The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
The Reed-playerDuncan Campbell Scott (18621947)
B
Took the last light of spring,
I went beyond the tumult, hearkening
For some diviner thing.
Over the ebon pool
Brooded the bittern’s cry, as one that grieves
Lands ancient, bountiful.
Above the shallows dank,
As Uriel from some great altitude,
The planets rank on rank.
One went under the hill;
He blew a cadence on his mellow reed,
That trembled and was still.
Had shot the gathered dusk,
As if had blown a wind from ancient Tyre
Laden with myrrh and musk.
Its enigmatic fall,
Haunted the hollow dusk with golden turn
And argent interval.
The springs of life from me
Hidden; his incommunicable lore
As much a mystery.
He passed the maple wood,
And when I passed the stars had risen there,
And there was solitude.