Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE POSTERN GATE, by JOHN LAWSON STODDARD Poet's Biography First Line: I chose me a lovely garden Last Line: "is gilding the postern gate." Subject(s): Gardens & Gardening; Grief; Life; Sleep; Sorrow; Sadness | ||||||||
I chose me a lovely garden, Beneath whose ivied wall A lake's blue wavelets murmur As evening shadows fall, -- A garden, whose leafy windows Frame visions of Alpine snow On peaks that burn to crimson In sunset's afterglow. And there, in its sweet seclusion, I built me a mansion fair, With many a classic statue And Eastern relic rare, And volumes, whose precious pages Hold all that the wise have said, -- The latest among the living, The greatest among the dead. And I sat in those fragrant arbors Of laurel and palm and pine, And held in the tranquil twilight My darling's hand in mine; And said "We will here he happy, And let the mad world go; Its gold no longer tempts us, Still less do its pomp and show; "No more shall its cares annoy us, And under these stately trees With Nature and Art and Letters Our souls shall take their ease." But a brood of griefs pursued us, Like evil birds of prey; They lodged in the trees' tall branches, They shadowed the cloudless day; They flew to the darkened casement, And beat on the wind-swept shade, And oft in the sleepless midnight We listened and were afraid; And daily came the tidings Of folly and crime and woe, And one by one kept dying The friends of long ago. For the Past is ever one's master, And Memory mocks at space, And Trouble travels with us, However swift our pace; And envy is always envy, Though called by a foreign name, And perfidy, greed, and malice Are everywhere the same. I thought I had left behind me That gloomy realm of care, But really one never leaves it, Its shadow is everywhere. So I learned at last the lesson That walls, and gates, and keys Can never exclude life's sorrows; They enter as they please. And if we ever acquire The perfect life we crave, A subtle warning tells us Its background is the grave. Perhaps I have almost reached it, For when I am walking late, I see a shrouded stranger Beside my postern gate; And a sudden chill creeps o'er me At sight of that figure grim, For I fancy that he is waiting For me in the twilight dim; And I know he will one day beckon With gesture of command, And I shall follow him mutely Away to the Silent Land, And all that I here have treasured In fountain, and tree, and stone Will pass to the hands of others, Whom I have never known. Hence over his sombre features There flickers a ghostly smile, As if he would say, "What matter? Your cares are not worth while; "The trouble which gives you anguish, The woes o'er which you weep, Will all be soon forgotten In my long, dreamless sleep. "Enjoy the fleeting moment; I cannot always wait, And the glow of the coming sunset Is gilding the postern gate." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONOMA FIRE by JANE HIRSHFIELD AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARDS by JOHN HOLLANDER WHAT GREAT GRIEF HAS MADE THE EMPRESS MUTE by JUNE JORDAN CHAMBER MUSIC: 19 by JAMES JOYCE DIRGE AT THE END OF THE WOODS by LEONIE ADAMS A MAY MONODY by JOHN LAWSON STODDARD |
|