The Blue Bird (Custance)/Statues

by Olive Custance

STATUES

I have loved statues . . . spangled dawns have seen.Me bowed before their beauty . . . when the greenAnd silver world of Spring wears radiantlyThe morning rainbows of an opal sky . . .And I have chanted curious madrigalsTo charm their coldness, twined for coronalsBlossoming branches, thinking thus to changeTheir still contempt for mortal love, their brightProud scorn to something delicate and strange,More sweet, more marvellous, than mere delight!

I have loved statues—passionately proneMy body worshipped the white form of stone!And like a flower that lifts its chalice upTowards the light—my soul became a cupThat over-brimming with enchanted wineOf ecstasy—was raised to the divineIndifferent lips of some young silent GodStanding aloof from all our tears and strife,Tranced in the paradise of dreams, he trodIn the untroubled summer of his life!

I have loved statues . . . and at night the coldMysterious moon behind a mask of gold—Or veiled in silver veils—has seen my prideUtterly broken—seen the dream deniedFor which I pleaded—heedless that for meThe miracle of joy could never be . . .As in old legends beautiful and strange,When bright gods loved fair mortals born to die,And the frail daughters of despair and changeBecame the brides of immortality?