Contemporary Belgian Poetry
Sylvain Bonmariage
1887—.
AUTUMN EVENING IN THE ORCHARD.
In the monotonous orchard alley glints
The languid sun that yet is loth to leave
This unripe, fascinating autumn eve,
And draws a pastel with faint, feminine tints.
Spite of the great gold fruits around us strown,
Of the last freshly-opened roses, which
But now we gathered, spite of all the rich
Odour filling the dusk from hay new-mown,
Of all the ripe, warm, naked fruit thou art
I covet nothing but the savour, while
Thou liest in the grass there with a smile,
Tormenting with thy curious eyes my heart.
YOU WHOM I LOVE IN SILENCE.
You whom I love in silence, as I must,
Fain had I been in olden tournament
To shiver lances for your eyes’ content,
Making full many a baron bite the dust.
Or rather I had been that favoured page
Who trained your hounds and falcons that he might
After you down the valley, o’er the height
Go galloping in eager vassalage.
I might have heard my lord solicit bliss,
And swear to you his vehement promises;
And gone to mass with you at dewy prime;
And in the cool of evenings I, to woo
The smile of your loved lips, had sung to you
The secret love of lovers of old time.