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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eyes of Youth, by Various
+
+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: Eyes of Youth
+       A Book of Verse by Padraic Colum, Shane Leslie, A.O.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 9, 2006 [EBook #17735]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES OF YOUTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe.
+
+
+
+
+EYES OF YOUTH
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     A Book of Verse by Padraic Colum--Shane
+
+     Leslie--Viola Meynell--Ruth Lindsay--
+
+     Hugh Austin--Judith Lytton--Olivia
+
+     Meynell--Maurice Healy--Monica
+
+     Saleeby--Francis Meynell--With
+
+     four early Poems by Francis
+
+     Thompson, & a Foreword by
+
+     Gilbert K. Chesterton.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "He has eyes of youth,
+     he writes verses"
+
+     _The Merry Wives of Windsor_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     The four early poems of Francis Thompson are here published, for
+     the first time in book form, by the permission of his Literary
+     Executor.
+
+     We have also to thank the Editors of _The Station, The Tablet,
+     The Outlook, The New Age, The Westminster Gazette, The Evening
+     Standard, The Irish Rosary_ and _The Lamp_, for permission to
+     re-publish other Verses.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+G.K. CHESTERTON
+
+Foreword
+
+FRANCIS THOMPSON
+
+Threatened Tears
+Arab Love Song
+Buona Notte
+The Passion of Mary
+
+PADRAIC COLUM
+
+"I shall not die for you"
+An Idyll
+Christ the Comrade
+Arab Songs (I)
+Arab Songs (II)
+
+SHANE LESLIE
+
+A Dead Friend (J.S. 1905)
+Forest Song
+The Bee
+Outside the Carlton
+The Pater of the Cannon
+Fleet Street
+Nightmare
+To a Nobleman becoming Socialist
+St. George-in-the-East
+
+VIOLA MEYNELL
+
+The Ruin
+The Dream
+The Wanderer
+"Nature is the living mantle of God"
+Secret Prayer
+The Unheeded
+Dream of Death
+
+THE HON. MRS. LINDSAY
+
+Mater Salvatoris
+To Choose
+The Hunters
+
+HUGH AUSTIN
+
+The Astronomer's Prayer
+The Moon
+To Yvonne
+The Burial of Scald
+
+THE HON. MRS. LYTTON
+
+A Day Remembered
+Childhood
+Love in Idleness
+Love's Counterfeit
+
+OLIVIA MEYNELL
+
+A Grief without Christ
+The Crowning
+
+MAURICE HEALY
+
+In Memoriam
+A Ballad of Friendship
+In the Midst of Them
+Sic Transit
+
+MONICA SALEEBY
+
+Retrospect
+
+FRANCIS MEYNELL
+
+Any Stone
+Lux in Tenebris
+Mater Inviolata
+Song-burden
+Gifts
+Wraith
+A Dedication
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+My office on this occasion is one which I may well carry as lightly as
+possible. In our society, I am told, one needs an introduction to a
+beautiful woman; but I have never heard of men needing an introduction
+to a beautiful song. Prose before poetry is an unmeaning interruption;
+for poetry is perhaps the one thing in the world that explains itself.
+The only possible prelude for songs is silence; and I shall endeavour
+here to imitate the brevity of the silence as well as its stillness.
+
+This collection contains four new poems by one whom all serious critics
+now class with Shelley and Keats and those other great ones cut down
+with their work unfinished. Yet I would not speak specially of him,
+lest modern critics should run away with their mad notion of a one-man
+influence; and call this a "school" of Francis Thompson. Francis
+Thompson was not a schoolmaster. He would have said as freely as Whitman
+(and with a far more consistent philosophy), "I charge you to leave all
+free, as I have left all free." The modern world has this mania about
+plagiarism because the modern world cannot comprehend the idea of
+communion. It thinks that men must steal ideas; it does not understand
+that men may share them. The saints did not imitate each other; not
+always even study each other; they studied the Imitation of Christ.
+A real religion is that in which any two solitary people might suddenly
+say the same thing at any moment. It would therefore be most misleading
+to give to this collection an air of having been inspired by its most
+famous contributor. The little lyrics of this little book must surely
+be counted individual, even by those who may count them mysterious.
+A variety verging on quaintness is the very note of the assembled bards.
+
+Take, for example, Mr. Colum's stern and simple rendering of the bitter
+old Irish verses:
+
+     "O woman, shapely as the swan,
+     On your account I shall not die."
+
+Like Fitzgerald's Omar and all good translations, it leaves one
+wondering whether the original was as good; but to an Englishman the
+note is not only unique, but almost hostile. It is the hardness of the
+real Irishman which has been so skilfully hidden under the softness of
+the stage Irishman. The words are ages old, I believe; they come out of
+the ancient Ireland of Cairns and fallen Kings: and yet the words might
+have been spoken by one of Bernard Shaw's modern heroes to one of his
+modern heroines. The curt, bleak words, the haughty, heathen spirit are
+certainly as remote as anything can be from the luxuriant humility of
+Francis Thompson.
