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diff --git a/old/12643.txt b/old/12643.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d543e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12643.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1314 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Twenty, by Stella Benson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Twenty + +Author: Stella Benson + +Release Date: June 17, 2004 [eBook #12643] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY*** + + +E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Susan Lucy, and Project Gutenberg +Distributed Proofreaders + + + +TWENTY + +BY + +STELLA BENSON + +Author of "This Is the End," "I Pose" + +1918 + + + + + + +PREFACE + + +Almost all the verses in this book have appeared before, the +majority of them included in two books, _I Pose_ and _This is +the End_. Messrs. Macmillan, who published these, have been kind +in raising no objection to re-publication. I have also to thank the +Editors of the _Athenaeum, Everyman_, and the _Pall Mall +Gazette_ for allowing me to reprint verses. + +The title of the book has no reference to the writer's age. + +S.B. + + + + + + +CONTENTS + PAGE + +CHRISTMAS, 1917 1 +THE SECRET DAY 3 +SONG 6 +THE ORCHARD 8 +THANKS TO MY WORLD FOR THE LOAN OF A FAIR DAY 11 +SONG 13 +WORDS 15 +REDNECK'S SONG 17 +TO THE UNBORN 19 +THE NEWER ZION 21 +TWO WOMEN SING 26 +THE WOMAN ALONE 28 +THE INEVITABLE 30 +THE DOG TUPMAN 32 +SAINT BRIDE 34 +THE SLAVE OF GOD 36 +TRUE PROMISES 40 +THE CORNISHMAN 43 +FIVE SMOOTH STONES 45 +NEW YEAR, 1918 51 + + + + + + + CHRISTMAS, 1917 + + + A key no thief can steal, no time can rust; + A faery door, adventurous and golden; + A palace, perfect to our eyes--Ah must + Our eyes be holden? + + Has the past died before this present sin? + Has this most cruel age already stoned + To martyrdom that magic Day, within + Those halls, enthroned? + + No. Through the dancing of the young spring rain, + Through the faint summer, and the autumn's burning, + Our still immortal Day has heard again + Our steps returning. + + + + + THE SECRET DAY + + + My yesterday has gone, has gone and left me tired, + And now to-morrow comes and beats upon the door; + So I have built To-day, the day that I desired, + Lest joy come not again, lest peace return no more, + Lest comfort come no more. + + So I have built To-day, a proud and perfect day, + And I have built the towers of cliffs upon the sands; + The foxgloves and the gorse I planted on my way; + The thyme, the velvet thyme, grew up beneath my hands, + Grew pink beneath my hands. + + So I have built To-day, more precious than a dream; + And I have painted peace upon the sky above; + And I have made immense and misty seas, that seem + More kind to me than life, more fair to me than love-- + More beautiful than love. + + And I have built a house--a house upon the brink + Of high and twisted cliffs; the sea's low singing fills it; + And there my Secret Friend abides, and there I think + I'll hide my heart away before to-morrow kills it-- + A cold to-morrow kills it. + + Yes, I have built To-day, a wall against To-morrow, + So let To-morrow knock--I shall not be afraid, + For none shall give me death, and none shall give me sorrow, + And none shall spoil this darling day that I have made. + No storm shall stir my sea. No night but mine shall shade + This day that I have made. + + + + + SONG + + + There is the track my feet have worn + By which my fate may find me: + From that dim place where I was born + Those footprints run behind me. + Uncertain was the trail I left, + For--oh, the way was stormy; + But now this splendid sea has cleft + My journey from before me. + + Three things the sea shall never end, + Three things shall mock its power: + My singing soul, my Secret Friend, + And this, my perfect hour. + And you shall seek me till you reach + The tangled tide advancing, + And you shall find upon the beach + The traces of my dancing, + And in the air the happy speech + Of Secret Friends romancing. + + + + + THE ORCHARD + + + I will repent me of my ways; + I will come here and bury + Five thousand odd superfluous days + Beneath a flow'ring cherry. + + Between a pear