Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

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DreamComeTrue



Within the eyes of Dream--Come--True
Shine the old dreams of my youth.
Ere they faded, ere they grew
Distant, they were born anew
In her truth.
Within the heart of Dream--Come--True
Lies my life, a folded bud.
All that is to hope and do,
Joy and triumph, toil and rue,
Skies of thunder, skies of blue,
Pulse in pulses of her blood.
O may the fountain leap in flood,
The young shoot branch in leafy wood,
Blest in promise through and through
By the dear thoughts of Dream--Come--True.

Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

First Day Of Summer



Sweetest of all delights are the vainest, merest;
Hours when breath is joy, for the breathing's sake.
Summer awoke this morning, and early awake
I rose refreshed, and gladly my eyes saluted
The entering beam of the sun that laughed his clearest.
I too laughed for pleasure, and vowed straightway
To stream and sun the flower of an idle day,
With summer sweetly enjoyed and friends well suited.

Merry were we, as stepping aboard we laid
The shaven oars in order; merry the leap
Of the oar, that grasped the water and stirred from sleep
A wave, to tremble past us in foamy rings.
With rhyming fall, and with bright returning blade
Impetuous music urges the rippling keel;
Softly our necks the flow of the breezes feel;
And blue, and thronged with birds, the morning sings....

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Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

First Day Of Winter



Like the bloom on a grape is the evening air
And a first faint frost the wind has bound.
Yet the fear of his breath avails to scare
The withered leaves on the cold ground.

For they huddle and whisper in phantom throngs,
I hear them beneath the branches bare:
We danced with the Wind, we sang his songs;
Now he pursues us, we know not where.

Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

Flower And Voice



Tremulous out of that long darkness, how
Wast thou, O blossom, made
Upon the wintry bough?
What drew thee to appear,
Like a thought in the mind,
Ignorant, unafraid,
And perfect?--Yet the wind
Blew on thee how sharp! how drear
The drops fell from the sudden--clouded spring!

Those delicate rare petals, all storm--thrilled,
Shone into recollection, when my ear
From a half--opened door was filled
With a voice singing; floating up to sing
A song, long ago from a heart's darkness born
And upon young lips born again;
A voice, flowering clear
In beauty stolen from the world of pain....

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Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

Glorous Heart



Swift and straight as homing dove,
Heedless, so its flight be flown,
All the full stream of thy love,
Love that knows no mortal bounding,
Pours, is emptied for its own,
Glorious Heart,
Great and loyal and abounding!

Over stormy waters eager
Lifted like a breasting prow,
Though the winds and waves beleaguer,
To one star thy true course guiding
Onward, ever onward, thou
Glorious Heart,
Steerest, hoping, well confiding.

When thy strength within thee faints,
When to grief the way is hard,...

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Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

Hide Me In Your Heart



Hide me in your heart, Love,
None but we can know
How with every heart--beat
Love could grow and grow

Till the seed that branched abroad,
How, we could not guess,
Holds us in the shadow
Of its boughs that bless;

And the stars and mountains,
Earth and chanting sea
Seem a mighty music
Sung to you and me;

Time--forgotten meaning,
Poured for us apart,...

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Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

How dark, how quiet sleeps the vale below!



How dark, how quiet sleeps the vale below!
In the dim farms, look, not a window shines:
Distantly heard among the lonely pines,
How soft the languid autumn breezes flow
Past me, and kiss my hair, and cheek, and mouth!
Half--veiled is the calm sky:
Jupiter's kingly eye
Alone glows full in the unclouded South.

Alas! and can sweet Night avail to heal
Not one of the world's wounds? Must I, even here,
Still listen with the mind's too wakeful ear
To that sad sound, which in my flesh I feel;
Sound of unresting, unrejoicing feet,
With feverish steps or slow
For ever, to and fro,
Pacing the gay, thronged, friendless, stony street?...

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Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

John Winter



What ails John Winter, that so oft
Silent he sits apart?
The neighbours cast their looks on him;
But deep he hides his heart.

In Deptford streets the houses small
Huddle forlorn together.
Whether the wind blow or be still,
'Tis soiled and sorry weather.

But over these dim roofs arise
Tall masts of ocean ships,
Whenever John Winter looked on them
The salt blew on his lips.

He cannot pace the street about,
But they stand before his eyes!...

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Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

Name, That Makes My Heart Beat



Name, that makes my heart beat,
Heard by chance in the throng'd street,
How delighted I turn to greet
The vision adored, the vision rare,
That surely should be where thou art spoken!
Alas, alas! it is not there:
Only hurrying faces stare,
Hard faces, in cold surprise,
Amazed at the joy that out of my eyes
Shines expectant, and then dies
Disappointed, the sweet spell broken!

Poems by Robert Laurence Binyon

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