Poems (Scudder)/Sunset Near an Old Château
SUNSET NEAR AN OLD CHATEAU
Close-leaved quince and apple-tree Cluster in the long-dry moat While a milky sky above Curves and shimmers daintily As the white wood-pigeon's throat; Strikes the west a bolder note, Golden rose of Dijon's love, Poppy-gold or apricote.
From the lindens torchlike burning Heart-shaped flakes of gold afloat Down the breeze are drifting, turning. —Heart of gold, oh, heart of gold—Where to find you? For, behold, Underneath the branches low Fairy realms unchanged, remote, Green as chrysoberyl glow. Green of hazel, green of brake, Green of changeling poplars souled By the argent sprites of lake Or of ocean. Heart of gold, I shall never find you there In the fern-choked paths, or where Lies the little white chateau Just beyond the forest brink Like a shell to mark the flow Of the upper tides and show Faint, quick pulses of the sea Throbbing mauve and golden pink Through its veinless purity.
See the great sunflowers stooping By the sheer moat edge and drooping Each the massive chevelure Of her tawny yellow hair, Lithe and proud and fiercely fair, Nymph or dryad—who could say Which hath stranger, wilder lure On this verge of night and day?
Now, a flight of swallows whirls Past the grey-walled chapel; swirls Swift as eddied soot-flakes through That low arch whose stones are wound With clematis heat-embrowned. Gold heart of the twilight, you Are too nearly spent, and I Grieve to see against the blue Of the darkling middle sky Moon of gossamer that shows Neither crescent nor full round, Kingcup nay, nor golden rose—But as mid the thickly growing Purple harebells breezeward blowing One of phantom white is found.