Caroling Dusk/The Return (Bontemps)
For works with similar titles, see The Return.
THE RETURN
I
Once more, listening to the wind and rain,Once more, you and I, and above the hurting soundOf these comes back the throbbing of remembered rain,Treasured rain falling on dark ground.Once more, huddling birds upon the leavesAnd summer trembling on a withered vine.And once more, returning out of pain,The friendly ghost that was your love and mine.
II
Darkness brings the jungle to our room:The throb of rain is the throb of muffled drums.Darkness hangs our room with pendulumsOf vine and in the gathering gloomOur walls recede into a denseness ofSurrounding trees. This is a night of loveRetained from those lost nights our fathers sleptIn huts; this is a night that must not die.Let us keep the dance of rain our fathers keptAnd tread our dreams beneath the jungle sky.
III
And now the downpour ceases.Let us go back once more upon the glimmering leaves And as the throbbing of the drums increasesShake the grass and dripping boughs of trees.A dry wind stirs the palm; the old tree grieves.
Time has charged the years: the old days have returned.
Let us dance by metal waters burnedWith gold of moon, let us danceWith naked feet beneath the young spice trees.What was that light, that radianceOn your face?—something I saw when firstYou passed beneath the jungle tapestries?
A moment we pause to quench our thirstKneeling at the water’s edge, the gleamUpon your face is plain: you have wanted this.Let us go back and search the tangled dreamAnd as the muffled drum-beats throb and missRemember again how early darkness comesTo dreams and silence to the drums.
IV
Let us go back into the dusk again,Slow and sad-like following the trackOf blowing leaves and cool white rainInto the old gray dream, let us go back.Our walls close about us we lie and listenTo the noise of the street, the storm and the driven birds. A question shapes your lips, your eyes glistenRetaining tears, but there are no more words.