The Search

When the hill grows green at midway time,
And bronze buds toss in the lane
It is sweet to follow the river swallow
Where the tiles are red from rain.

When the slanting wind shakes apple blossoms,
And the willow trees are bowed
The balcony banners flutter up
Where sails the hilltop cloud.

The balcony banners are ever the same
Wherever the heart may stray;
One sports the tiger and one the dragon
Whether you weep or play.

Where Little Boy Blue and the Knave of Hearts
And the Goose Girl dance on the green;
Where Knights in red and gold ride forth
Guarding the King and Queen;

Where the glint of swords is the only light
On a passing storm of men;
Or where the Furies rocking wait
For the world to die again;
Where horsemen ride by the winding river
Galloping in the quest:
One wears black and one wears yellow,
And one in red is dressed.

One fares in the flaunt of a scholar’s cloak,
And a velvet hat and plume;
Two ride with eyes fixed on the ground,
And one with a face of gloom.

One laughs at the others and laughs at himself,
Two think of themselves alone;
One sees a goal for his thirsting soul,
And life as a stepping stone.

They pass through a village where
Some boys are flying kites.
The people come with food and wine
To entertain the Knights.

And one takes bread and one takes cake,
Three drink a little wine.
And two drink for their heart’s delight,
And one for an anodyne.

And the Knight in red slips off to a tavern
And drinks him deep and strong,
And then he hurries to catch his fellows
And hails them with a song.

They come to a village that lay
Within a King’s domains:
The Knight in yellow takes his sword
And strikes away the chains.

They come to a place of festival
Through which there passed a hearse:
The Knight in black reins in his steed
To look thereon and curse.

They come to a hall of curious books
Under a mountain peak:
The Knight in the scholar’s cloak goes in
And talks with them in Greek.

And all the way by the winding river
By heaven’s breeze unfurled
The tiger banner and dragon banner
Flutter around the world.

As night drew down they come to a palace
Of laughter, lights and din.
Says the Knight in red, “I tarry here,
For I hear the violin.”

“Nay,” says the Knight in yellow dressed;
“Nay,” says the Knight in black;
“Nay,” says the scholar, “I sleep in the open
To study the Zodiac.”

Out comes to them an equerry
And sees their piteous dole:
“Come in,” says the ruddy equerry,
“And dine with Old King Cole.”

He seized their horses ere they could turn
And led them where candles shone,
And there with a crown tipped on his head
Sat the monarch on his throne.

“What is your name, all yellow dight,
And where does your sovereign reign?”
The sorrowful Knight then answered the King:
“I’m traveling back to Spain.”

“What is your name, all dressed in black,
And whither do you roam?”
“I was a mad prince they sent to England
And now I’m going home.”

“What is your name, in a scholar’s cloak,
And what is your heart’s joy?”
“I search through Europe night and day
For a spouse for Helen of Troy.”

“They’re as mad as hatters,” said King Cole
As he straightened his crown on his head.
“Go call in the fiddlers, bring my bowl,
Fetch me my pipe,” he said.

“But hold,” said Cole, “who are you, fellow,
“Now answer me fair and well?”
“I was born in France,” said the Knight in red,
“And my name’s Pantagruel.”

“That’s a good name,” laughed old King Cole.
“But whither are you bound?”
“I search for the Holy Bottle, King,
“And I pray it may be found.”

“That’s a true answer,” said Old King Cole,
“And here you shall abide;
“Come up to my throne and reign forever,
“And sit you by my side.”

“Away with the rest,” said Old King Cole,
“And fetch my bowl,” said he.
“Here is Pantagruel found at last,
“To keep me company.”

From under the throne he drew the bottle
And poured wine into the bowl;
Pantagruel stepped to the dais
And drank with Old King Cole.

“Give yellow and black and scholar’s cloak
A bed in the royal room.”
But Old King Cole and Pantagruel
Drank till the morning’s bloom.

They laughed and drank till the dawn was red,
While the sleepers prayed and wept.
They sang to the violins till day,
While black and yellow slept.

But Old King Cole, the merry old soul,
Was a curious soul as well:
“Who are these fellows,” queried he
Of his friend Pantagruel.

“Well, never ask me,” said Pantagruel,
“I met them down by the river;
“But whether they came from the Land of Lanterns
“They’re traveling on forever.”

They went to the room with a candle light
And looked in the face of the three--
“They’re a sorry lot,” said Old King Cole;
“They’re a sorry lot,” said he.

They held the candle to gray beard’s face,
And gray beard moaned in his rest.
And pricked in color of India ink
Was a windmill on his breast.

The other muttered “Life is a shadow,”
And his face was young and pale:
And pricked on his arm was a green serpent
Devouring its own tail.

The other sighed: “I still must struggle
And strive until I die.”
And over his heart was pricked the shape
Of a wingéd butterfly.

“What do I see,” said Old King Cole,
“Has the wine gone into my brain?
“Who’s Helen of Troy? Who’d leave England?
“And who’d return to Spain?”

Pantagruel and Old King Cole
Slip down the stairs in stealth,
They fill the bowl from the Holy Bottle
And drink each other’s health.

They stand at the window to watch the sun
And the mists of morning clear:
Three knights on horses climb the hill,
And silently disappear.

And yellow and black and scholar’s cloak
Into the light have gone;
And the tiger banner and dragon banner
Flutter against the dawn.

“There’s the dragon banner,” says Old King Cole,
“And the tiger banner,” he sighs.
Pantagruel breaks into a laugh,
As the monarch dries his eyes.