How Much, How Much

i. How much, how much I wish an oak to be: Seven hundred years and more Would I have been And still Here would be. ii. I would, I would The coming of the Knights From my high altitude First L’Isle Adam Whilst carried in the chaise As knights hastened to drape the land Wherein he passed and graced And with each other for his honor vied. iii. But now, but now That colored throng is past: And like a film Another scene is set: And in the Port Group crews I see Working here and there Those carry cannon Those rock cut The others fare In framing a fresh bark: And from on high Jean La Valette Looks from a promontory. And then And then I saw a fort Burn down under the fire Of missiles thrown at it And ire Of the besieger: A breach in the walls And then another And then another The cannon-ball reft One after another All the punctured holes Into the fort Like gushes of knives Like the caverns of age Down oak trees. And then And then I heard a sudden sound When the fort fell Below Below In the summer heat The charred bodies putrefied And smelled. But then When the oppressing heat Of summer went And the frail breezes of September cooled The trees, and land and seas: I saw a happy crowd alight On the bastions Half-torn with cannon stress And high on high They waved the flag of victory. iv. And every day that followed I saw the throng of men Across their life to move And spin: Like silkworms to cocoons: And day and night And night and day Passed Passed Passed Under the Knights. And In the Port The navy of the Knights Withered and lingered In the ease of peace Without a war The grey years passed and turned And day and night And night and day Passed by, passed by. How many a Knight passed by In gaudy clothes all lover-like Unto his present lady: How many a prisoner Collapsed amidst the dungeons Where the sun light Was rare delight When the door opened: How many a lady gay I saw Now noble riding in sedans Now thick in winter dress Now light in summer clothes Is she: Now quick with child And all unmarried she! v. This passed. And then French Came o’er the horizon: How many a fight and skirmish I Saw in those days: And how red blood was shed And people saw I then With knives in them And cannon-ball Raise last their eyes To the fast-dimming skies vi. The British came And our island loved In peace and war With war and peace We throve: Yet time will come When separation comes In every love: And so The quiet separation came As is in every love. vii. And now And then Day follows night And Night the Day And Dawn and Dusk And in the Night The pale moon smiles And in the greyness Of the Dusk The red horizon turns Into a deep mantle of black: And day will follow night And night the day And dawn and dusk Will come and go: And we will rise And toil In our illusion And toil In our bubble That we ourselves blow: And toil Till weary in our illusion We try to rest At least we try We try To rest. And new mothers will Hold their new babes In hand And weep: And in the coffin When time comes The sexton leads And the priest chants And day will follow night And night the day. How that They came on stage And disappeared: And after them On the old stage New faces did appear And on and on The cycles goes The circle of life goeth.