November / Robert Bridges

November

The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled
Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun
Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed;
The short days pass unwelcomed one by one.

— Out by the ricks the mantled engine stands
Crestfallen, deserted, — for now all hands
Are told to the plough, — and ere it is dawn appear
The teams following and crossing far and near,
As hour by hour they broaden the brown bands
Of the striped fields; and behind them firk and prance
The heavy rooks, and daws grey-pated dance:
As awhile, surmounting a crest, in sharp outline
(A miniature of toil, a gem's design,)
They are pictured, horses and men, or now near by
Above the lane they shout lifting the share,
By the trim hedgerow bloom'd with purple air;
Where, under the thorns, dead leaves in huddle lie
Packed by the gales of Autumn, and in and out
The small wrens glide
With a happy note of cheer,
And yellow amorets flutter above and about,
Gay, familiar in fear.

— And now, if the night shall be cold, across the sky
Linnets and twites, in small flocks helter-skelter,
All the afternoon to the gardens fly,
From thistle-pastures hurrying to gain the shelter
Of American rhododendron or cherry-laurel:
And here and there, near chilly setting of sun,
In an isolated tree a congregation
Of starlings chatter and chide,
Thickset as summer leaves, in garrulous quarrel:
Suddenly they hush as one, —
The tree top springs, —
And off, with a whirr of wings,
They fly by the score
To the holly-thicket, and there with myriads more
Dispute for the roosts; and from the unseen nation
A babel of tongues, like running water unceasing,
Makes live the wood, the flocking cries increasing,
Wrangling discordantly, incessantly,
While falls the night on them self-occupied;
The long dark night, that lengthens slow,
Deepening with Winter to starve grass and tree,
And soon to bury in snow
The Earth, that, sleeping 'neath her frozen stole,
Shall dream a dream crept from the sunless pole
Of how her end shall be.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from Poetical Works, 1912

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Robert Bridges biography

October / Robert Bridges

October

April adance in play
    met with his lover May
    where she came garlanded.
The blossoming boughs o’erhead
    were thrill’d to bursting by
    the dazzle from the sky
    and the wild music there
    that shook the odorous air.

Each moment some new birth
    hasten’d to deck the earth
    in the gay sunbeams.
Between their kisses dreams:
    And dream and kiss were rife
    with laughter of mortal life.

But this late day of golden fall
    is still as a picture upon a wall
    or a poem in a book lying open unread.
    Or whatever else is shrined
when the Virgin hath vanishèd:
    Footsteps of eternal Mind
    on the path of the dead.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from October, and other poems, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

[November]

Robert Bridges biography

North Wind in October / Robert Bridges

XVI

In the golden glade the chestnuts are fallen all;
From the sered boughs of the oak the acorns fall:
The beech scatters her ruddy fire;
The lime hath stripped to the cold,
And standeth naked above her yellow attire:
The larch thinneth her spire
To lay the ways of the wood with cloth of gold.

     Out of the golden-green and white
Of the brake the fir-trees stand upright
In the forest of flame, and wave aloft
To the blue of heaven their blue-green tuftings soft.

     But swiftly in shuddering gloom the splendours fail,
As the harrying North-wind beareth
A cloud of skirmishing hail
The grieved woodland to smite:
In a hurricane through the trees he teareth,
Raking the boughs and the leaves rending,
And whistleth to the descending
Blows of his icy flail.
Gold and snow he mixeth in spite,
And whirleth afar; as away on his winnowing flight
He passeth, and all again for awhile is bright.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from Shorter Poems, Book V, 1893

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Robert Bridges biography

London Snow / Robert Bridges

from Shorter Poems, Book III:

II

London Snow

When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
     Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
     Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
     All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
Its clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
     And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled-marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
     The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.
     Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snow-balling;
     Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder,
'O look at the trees!' they cried, 'O look at the trees!'
     With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,
Following along the white deserted way,
A country company long dispersed asunder:
     When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
     For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:
     But even for them awhile no cares encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber
At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the
          charm they have broken.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from Shorter Poems, 1890

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

"London Snow" read by Tom O'Bedlam. Courtesy SpokenVerse.

Robert Bridges biography

The birds that sing on autumn eves / Robert Bridges

from Shorter Poems, Book IV:

                         XXI

The birds that sing on autumn eves
Among the golden-tinted leaves,
Are but the few that true remain
Of budding May's rejoicing train.
Like autumn flowers that brave the frost,
And make their show when hope is lost,
These 'mong the fruits and mellow scent
Mourn not the high-sunned summer spent.
Their notes thro' all the jocund spring
Were mixed in merry musicking:
They sang for love the whole day long,
But now their love is all for song.
Now each hath perfected his lay
To praise the year that hastes away:
They sit on boughs apart, and vie
In single songs and rich reply:
And oft as in the copse I hear
These anthems of the dying year,
The passions, once her peace that stole,
With flattering love my heart console.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from Shorter Poems, 1890

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Robert Bridges biography

When June is Come / Robert Bridges (2 poems)

from Shorter Poems, Book IV:

XIV.

