
When the cool dusk hours for which lovers yearn
    Pass in sweet silence by:
        Over summer seas
        Thou bringest these
                    Hither, July.

    II

Stern hours have the merciless Fates
    Plotted for all who die:
But looking down upon Richmond's aits,
Where the merles sing low to their amorous mates,
    Who cares to ask them why?
        We'll have wit, love, wine,
        Ere thy days divine
                    Wither, July.

    III

 
For the blossom of youth must fade,
    And the vigor of life must fly;
Yet to-day is ours with its odorous shade,
And the loving eyes which soon betrayed
    Dreams in the heart that lie.
        Swift life's stream flows,
        But alas! who knows
                    Whither, July.

~~
Mortimer Collins (1827-1876)
from The Inn of Strange Meetings, and other poems, 1871

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Mortimer Collins biography

Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898), Green Summer, 1868. Wikimedia Commons.

A Game of Chess / Mortimer Collins

A Game of Chess

Terrace and lawn are white with frost,
Whose fretwork flowers upon the panes —
A mocking dream of summer, lost
'Mid winter's icy chains.

White-hot, indoors, the great logs gleam,
Veiled by a flickering flame of blue:
I see my love as in a dream —
Her eyes are azure, too

She binds her hair behind her ears
(Each little ear so like a shell),
Touches her ivory Queen, and fears
She is not playing well.

For me, I think of nothing less:
I think how those pure pearls become her —
And which is sweetest, winter chess
Or garden strolls in summer.

O linger, frost, upon the pane!
O faint blue flame, still softly rise!
O, dear one, thus with me remain,
That I may watch thine eyes!

~~
Mortimer Collins (1827-1876)
from The Inn of Strange Meetings, and other poems, 1871

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Mortimer Collins biography

Summer / Mortimer Collins (2 poems)

Summer

    I

O golden, golden Summer!
     Over the hills I see
The track of thy flying footsteps
     As the soft south wind blows free,
And I hear the tender cadence
Of youths and of laughing maidens
     As they chant a song to thee.

O linger, linger Summer !
     And let thy south winds blow.
And bind thyself a garland
     Of the ruddiest flowers that glow,
For neither sprite nor mortal.
Till he pass the unseen portal,
     Unending joy can know.


    II

Come to the wild wood, come!
     Where it slopes to the restless sea.
Where the leaves are bright with an azure light.
And the quick winds hurry the falcon's flight.
     Poised amid ether free.

Purple the sunset dies
     Over shadowy hills afar,
And the lamp doth burn for which mortals yearn,
Incense of grief in a golden urn —
     Hesper — the Evening Star.

~~
Mortimer Collins (1827-1876)
from Idyls and Rhymes, 1855

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Mortimer Collins biography

A Greek Idyl / Mortimer Collins

I.

He sat the quiet stream beside –
His white feet laving in the tide –
And watched the pleasant waters glide
     Beneath the skies of summer.
She singing came from mound to mound,
Her footfall on the thymy ground
Unheard; his traquil haunt she found –
     That beautiful new comer.


II.

He said – "My own Glycerium!
The pulses of the wood are dumb,
How well I knew that thou wouldst come,
     Beneath the branches gliding."
The dreamer fancied he had heard
Her footstep, whensoever stirred
The summer wind, or languid bird
     Amid the boughs abiding.


III. 

She dipped her fingers in the brook,
And gazed awhile with happy look
Upon the windings of a book
     Of Cyprian hymnings tender.
The ripples to the ocean raced –
The flying minutes passed in haste;
Hid arm was round the maiden't waste –
     That waist so very slender.


IV.

O cruel Time! O tyrant Time!
Whose winter all the streams of rhyme,
The flowing waves of love sublime,
     In bitter passage freezes.
I only see the scrambling goat,
The lotos on the waters float,
While an old shepherd with an oat
     Pipes to the autumn breezes.

 ~~
Mortimer Collins
from Idyls and Rhymes, 1855

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Mortimer Collins biography