In the Hall With Gwyneth
IN THE HALL WITH GWYNETH
By Zona Gale
DRAW the thread through the moving loom,
Lift the silk where the sun will fall;
Weave and weave and weave, till all
The green woof passes into bloom;
Weave till the flowery pattern dies,
And petals fade in the falling dusk;
Out of the garden blow attar and musk;
Over the garden one cloud lies.
Leave the loom, O daughter of her
Who bore three fairies, and then bore thee
To drink up the souls of the other three,
And learn what strange things were;
Leave the loom, and sit here instead,
Long fair hand on the carven arm,
Face like a lily risen warm
From the blood of roses dead.
Little shadows come in to blur
The pageant of pearls on thy robe's blue hem,
And the white of the pearl leaps out from them
Like moons of dusks that were.
The drone of the loom was like the drone
Of old warm noons in the lonely Fall,
When fields are deep with broom, and all
The air with amber bees is sown.
O Silver Woman, what shall I say?
Is it indeed that I love thee?—
Or only the beauty that sings to me
When I cross thy way?
Is it thou, Sweet, or the dream of thee?
Is it thou whom I love, or the old, warm noons
And the sealèd light of sunken moons
That thy strange face weaves for me?
I have loved women in many lands,
Languid women and women at looms;
I have seen Love laid in the thousand tombs
Love understands.
And here is the whole brave truth at last
There is something dearer than these, to me!
Aye, the beauty that love gives radiantly
Is the prize that I hold fast.
Leave me, thou lily of gardens dim
That I do not know, thou very sweet
Of the world of dreams! O Little Feet,
Go over the utmost twilight rim
Of the world, and bear thou there with thee
Thy silver hands and thine odorous hair—
But the dream and wonder thou canst not bear,
For the high gods gave them me!
•••••
Now Gwyneth who wove hath left her loom,
With silken step for the turret stair,
And the dark is everywhere in the room,
And the casement suffers the listless air.
The casement suffers the listless air—
There was one who leaned there long ago—
And, oh, for the scarf that she used to wear,
And a name that I used to know!
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1938, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 85 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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[[Categorypoems in periodicals]]