and a cherry tree + My temple I will enter-- + My place, where even I may be + The altar and the centre. + + One altar to a thousand aisles, + A hundred thousand arches ... + The loud lamb-choir about me files, + The bleating bishop marches, + + The congregation kneels and nods, + The bishop leads its praises, + So I'll pray too, to their dim gods + Whose feet are decked with daisies: + + _Ah, let me not grow old. Ah, let + Me not grow old, and falter + In my delusion, or forget + My heart was once an altar. + Let me still think myself a star + With these my rays about me; + Pretend these green perspectives are + All purposeless without me._ + + _Ah, bid the sun stand still. Ah, bid + The coming night retire, + And all the good I ever did + Shall feed your altar fire; + The hour shall stand and sing your praise, + The minute shall adore you, + And my ten thousand unborn days + I'll sacrifice before you._ + + _Gods of great joy, and little grief, + See--I will wear as token + A pear leaf and a cherry leaf + Until this pledge be broken_.... + + Between a pear and a cherry tree + A cold hand touched my shoulder-- + _Ah, my false gods have forsaken me, + I am a minute older_. + + + + + THANKS TO MY WORLD FOR THE LOAN OF A FAIR DAY + + + That day you wrought for me + Shone, and was ended. + Perfect your thought for me, + Whom you befriended. + Such joy was new to me-- + New, and most splendid, + More than was due to me. + More than was due to me. + + Though I do wrong to you, + Having no power, + Singing no song to you, + Bringing no flower, + Yet does my youth again + Thrill, for the hour + Cometh in truth again. + Cometh in truth again. + + I shall possess to-day + All I have wanted, + All I lacked yesterday + Now shall be granted. + No longer dumb to you, + Changed and enchanted, + Singing I'll come to you. + Singing I'll come to you. + + I will amass for you + Very great treasure. + Swift years shall pass for you + Dancing for pleasure. + Time shall be slave to me, + Giving--full measure-- + All that you gave to me. + All that you gave to me. + + + + + SONG + + + If I have dared to surrender some imitation of splendour, + Something I knew that was tender, something I loved that was brave, + If in my singing I showed songs that I heard on my road, + Were they not debts that I owed, rather than gifts that I gave? + + If certain hours on their climb up the long ladder of time + Turned my confusion to rhyme, drove me to dare an attempt, + If by fair chance I might seem sometimes abreast of my theme, + Was I translating a dream? Was it a dream that you dreamt? + + High and miraculous skies bless and astonish my eyes; + All my dead secrets arise, all my dead stories come true. + Here is the Gate to the Sea. Once you unlocked it for me; + Now, since you gave me the key, shall I unlock it for you? + + + + + WORDS + + + Oh words, oh words, and shall you rule + The world? What is it but the tongue + That doth proclaim a man a fool, + So that his best songs go unsung, + So that his dreams are sent to school + And all die young. + + There pass the trav'lling dreams, and these + My soul adores--my words condemn-- + Oh, I would fall upon my knees + To kiss their golden garments' hem, + Yet words do lie in wait to seize + And murder them. + + To-night the swinging stars shall plumb + The silence of the sky. And herds + Of plumed winds like huntsmen come + To hunt with dreams the restless birds. + To-night the moon shall strike you dumb, + Oh words, oh words.... + + + + + REDNECK'S SONG + + + These thirty years + Old men have filled my ears + With middle-aged ideas + That never have been young, + They made me wise. + I learnt to whitewash lies. + I learnt to shut my eyes, + And hold my tongue. + + Damned Philistine. + And was it then so fine + To learn to draw the line. + (Is there a line to draw?) + And must I then + For threescore years and ten + Worship the laws of men + Who worshipped law? + + Those laws are dust + To-day, and yet I must + Be faithful still, and trust + In what dead men did prove. + Magic may kill + Their wisdom and their will, + Yet I must follow still + Their path ... my groove.... + + + + + TO THE UNBORN + + + Oh, bend your eyes, nor send your glance