When June is come, then all the day
I'll sit with my love in the scented hay:
And watch the sunshot palaces high,
That the white clouds build in the breezy sky.

She singeth, and I do make her a song,
And read sweet poems the whole day long:
Unseen as we lie in our haybuilt home.
O life is delight when June is come.

XV. 

The pinks along my garden walks
Have all shot forth their summer stalks,
Thronging their buds 'mong tulips hot,
     And blue forget-me-not.

Their dazzling snows forth-bursting soon
Will lade the idle breath of June:
And waken thro' the fragrant night
     To steal the pale moonlight.

The nightingale at end of May
Lingers each year for their display;
Till when he sees their blossoms blown,
     He knows the spring is flown.

June's birth they greet, and when their bloom
Dislustres, withering on his tomb,
Then summer hath a shortening day;
     And steps slow to decay.

~~

Robert Bridges (1844-1930)

from Shorter Poems, 1890

[Poems are in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union] 

Robert Bridges biography

January / Robert Bridges

January

Cold is the winter day, misty and dark:
The sunless sky with faded gleams is rent;
And patches of thin snow outlying, mark
The landscape with a drear disfigurement.

The trees their mournful branches lift aloft:
The oak with knotty twigs is full of trust,
With bud-thronged stems the cherry in the croft;
The chestnut holds her gluey knops upthrust.

No birds sing, but the starling chaps his bill
And chatters mockingly; the newborn lambs
Within their strawbuilt fold beneath the hill
Answer with plaintive cry their bleating dams.

Their voices melt in welcome dreams of spring,
Green grass and leafy trees and sunny skies:
My fancy decks the woods, the thrushes sing,
Meadows are gay, bees hum and scents arise.

And God the Maker doth my heart grow bold
To praise for wintry works not understood,
Who all the worlds and ages doth behold,
Evil and good as one, and all as good.

~~
Robert Bridges
from The Shorter Poems of Robert Bridges, 1899

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Robert Bridges biography

Early Autumn / Robert Bridges

Early Autumn

So hot the noon was, with lilies the bank so gay,
     With arrowhead, pink rushes and water mint,
     And sapphire flies that darted heavenly glint,

Whether it were summer still we could not say;

Or if already autumn had owned the day,
     Aglare with smirching gaze on bloom and tint;
     And ripening all to death, old parch and stint
The last stooks down at the river as we lay.

O poise of my only August! ah tears and praise
     Take now for my sweet lingering; so few more
Years of delight, swift as delight of days;
E'er fading, falling, dropping, darkening o'er
The landscape perishes round the miry ways,
     And rheumy winter snows up window and door.

~~
Robert Bridges
from Poems by the author of 'The Growth of Love', 1879

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Robert Bridges biography

The evening darkens over / Robert Bridges

XVIII

The evening darkens over,
After a day so bright
The windcapt waves discover
That wild will be the night.
There's sound of distant thunder.

The latest sea-birds hover
Along the cliff's sheer height;
As in the memory wander
Last flutterings of delight,
White wings lost on the white.

There's not a ship in sight;
And as the sun goes under
Thick clouds conspire to cover
The moon that should rise yonder.
Thou art alone, fond lover.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from Shorter Poems, 1890

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Robert Bridges biography

"The evening darkens over" read by Narad. Courtesy Fine Poetry.

Winter Nightfall / Robert Bridges

         
Winter Nightfall

The day begins to droop,—
      Its course is done:
But nothing tells the place
      Of the setting sun.

The hazy darkness deepens,
      And up the lane
You may hear, but cannot see,
      The homing wain.

An engine pants and hums
      In the farm hard by:
Its lowering smoke is lost
      In the lowering sky.

The soaking branches drip,
      And all night through
The dropping will not cease
      In the avenue.

A tall man there in the house
      Must keep his chair:
He knows he will never again
      Breathe the spring air:

His heart is worn with work;
      He is giddy and sick
If he rise to go as far
      As the nearest rick:

He thinks of his morn of life,
      His hale, strong years;
And braves as he may the night
      Of darkness and tears.

~~
Robert Bridges (1844-1930)
from Poetical Works, Volume II, 1899.

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Robert Bridges biography