Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
Holidays
By Allen Upward
 
AS the tree puts forth its flowers,
Time at certain seasons dowers
  Men with moments so delicious
They forget all former hours.
 
Magic hints that wake the mind        5
From the sleep that seals mankind—
  Raptures, tumults, yearnings, visions,
Light that breaks upon the blind.
 
Charmed in circles of the sea,
Island of love’s mystery,        10
  There are old, pathetic secrets
Only known to you and me.
 
Children of the summertide,
Free from care and wrath and pride,
  We were happy while we wandered        15
Up and down the long sea-side.
 
Round the seagull’s rocky home
Azure waves through fretted foam
  Glanced and glowed like lancet windows,
Sapphire in an ivory dome.        20
 
Far afield a rain of light
Washed the utmost sea-wave white;
  Heaved and rolled in blinding splendor,
League on league of chrysolite.
 
Did we tread on beaten ground?        25
Were the waves that rocked us round
  Lapping on some isle of wonder
Dropped within the coral sound?
 
Fainter than a cloud, the moon
Floated up the sky too soon:        30
  Round us on the brooding valley
Slept the summer afternoon.
 
Every golden hour went by
Like a bead of tracery
  Strung upon an Indian necklace        35
To enchant a sultan’s eye.
 
How the stars, that hallowed night,
Seemed to pulse with our delight,
  Notes of some mysterious music
That we dared not read aright.        40
 
Every star that downward fell
Struck far off a mystic knell:
  Then the whole wide heaven about us
Boomed to silence, like a bell.
 
Something softer in the air        45
Whispered to our hearts beware:
  It was an enchanted region,
And we might not tarry there.
 
Long we sate and never spake,
Lest the light illusion break.        50
  We had fallen asleep together,
And we could not bear to wake.
 
Never to that haunted shore
Bid me bend my voyage more.
  Bitter thorns are left to harvest        55
Where we gathered blooms before.
 
 
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