about. + Oh, watch your feet, nor stray beyond the kerb. + Oh, bind your heart lest it find secrets out. + For thus no punishment + Of magic shall disturb + Your very great content. + + Oh, shut your lips to words that are forbidden. + Oh, throw away your sword, nor think to fight. + Seek not the best, the best is better hidden. + Thus need you have no fear, + No terrible delight + Shall cross your path, my dear. + + Call no man foe, but never love a stranger. + Build up no plan, nor any star pursue. + Go forth with crowds; in loneliness is danger. + Thus nothing God can send, + And nothing God can do + Shall pierce your peace, my friend. + + + + + THE NEWER ZION + + + When I achieve the chestnut joke of dying, + When I slip through that Gate at Kensal Green, + Shall I go spoil the fantasy by prying + Behind the staging of this darling scene? + + Shall I--a cast-off puppet--seek to study + The Showman who manipulates the strings, + The Hand that paints the western drop-scene ruddy, + The prosy truths of all these faery things? + + Shall I--self-conscious by a glassy ocean-- + Stammer strange songs amid an alien host? + Or shall I not, refusing such promotion, + Bequeath to London my contented ghost? + + I will come back to my Eternal City; + Her fogs once more my countenance shall dim; + I will enliven your austere committee + With gossip gleaned among the cherubim. + + By day I'll tread again the sounding mazes, + By night I'll track the moths about the Park; + My feet shall fall among the dusky daisies, + Nor break nor bruise a petal in the dark. + + I will repeat old inexpensive orgies; + Drink nectar at the bun-shop in Shoreditch, + Or call for Nut-Ambrosia at St. George's, + And with a ghost-tip make the waitress rich. + + My soundless feet shall fly among the runners + Through the red thunders of a Zeppelin raid, + My still voice cheer the Anti-Aircraft gunners, + The fires shall glare--but I shall cast no shade. + + And if a Shadow, wading in the torrent + Of high excitement, snatch me from the riot-- + (Fool that he is)--and fumble with his warrant, + And hail a hearse, and beg me to "Go quiet," + + Mocking I'll go, and he shall be postillion, + Until we reach the Keeper of the Door: + "H'm ... Benson ... Stella ... militant civilian ... + There's some mistake, we've had this soul before...." + + * * * * * * + + Ah, none shall keep my soul from this its Zion; + Lost in the spaces I shall hear and bless + The splendid voice of London, like a lion + Calling its lover in the wilderness. + + + + + TWO WOMEN SING + + FIRST WOMAN + + + Oh woman--woman--woman,-- + Shall I to woman be a friend? + I deal with man, and when I can + Reclaim with interest all I lend. + Who but a witless gambler plays + For farthing stakes these golden days? + No, woman--woman--woman-- + Must only play the game that pays. + + + + SECOND WOMAN + + + Oh woman--woman--woman,-- + To-morrow woman shall awake. + She shall arise, and realise + The goodly value of her stake. + And she shall lend her loan, and claim + Her rightful interest on the same. + So woman--woman--woman-- + Shall learn at last the paying game. + + + + + THE WOMAN ALONE + + + My eyes are girt with outer mists; + My ears sing shrill, and this I bless; + My finger-nails do bite my fists + In ecstasy of loneliness. + This I intend, and this I want, + That--passing--you may only mark + A dumb soul with its confidant + Entombed together in the dark. + + The hoarse church-bells of London ring; + The hoarser horns of London croak; + The poor brown lives of London cling + About the poor brown streets like smoke; + The deep air stands above my roof + Like water, to the floating stars. + My Friend and I--we sit aloof,-- + We sit and smile, and bind our scars. + + For you may wound and you may kill-- + It's such a little thing to die-- + Your cruel God may work his will, + We do not care, my Friend and I. + Though, at the gate of Paradise, + Peter the Saint withhold his keys, + My Friend and I--we have no eyes + For Heav'n or Hell--or dreams like these.... + + + + + THE INEVITABLE + + + _There is a sword, a fatal blade, + Unthwarted, subtle as the air, + And I could meet it unafraid + If I might only meet it fair. + Yet how I wonder why the