The Great Mirror of Same-Sex Love - Poetry - 75. ...since you went away...

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Since you went away –

Two poems from Clifford Henry Benn Kitchin’s Winged Victory

From a Letter [in the Trenches]

“All day I walk with kind companions

(Who are for ever with me, like the poor),

Turning a darkened mind to this or that

Vague interest; talk from the afternoon

And on and on to lighting of the lamps,

Till casually someone mentions you,

And I am pale and silent.

Friendly eyes

Question my mood: “Since when are you so tired?”

And I reply as ever carelessly,

Meeting the gaze of kind companions

With resignation.

Smiles are ashen flowers

And life a desert, since you went away.” [i]

Vita Nova

I.

Your lips confess not, but your eyes declare

That I have dreamed too long, and in despair

I know not if my frozen apathy

Be life’s supreme achievement, or if I

Should rather make much effort to prevent

Time’s tricking sand from closing argument

With me, and scarcely formulate desire.

Was it well done to burn with such a fire,

Or earthly, of the earth-worm, to aspire?

II.

Drawn by the thought which dances in your brain

And beckons me, relentless suzerain,

To join the measure stepping as I may,

My unskilled feet, grotesque with interplay

Between the old desire of harmony

(Which the false movement mars regretfully),

And the new need of swift obedience,

Trace out an ill-stroked figure, having sense

Neither of knowledge nor of innocence.

III.

It may be that the sun has learned to smile

At night’s insatiate and transparent guile

Of eager onslaught, knowing in his heart

That night and day perforce have equal part

Of sky’s dominion, while the victory

Resigned to-day, to-morrow’s gain shall be;

So might you, knowing the magic of your power

Mark the amusement of the passing hour

And smile on me whose peace it shall devour.

IV.

With cowardice, “Too long,” and fear, “Too late,”

Upon your sovereignty I meditate,

But recognize at length that it is wain

To struggle any whit or to refrain;

For I am guided like a chrysalis

To inward stirring from the outward kiss

Of golden sun that penetrates all shells—

So grows the mystery in hidden cells

While wingèd life against the husk rebels. [ii]