517. «Quiet the waters were, — do you recall?..» Quiet the waters were, — do you recall? — quietly did the waters rise and roll in low and gentle swells, when one fine day you dropped your anchor in my slumbering bay. Softly the breezes from the western sky swept over silent sands where you and I gazed at the sea — and not a shadow fell, nor came a cloud to break the golden spell. How can I wonder now, with you no more, that black the waters rise, and roar, and roar? 23 Feb. 1936 518. «High in the mountains, where the grass is cool…» High in the mountains, where the grass is cool, we tied our horses by an emerald pool, and as they drank, as they neighed in glee, we two sat motionless, and speechless, — we. Upon the shining flanks of your black steed you watched the water flicker, bead by bead; you never raised your eyes, yet well you knew — that all the while 1 only thought of you. Dear dream forgotten, dream that was so frail! The evening sky was cloudless, calm and pale — could I have guessed, as we resumed that trail, that every star would wane, and every stream run dry and silent, as in a by-gone dream? 23 Feb. 1936 519. Falling Star Star as you fell through the blue evening air when I stood watching you, silent and thrilled, I was supposed to have breathed a word of prayer that some deep wish I had might be fulfilled. But, star, oh, — white, round star, — I saw you fall, breathlessly saw the light behind you trailed, and I forgot the earth I trod, and all earthly desires and wishes, — and I failed… Bitter my sorrow now, and sore regret not to have grasped the chance the day it came! But such was your swift sudden spell, that yet if others fell — I still would do the same! Shanghai, [1936] 520. «I'm often dreaming…» I'm often dreaming that I unfurl my tall wings, gleaming like mother-of-pearl, and cut my tether, and take to flight, with each small feather glistening white; but, oh, I waken, and, to atone, breathless and shaken fall, like a stone, and see — a token of earthly things — they're broken — my shining wings! [1936] 521. «I am a stranger here. Leave me alone…»[233] I am a stranger here. Leave me alone. My eyes are tired of your streets of stone, your tower houses; I am used to wood and hill and meadows and to solitude. All now is ended — all the wild birds flown, and stars burnt out which had so brightly shone — all the tall stately firs stand bare and dead and silent lies each empty riverbed. Only the still brown rocks, moss-covered, keep their watch where silver wavelets curl and creep, and that same sky, sunless and cold and grey, hangs, — as the morning when I sailed away. Shanghai, 1936–1937 522. «I hope from where you sit or lie…»[234] I hope from where you sit or lie that you can see a patch of sky at night, with angels flitting by, each lighter than a sigh. I hope that thru your window pane you see trees, dripping in the rain, or stooping low as under strain where heavy snow has lain. That you can watch a billowy cloud sailing, like some white galleon proud, and birds around it, crying loud, ever a joyous crowd; I hope that you may never tire of watching sunlit skies on fire. 27 Nov. 1951 523 Nocturne(«White clouds…»)[235] White clouds Remote Like little explosions Climb the sky and float Above the black erosions Of the castle moat. Behind the grey parallelogram Of his castle wall The aged knight Snores, for he doesn't really give a damn At all For the beauty of the night. But in her tower The knight's young daughter Forgetful of the hour, Silently watches The silver splotches Upon the water. 29 Mar. 1955 524. Impressions at the Opera (a true story) Three dowagers with silver tresses and silver foxes over pale-blue dresses floated into their box, fox after fox, and settled down, like pillows stuffed with eiderdown. And Salvatore Baccaloni, as Bartolo up on the stage, though usually quite the rage, seemed not as fat, nor half as funny. вернуться Variant in the fourth line of the first stanza in the manuscript: «and hill and meadows from my solitudes.» The manuscript indicates that Mary Vezey planned to include another stanza between the first and the second stanzas; only one line was written in brackets: «In our tall forests we had stately firs.» вернуться The Norma Jean to whom this poem is dedicated has not been identified; perhaps it was Marilyn Monroe, whose real name was Norma Jeane Morrison. вернуться Variant in the last stanza in the manuscript: «But in her tower / high-walled, / the knight's young daughter /enthralled /forgetful of the hour/ silently watches/ the silver splotches / upon the water.» |
