Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OXFORD BELLS: PART 2; TO RHODA BROUGHTON, IN MEMORY OF HER SISTER, by MARGARET LOUISA WOODS Poet's Biography First Line: The bells their loud unchanging task fulfil Last Line: The coronal of this autumnal verse. Alternate Author Name(s): Woods, Mrs. Margaret Louisa Bradley Subject(s): Bells; Memory; Oxford, England | ||||||||
I The bells their loud unchanging task fulfil Bearing upon the ear and on the brain With a remindful resonance, until Half could I wish their oracles again Silent for me, as once they were; and yet More than remembrance is it mortal pain To watch that still, pursuing sea whose fret Washes our footsteps out, and one by one, O'er everything we were and would regret Sweeps the smooth waters of oblivion. II So let their incantation still sound on! Still shall new hours the old fair hours repeat, Bringing them back who with the hours are gone. There is a summer silence in the street, Where half the shouldering gables catch the sun, Their bloomy windows fragrant in the heat Surely 'tis but a little way to run And cross your threshold, then a shadowy space, Reach the gay garden and yourself and one Standing amid her flowers. In many a place Does this white moon of May find multitude Of flowers more beautiful than her own face. What long glades pale with hawthorn, what bedewed Soft slopes o'erspangled with the cowslip sheen, And nested primroses, a late lone brood! Through nets of delicate shadow she hath seen The sea-blue splendour of wild-hyacinths spread Up Wytham woods, under the first fresh green; O'er foamy orchards her young light is shed And flash of wilding blossom and the pride Of country gardens, richly tapestried With royal tulips, sumptuously dyed Purple and gold and sanguine, striped and smeared, Or pure in their keen colour as a bride Is in her whiteness. Yet as oft, she peered Over the black tower, smiling silverly, In yonder strip of city earth appeared As crowded wealth of flowers as she might see. By ample lawns o'erflowed with ministrant air Or hollow coverts none explore save she. For once it had your blithe and debonnair And 'lucky-fingered' lady, eve and morn To visit every bloom with happy care. She was a votary of that later born Young Muse, whom not less holy than the Nine, Some brown-haired Dryad bore to the unshorn Bright god; who now a hierophant divine, Comes treading with fair feet invisible, Choosing herself the priestess and the shrine. Such was that clear-eyed lady, who knew well Out of the earth's dark homes to call up store Of heaven-bright beauty and a wafting smell Sweeter than incense. All the bells restore, Even to the moontide shadow where we read Those ardent leaves, plucked from a heart's live core Flower-heart, whose burning petals wide dispread, With scarlet ruin did enrich the mould, Where still they glow, though long the flower is dead. III Tranquil and far, with murmur manifold, On Autumn eves the bells their power resume, Lone in the quiet sunset's waning gold. They conjure up a green embowered room, Where through the open casement there would swing A sound of bells into the fire-lit gloom. Oft have they chid me there, late lingering, Warm in its lady's gracious atmosphere, While easily as flames or fountains spring, That sparkling spirit of yours threw out its clear Lightnings of mirth, and the swift talk would flit Flashing its wings through laughter everywhere. How small a boon I brought you for your wit! Only perchance some woodbine wreath of song, Or hedgerow tale, dark though you smiled on it. And even as I musing passed along That street, you laid her to her near repose. There by the river oft shall roses throng Yet since I brought no garland such as blows In dewy May for her that loved the May, From other fields, where Herb Remembrance grows, I bring the unsheaved harvest of the way; Its purple leaves some dimmer dews immerse, I pluck, and on your living breast I lay The coronal of this Autumnal verse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DUNS SCOTUS'S OXFORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS OXFORD IN WAR-TIME by LAURENCE BINYON OXFORD CANAL by JAMES ELROY FLECKER ON THE PRE-REFORMATION CHURCHES ABOUT OXFORD by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY ODE TO THE LATE LORD MAYOR, ON PUBLICATION OF HIS 'VISIT TO OXFORD' by THOMAS HOOD BRUSSELS AND OXFORD by WILLIAM HURRELL MALLOCK OXFORD BELLS by SISTER MARIS STELLA SCENE FROM A PLAY CALLED 'MATRICULATION' by THOMAS MOORE |
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