Smith + Who wrought that steel of subtle grain + Should also be contented with + So blunt and mean a thing as pain_. + + The stars and fire-flies dance in rings. + The fire-flies set my heart alight, + Like fingers, writing magic things + In flame, upon the wall of night. + There is high meaning in the skies-- + (The stars and fire-flies--high and low--) + And all the spangled world is wise + With knowledge that I almost know. + + To-morrow I will don my cloak + Of opal-grey, and I will stand + Where the palm-shadows stride like smoke + Across the dazzle of the sand. + To-morrow I will throw this blind + Blind whiteness from my soul away, + And pluck this blackness from my mind, + And only leave the medium--grey. + + To-morrow I will cry for gains + Upon the blue and brazen sky. + The precious venom in my veins + To-morrow will be parched and dry. + To-morrow it shall be my goal + To throw myself away from me, + To lose the outline of my soul + Against the greyness of the sea. + + + + + THE DOG TUPMAN + + + Oh little friend of half my days, + My little friend, who followed me + Along those crooked sullen ways + That only you had eyes to see. + + You felt the same. You understood + You too, defensive and morose, + Encloaked your secret puppyhood-- + Your secret heart--and hid them close. + + For I alone have seen you serve, + Disciple of those early springs, + With ears awry and tail a-curve + You lost yourself in puppy things. + + And you saw me. You bore in mind + The clean and sunny things I felt + When, throwing hate along the wind, + I flashed the lantern at my belt. + + The moment passed, and we returned + To barren words and old cold truth, + Yet in our hearts our lanterns burned, + We two had seen each other's youth. + + When filthy pain did wrap me round + Your upright ears I always saw, + And on my outflung hand I found + The blessing of your horny paw; + + And yet--oh impotence of men-- + My paw, more soft but not more wise, + Old friend, was lacking to you when + You looked your crisis in the eyes.... + + You shared my youth, oh faithful friend, + You let me share your puppyhood; + So, if I failed you in the end, + My friend, my friend, you understood. + + + + + SAINT BRIDE + + + About your brow a starry wreath, + About your feet a wilderness, + Where young hot hopes grow cold beneath + The tangled bondage of the press. + Set like a saint within a niche-- + A strait and narrow niche--you hide, + And weave a veil about you, which + Can turn our steel, Saint Bride, Saint Bride. + + The eyes of coarse and pond'rous man + Are sceptic and satirical. + "_What, little saint, and still you scan + Old heaven for that miracle?_" + Oh heart deceived, yet harmed not, + Child-widow of a truth that died, + Bearer in mind of things forgot, + Bride of a dream, Saint Bride, Saint Bride. + + About you and about you thunders + The wise young public on its 'bus, + Exploding all your faery blunders, + Explaining neatly--"_Thus and thus + Hath science banished heaven now, + And see--your Groom is crucified--_" + On heaven's breast you lean your brow + And laugh, and love--Saint Bride, Saint Bride. + + + + + THE SLAVE OF GOD + + + The finest fruit God ever made + Hangs from the Tree of Heaven blue. + It hangs above the steel sea blade + That cuts the world's great globe in two. + + The keenest eye that ever saw + Stares out of Heaven into mine, + Spins out my heart, and seems to draw + My soul's elastic very fine. + + The greatest beacon ever fired + Stands up on Heaven's Hill to show + The limit of the thing desired, + Beyond which man may never go. + + * * * * * * + + At midnight, when the night did dance + Along the hours that led to morning, + I saw a little boat advance + Towards the great moon's beacon warning. + + (The moon, God's Slave, who lights her torch, + Lest men should slip between the bars, + And run aground on Heav'n, and scorch + To death upon a bank of stars.) + + The little boat, on leaning keel, + Sang up the mountains of the sea, + Bearing a man who hoped to steal + God's Slave from out eternity. + + + "_My love, I see you through my tears. + No pity in your face I see. + I have sailed far across the years: + Stretch out, stretch out your arms to me._ + + "_My love, I have an island seen, + So shadowed, God's most piercing star + Shall never see where we have been, + Shall never whisper where we are._ + + "_There we will wander, you and I, + Down guilty and delightful ways, + While palm-trees plait their fingers high + Against your God's enormous gaze._ + + "_For oh--the joy of two and two + Your Paradise shall never see, + The ecstasy of me and you, + The white delight of you and me._ + + "_I know the penalty--the clutch + Of God's great rocks upon my keel. + Drowned in the ocean of Too Much-- + So ends your thief--yet let me steal...._" + + The Slave of God she froze her face, + The Slave of God she paid no heed, + And, thund'ring down high Heaven's space, + Loud angels mocked the sailor's greed. + + The diamond sun arose, and tossed + A billion gems across the sea. + "_The Slave of God is lost, is lost, + The Slave of God is lost to me...._" + + He grounded on the common beach, + He trod the little towns of men, + And God removed from his reach + The cup of Heaven's passion then, + And gave him vulgar love and speech, + And gave him threescore years and ten. + + + + + TRUE PROMISES + + + You promised War and Thunder and Romance. + You promised true, but we were very blind + And very young, and in our ignorance + We never called to mind + That truth is seldom kind. + + You promised love, immortal as a star. + You promised true, yet how the truth can lie! + For now we grope for hands where no hands are, + And, deathless, still we cry, + Nor hope for a reply. + + You promised harvest and a perfect yield. + You promised true, for on the harvest morn, + Behold a reaper strode across the field, + And man of woman born + Was gathered in as corn. + + You promised honour and ordeal by flame. + You promised true. In joy we trembled lest + We should be found unworthy when it came; + But--oh--we never guessed + The fury of the test! + + You promised friends and songs and festivals. + You promised true. Our friends, who still are young, + Assemble for their feasting in those halls + Where speaks no human tongue. + And thus our songs are sung. + + + + + THE CORNISHMAN + + + At sunset, when the high sea span + About the rocks a web of foam, + I saw the ghost of a Cornishman + Come home. + I saw the ghost of a Cornishman + Run from the weariness of war, + I heard him laughing as he ran + Across his unforgotten shore. + The great cliff, gilded by the west, + Received him as an honoured guest. + The green sea, shining in the bay, + Did drown his dreadful yesterday. + + Come home, come home, you million ghosts, + The honest years shall make amends, + The sun and moon shall be your hosts, + The everlasting hills your friends. + And some shall seek their mothers' faces, + And some shall run to trysting places, + And some to towns, and others yet + Shall find great forests in their debt. + Oh, I would siege the golden coasts + Of space, and climb high heaven's dome, + So I might see those million ghosts + Come home. + + + + + FIVE SMOOTH STONES + + + It was young David, lord of sheep and cattle, + Pursued his fate, the April fields among, + Singing a song of solitary battle, + A loud mad song, for he was very young. + + Vivid the air--and something more than vivid,-- + Tall clouds were in the sky--and something more,-- + The light horizon of the spring was livid + With a steel smile that showed the teeth of war. + + It was young David mocked the Philistine. + It was young David laughed beside the river. + There came his mother--his and yours and mine-- + With five smooth stones, and dropped them in his quiver. + + You never saw so green-and-gold a fairy. + You never saw such very April eyes. + She sang him sorrow's song to make him wary, + She gave him five smooth stones to make him wise. + + _The first stone is love, and that shall fail you. + The second stone is hate, and that shall fail you. + The third stone is knowledge, and that shall fail you. + The fourth stone is prayer, and that shall fail you. + The fifth stone shall not fail you_. + + For what is love, O lovers of my tribe? + And what is love, O women of my day? + Love is a farthing piece, a bloody bribe + Pressed in the palm of God--and thrown away. + + And what is hate, O