Rubicund Autumn, red as a cardinal, clasps his hands in the wine-chill
air,
Shaking down gold from the tattered leafiness, waving his torch till the
sky’s aflare,
Stars that sparkle like steel in a swordhilt burn the black water of
night’s lagoons,
Out in the frost-rimed waste of the corn-field are yellow pumpkins
bigger than moons!
Pilfer the nightingale’s throat, my jackdaw Muse of the rebel and dark
pretends,
Steal one note from the silver babble that tells all Heaven a lark
ascends!
Stretch but a claw toward the dream-voiced pipes that Pan left
whispering under a tree!
Flute thou the tune to the rapturous dancers, let Io Hymen your cadence
be!
“Io Hymen!”, a chorus of voices sung in the temple of Love the bright,
“Eros, lord of the honey and flame, we bring you guests for your hall
to-night!
Grant them such marriage of heart and purpose as mates the hand to the
perfect sword,
The lips of courage, the eyes of truth, and the body of ecstasy, Eros,
Lord!
Grant that their years like rocketing gems of a necklace snapped at the
throat of a priest,
Differ from each by the color and shape, but in ardor and excellence
none are least!
Loose on them Trouble and Pain, swift leopards, to be taught and tamed
by their crystal wills!
Fling to them mountains to overcome that their feet may be glad on the
necks of the hills!
Every immortal must put on dust at a time all know or he is not God,
These shall take seizin of Death together, the dream shall break in the
crumbling sod.
But they shall inherit the resurrection, when Death has unloosened his
strangling cord!
Since they have endured they shall see your face where there is but
Eternity, Eros, Lord!”
Therefore, Muse of the motley garments, indolent thief of obscure
Romance,
Puff your cheeks to your penny whistle! fillip the feet of the flying
dance!
Blow out your soul in a torrent of music—even the trees are like lamps
ablaze!
This is the song of the red-leaf wedding that ended the jack-o’-lantern
days!