I shall never be friends again with roses
I shall loathe sweet tunes where a note grown strong
Relents and recoils and climbs and closes
As a wave of the sea turned back by song
There are sounds where the soul’s delight takes fire
Face to face with its own desire
A delight that rebels, a desire that reposes
I shall hate sweet music my whole life long
The pulse of war and passion of wonder
The heavens that murmur, the sounds that shine
The stars that sing and the loves that thunder
The music burning at heart like wine
An armed archangel whose hands raise up
All senses mixed in the spirit’s cup
Till flesh and spirit are molten in sunder
These things are over and no more mine
I first read these lines in the preface of a book where the story (essentially a romance) was based in World War II and spanned three continents. The book conveyed a very strong feeling of love, longing and loss, and moved me deeply each of the three times I read it. The lines above impressed the same feeling, though in a mysterious, haunting sort of way. Though I must confess that I did not fully comprehended the poem. It was many years later, during my post-grad days, when I gained access to internet, that I learnt the source of this poem. It constitutes two stanzas of an epic poem (of 392 lines!) titled ‘
The Triumph of Time’, by
A. C. Swineburne. I could comprehend the entire poem even less – Though I love poetry, English poetry (or perhaps literature even) of 18th or 19th century is not my cup of tea. The complete poem presented an entirely different picture from the context I had read its excerpt in – it embodies the emotions of a man in an ill-fated love. The central idea of the poem is that the narrator's lover has deserted him, and he is left to endure a fate - a life of loneliness - that he considers worse than death.
As I said, I did not comprehend the poem too well, but there were many lines and/or phrases I just loved. Here are some of them …
***
Before our lives divide for ever
While time is with us and hands are free
Time, swift to fasten and swift to sever
Hand from hand, as we stand by the sea
***
Sullen savour of poisonous pain
***
The stream
One loose thin pulseless tremulous vein
Rapid and vivid and dumb as a dream
***
The loves and hours of the life of a man
They are swift and sad being born of the sea
Hours that rejoice and regret for a span
Born with a man’s breath mortal as he
Loves that are lost ere they come to birth
Weeds of the wave without fruit upon earth
***
The hopes that hurt and the dreams that hover
***
I shall go my ways tread out my measure
Fill the days of my daily breath
With fugitive things not good to treasure
***
My favorite lines are still the ones that I first chanced upon, though. And I just wish I could write such beautiful poetry. Sigh.