fierce and unforgiving? + And what shall hate achieve, when all is said? + A silly joke that cannot reach the living, + A spitting in the faces of the dead. + + And what is knowledge, O young men who tasted + The reddest fruit on that forbidden tree? + Knowledge is but a painful effort wasted, + A bitter drowning in a bitter sea. + + And what is prayer, O waiters for the answer? + And what is prayer, O seekers of the cause? + Prayer is the weary soul of Herod's dancer, + Dancing before blind kings without applause. + + The fifth stone is a magic stone, my David, + Made up of fear and failure, lies and loss. + Its heart is lead, and on its face is graved + A crooked cross, my son, a crooked cross. + + It has no dignity to lend it value; + No purity--alas, it bears a stain. + You shall not give it gratitude, nor shall you + Recall it all your days, except with pain. + + Oh, bless your blindness, glory in your groping! + Mock at your betters with an upward chin! + And when the moment has gone by for hoping, + Sling your fifth stone, O son of mine, and win. + + Grief do I give you, grief and dreadful laughter; + Sackcloth for banner, ashes in your wine. + Go forth, go forth, nor ask me what comes after; + The fifth stone shall not fail you, son of mine. + + GO FORTH, GO FORTH, AND SLAY THE PHILISTINE. + + + + + NEW YEAR, 1918 + + + A song I never heard + I must rehearse, + Counting each hour a word, + Counting each day a verse. + Not of my proper choice + Raise I my voice, + While others--fierce and strong-- + Raise theirs to drown my song. + + Must I then sing aloud, + Faint as a bird, + And, like a bird, be proud + To sing--to sing unheard? + Weary and very weak, + Shall I then seek + A hearing, idiot-wise, + From the unhearing skies? + + Drowning my whispered dreams, + Great voices cry. + They sing their songs, it seems, + With better heart than I. + Hush--I can hear Death sing-- + "_Here is my sting_." + And the Grave echo--"_See, + Here is my victory_" + + To-night the heavens bend + A little nearer. + The singer is my friend, + And I--at last--the hearer. + No more to sing alone + A song unknown,-- + Hush--very tense and thin, + The dawn-like notes begin. + + + * * * * * + + + + Crown 8vo. 6s. net. + + I POSE + + BY + + STELLA BENSON + + Sir Henry Lucy writes: "One of the brightest, most original, and + best-written books that have come my way for a long time." + + "Even the dullest can hardly fail to respond to the brilliant + humour of the book. As the mature work of an experienced author it + would have been a remarkable achievement; being 'the first book of + a new writer' it is an astonishing performance."--_Daily Graphic_. + + "This book is a fantasy, an absurdity, a dream charged with + purpose; it has wit and humour, and some deep feeling covered with + the gossamer of irresponsibility; it is an act of rebellion, an + edged complaint, a protest touched with flame.... There are + epigrams and sentences that read like a sob or a stab."--_ Daily + Chronicle._ + + "For its sheer cleverness the book is a delightful thing."--_Daily + News_. + + + LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. + + + + + Crown 8vo. 6s. net. + + THIS IS THE END + + BY + + STELLA BENSON + + "Miss Benson has a delicious sense of humour, and her way of + describing people and things is most refreshing. With her + sympathy, her realism, her wit and ability, it would seem that + Miss Benson's possibilities are limitless."--_The Bookman_. + + "In her second book she not only makes good, but betrays a + ripening talent."--_Daily Telegraph._ + + "The book shows one thing very clearly, that Miss Benson is a + force to be reckoned with."--_Pall Mall Gazette_. + + "It is the second step of a very brilliant beginning ... You will + be foolish if you miss this book."--_Punch_. + + "She has unusual originality, illuminating wit, deep feeling, and + a gift for startling epigram."--_Daily Graphic_. + + + LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY*** + + +******* This file should be named 12643.txt or 12643.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/4/12643 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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