Mandragora/The Flute-player

by John Cowper Powys

ONCE I saw her. 'Twas long ago;
From the bridge of a dream-city.
Drops of rain were falling slow.
It was autumn and long ago;
And somewhere in the fields below
A flute-player played this ditty —
   One look and never the same again
   Are the roses on the wall;
   One look and forever the midnight rain
   With a different sound must fall.

Gables and gardens, roofs and towers,
Hung vague and rich and dim.
From somewhere there came a scent of flowers,
And a wind from the world's rim;
And the sun sank red behind the towers,
And she stood and looked at him.

She looked at him from a closed window,
Then at me did she look down.

It was autumn and very long ago,
And drops of rain kept falling slow
And a flute-player played on his flute below,
From the fields below the town.

And now they have told me so constantly
That the place was a city of dreams.
That my reason believes it; but in my heart,
In my heart most real it seems!
And thro' town and country I still must go
The shadowy roads along,
Seeing always that closed window
And hearing that flute-player's song.

And when the sun most rich and dim
Sinks down behind dark towers,
And there comes a wind from the world's rim
And from somewhere a scent of flowers—
I stand again on the bridge of that city
And hear that flute-player;
And my Love looks down on me in pity,
And I look back at her.

—One look and never the same again
⁠Are the roses on the wall;
⁠One look and forever the midnight rain
⁠With a different sound must fall!