Classic Poem

Castle Hill, Virginia

Hedges of Box,
Magical, severe, serene,
Full of promises,
Promising strange fulfilments,
Welcoming their own, —
Swaying with somber witchery,
With threatening even
For intruders, for inquisitive strangers;
Tirelessly watching,
Waiting,
Sentinels of centuries,
Content with the wisdom of root and leaf,
With the mystic bondage of earth, —
Themselves mystical, magical, secret,
Possessed of unknown powers and beatitudes. . . .

I came home to you, marvellous ones,
From the obsessed uproar of the city,
From the furious to-and-fro
Of beings herded and goaded by petulant desires;
I came back to you on an evening of April,
Climbing the wild hill a-foot
That I might greet you alone, in simplicity, —
And you towered above me like the beauty of Darkness,
You lifted against the crocus-bright air
Your superb gloom
In a barrier of strong enchantment
Behind which I should rediscover reality;
Your bitter-sweet fragrance upon me
Was as a potent charm
Sealing my wits of every day,
Unsealing others long forgotten...
I gathered your great branches in my arms
Leaning my breast against yours,
And you held me up like a lover ...

The old house benign and wistful,
Is glad of my presence,
So long it has stood companionless
Guarded only by the huge box hedges: —
I have sent the old negress away
To sleep in her cottage
Beyond the hedges ...

My candle under its antique, crystal shade
Burns quietly,
The long, white hall flowers with shadows,
White acacia blossoms slide over the glassy floor
Stirred by the breathing of night;
Outside, between the Doric columns
The air hangs a cloak of purple feathers
Spotted with silver ...
The silence rings like Benares brass ...
Rings, rings....

I am called by something more potent than a voice, —
By a bitter-sweet fragrance,
Pungent,
Imperially insistent ...
My heart is being tuned high, high,
By something beyond my will,
My heart-strings are stretched fine as gossamer ...

What is it that I shall see within your circling walls,
If I go forth to you,
Hedges of box,
Hedges of Magic?
Will a milk-white Unicorn come to drink
From the pool where you mirror your magnificence?
I should love to see a moon-coloured Unicorn
With silver hoofs
And spiked forhead-horn of silver
Cantering delicately along your curved ramparts!

Cantering delicately it came,
More beautiful and clear-cut than a naked nymph
Cameoed against the flying buttresses of box;
About its neck, satiny hard and pale as feldspar,
One had hung a garland of blue roses
And opals of fire-fly green,
Its forehead-horn shone like Venetian glass whorled with silver,
Its hoofs were of silvered crystal.
As it drank from the cloud paved-pool
Its milky lustre blended with the clouds
And its necklace of azure roses and gold-green opals
With the sky and stars....

I would have been content to stroke the heraldic perfection of its neck,
But a woman darted suddenly between us
And swung herself upon its back;
She struck it lightly with the looped garland of roses,
Turning to smile at me
As they sped off together,
And I saw that she was myself
As I had been at one and twenty.

Evoi!
Hedges of box,
Hedges of Magic.
Evoi! Evoi!
Behind your barrier of glad enchantment
I have rediscovered reality.