Poems (Henley)/Prologue

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RHYMES

AND RHYTHMS

1889-1892

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PROLOGUE
Something is dead . . .The grace of sunset solitudes, the marchOf the solitary moon, the pomp and powerOf round on round of shining soldier-starsPatrolling space, the bounties of the sun—Sovran, tremendous, unimaginable—The multitudinous friendliness of the sea,Possess no more—no more.
Something is dead . . .The Autumn rain-rot deeper and wider soaksAnd spreads, the burden of Winter heavier weighs,His melancholy close and closer yetCleaves, and those incantations of the SpringThat made the heart a centre of miraclesGrow formal, and the wonder-working hoursArise no more—no more.
Something is dead . . .'Tis time to creep in close about the fire ​And tell grey tales of what we were, and dreamOld dreams and faded, and as we may rejoiceIn the young life that round us leaps and laughs,A fountain in the sunshine, in the prideOf God's best gift that to us twain returns,Dear Heart, no more—no mare.
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