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But when it came to holding fast
All my heaped days as water went,
High in swirling dreams I stood,
With vain hands clutched the slipping past
Of straws and faces on the flood.
Till single among stones I saw
The white, the ragged irises,
Cold on a sky of petals dead,
Their young cheeks roughened in the wind,
Boys.white-surpliced boys
Cold boys of spring, the irises
With parted lips stood chanting there,
The green flood restive to their knees,
Rain powdered on their hair
And I who sought for heart’s farewell,
In dusk of spring, have brought you these -
The choir singing in a spell,
The white, the ragged irises.
Over their feet the spring tide bore
High bellows flecked with daisied foam.
I saw the wind, a swimmer, pass
From grey-girt isles of cloud, his home,
And mount the blue stockades of trees.
O then a singing on the air,
Caught and flung back and held again,
Curled in the rosy shells of rain
And pressed against earth’s listening ear
Took up the triumph-strain.
Cold boys of spring, the irises
With parted lips stood chanting there,
The green flood restive to their knees,
Rain powdered on their hair.
Until a red moon dipped shoulder-high,
A lantern swinging from the pole
Of some old fisher of the sky
In starry waters of the soul.
And I who sought for heart’s farewell,
In dusk of spring, have brought you these -
Irises white irises.
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