Burning Wheel

<SPAN name="PHILOCLEA_IN_THE_FOREST"></SPAN>PHILOCLEA IN THE FOREST.<br/> <br/> <br/> I.<br/> <br/> 'TWas I that leaned to Amoret<br/> With: "What if the briars have tangled Time,<br/> Till, lost in the wood-ways, he quite forget<br/> How plaintive in cities at midnight sounds the chime<br/> Of bells slow-dying from discord to the hush whence<br/> they rose and met.<br/> <br/> "And in the forest we shall live free,<br/> Free from the bondage that Time has made<br/> To hedge our soul from its liberty?<br/> We shall not fear what is mighty, and unafraid<br/> Shall look wide-eyed at beauty, nor shrink from its majesty."<br/> <br/> But Amoret answered me again:<br/> "We are lost in the forest, you and I;<br/> Lost, lost, not free, though no bonds restrain;<br/> For no spire rises for comfort, no landmark in the sky,<br/> And the long glades as they curve from sight are dark<br/> with a nameless pain.<br/> <br/> And Time creates what he devours,&mdash;<br/> Music that sweetly dreams itself away,<br/> Frail-swung leaves of autumn and the scent of flowers,<br/> And the beauty of that poised moment, when the day<br/> Hangs 'twixt the quiet of darkness and the mirth of the<br/> sunlit hours."<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> II.<br/> <br/> Mottled and grey and brown they pass,<br/> The wood-moths, wheeling, fluttering;<br/> And we chase and they vanish; and in the grass<br/> Are starry flowers, and the birds sing<br/> Faint broken songs of the dying spring.<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And on the beech-bole, smooth and grey,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some lover of an older day</span><br/> Has carved in time-blurred lettering<br/> One word only&mdash;"Alas."<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> III.<br/> <br/> Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">When shimmeringly, glimpse by glimpse</span><br/> Seen through the leaves, the silken figures sway<br/> In measured dance. Never at shut of day,<br/> When Time perversely loitering limps<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through endless twilights, should your strings</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whisper of light remembered things</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That happened long ago and far away:</span><br/> Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play...<br/> <br/> And you, pale marble statues, far descried<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where vistas open suddenly,</span><br/> I bid you shew yourselves no more, but hide<br/> Your loveliness, lest too much glorified<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">By western radiance slantingly</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shot down the glade, you turn from stone</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">To living gods, immortal grown,</span><br/> And, ageless, mock my beauty's fleeting pride,<br/> You pale, relentless statues, far descried...<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />