408 THE FROZEN OCEAN THE sea would flow no longer, It sent an icy message To every wave and rill; They lagged, they paused, they stiffened, It summoned in its currents, They reached not where they led; It bound its foaming whirlpools. "Not fishes for the fisherman, Not beating loud for ever "But cold white foxes stepping On to my hard proud breast, And a bird coming sweetly And building a nest. "My icebergs shall be mountains, My silent fields of snow Unmarked shall join the lands' snowfields Where, no man shall know." 409 VIOLA MEYNELL THE END OF THE WORLD THE snow had fallen many nights and days; As though within the system of blind planets Where mountains were unbuilt and shadowless trees There was no wind, but now and then a sigh It was that men had been so long unseen, Or shapes loom larger through a moving snow. A butterfly, that hid until the Spring Under a ceiling's shadow, dropt, was dead. The coldness seemed more nigh, the coldness deepened It was of earth and came not by the air; The earth was cooling and drew down the sky. And when he touched the bars he thought the sting Heart, heart of mine, keep near me. No, no; sleep. Although I know he would awaken then He closed them thus but now of his own will. GORDON BOTTOMLEY |