Poems by James Elroy Flecker

SCENE: A street of that village.

My friend the Sun--like all my friends

Evening falls on the smoky walls,

Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell

(from Baudelaire.)

The song of a man who was dead

Soft is the collied night, and cool

Come, let me kiss your wistful face

from Leconte de Lisle

I rose from dreamless hours and sought the morn

When all my gentle friends had gone

In those good days when we were young and wise,

JOSEPH

O grandest of the Angels, and most wise,

Quien hubiese tal ventura?

O eyes that strip the souls of men!

Knowest thou the land where bloom the lemon trees,

I had a friend who battled for the truth

I am afraid to think about my death,

"But who art thou, with curious beauty graced,

When you have wearied of the valiant spires of this County Town,

I listened to the hunger-hearted clown,

They will trample our gardens to mire, they will bury our city in fire;

Let me not know how sins and sorrows glide

Satan, to thee be praise upon the Height

High and solemn mountains guard Riouperoux,

A linnet who had lost her way

I walked with Maisie long years back

From Heaven's Gate to Hampstead Heath

Aflatun and Aristu and King Iskander

It was no sooner than this morn

(a Greek Legend.)

Over the moonless land of Bathrolaire

Three Kings have come to Bethlehem

Had I the power

Now the sweet Dawn on brighter fields afar

There lies a photograph of you

There lies afar behind a western hill

While I translated Baudelaire,

Far out across Carnarvon bay,

I who am dead a thousand years,

We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late:

We that were friends to-night have found