+
+If the writers have a real point of union it is in a certain instinct
+for contrast between their shape and subject matter. All the poems are
+brief in form, and at the same time big in topic. They remind us of the
+vivid illuminations of the virile thirteenth century, when artists
+crowded cosmic catastrophes into the corner of an initial letter; where
+one may find a small picture of the Deluge or of the flaming Cities of
+the Plain. One of the specially short poems sees the universe overthrown
+and the good angels conquered. Another short poem sees the newsboys in
+Fleet Street shouting the news of the end of the world, and the awful
+return of God. The writers seem unconsciously to have sought to make a
+poem as large as a revelation, while it was nearly as short as a riddle.
+And though Francis Thompson himself was rather in the Elizabethan
+tradition of amplitude and ingenuity, he could write separate lines that
+were separate poems in themselves:--
+
+     "And thou, what needest with thy tribe's black tents,
+     Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?"
+
+A mediaeval illuminator would have jumped out of his sandals in his
+eagerness to illustrate that.
+
+G.K. CHESTERTON.
+
+
+
+
+FRANCIS THOMPSON
+
+
+_THREATENED TEARS_
+
+Do not loose those rains thy wet
+Eyes, my Fair, unsurely threat;
+Do not, Sweet, do not so;
+Thou canst not have a single woe,
+But this sad and doubtful weatlier
+Overcasts us both together.
+In the aspect of those known eyes
+My soul's a captain weatherwise.
+Ah me! what presages it sees
+In those watery Hyades.
+
+
+_ARAB LOVE SONG_
+
+The hunchèd camels of the night*
+Trouble the bright
+And silver waters of the moon.
+The Maiden of the Morn will soon
+Through Heaven stray and sing,
+Star gathering.
+
+Now while the dark about our loves is strewn,
+Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come!
+And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb.
+
+Leave thy father, leave thy mother
+And thy brother;
+Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart!
+Am I not thy father and thy brother,
+And thy mother?
+
+And thou--what needest with thy tribe's black tents
+Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?
+
+* The cloud-shapes often observed by travellers in the East.
+
+
+_BUONA NOTTE_
+
+_Jane Williams, in her last letter to Shelley, wrote: "Why do you
+talk of never enjoying moments like the past? Are you going to join
+your friend Plato, or do you expect I shall do so soon? Buona
+Notte." This letter was dated July 6th, and Shelley was drowned on
+the 8th. The following is his imagined reply from, another world_:--
+
+Ariel to Miranda:--hear
+This good-night the sea-winds bear;
+And let thine unacquainted ear
+Take grief for their interpreter.
+
+Good-night; I have risen so high
+Into slumber's rarity,
+Not a dream can beat its feather
+Through the unsustaining ether.
+Let the sea-winds make avouch
+How thunder summoned me to couch,
+Tempest curtained me about
+And turned the sun with his own hand out:
+And though I toss upon my bed
+My dream is not disquieted;
+Nay, deep I sleep upon the deep,
+And my eyes are wet, but I do not weep;
+And I fell to sleep so suddenly
+That my lips are moist yet--could'st thou see
+With the good-night draught I have drunk to thee.
+Thou can'st not wipe them; for it was Death
+Damped my lips that has dried my breath.
+A little while--it is not long--
+The salt shall dry on them like the song.
+
+Now know'st thou, that voice desolate,
+Mourning ruined joy's estate,
+Reached thee through a closing gate.
+"Go'st thou to Plato?" Ah, girl, no!
+It is to Pluto that I go.
+
+
+_THE PASSION OF MARY_
+
+O Lady Mary, thy bright crown
+  Is no mere crown of majesty;
+For with the reflex of His own
+  Resplendent thorns Christ circled thee.
+
+The red rose of this passion tide
+  Doth take a deeper hue from thee,
+In the five Wounds of Jesus dyed,
+  And in Thy bleeding thoughts, Mary.
+
+The soldier struck a triple stroke
+  That smote thy Jesus on the tree;
+He broke the Heart of hearts, and broke
+  The Saint's and Mother's hearts in thee.
+
+Thy Son went up the Angels' ways,
+  His passion ended; but, ah me!
+Thou found'st the road of further days
+  A longer way of Calvary.
+
+On the hard cross of hopes deferred
+  Thou hung'st in loving agony,
+Until the mortal dreaded word,
+  Which chills our mirth, spake mirth to thee.
+
+The Angel Death from this cold tomb
+  Of life did roll the stone away;
+And He thou barest in thy womb
+  Caught thee at last into the day--
+Before the living throne of Whom
+  The lights of heaven burning pray.
+
+
+                   L'ENVOY.
+
+O thou who dwellest in the day,
+  Behold, I pace amidst the gloom:
+Darkness is ever round my way,
+  With little space for sunbeam room.
+
+Yet Christian sadness is divine,
+  Even as thy patient sadness was:
+The salt tears in our life's dark wine
+  Fell in it from the saving Cross.
+
+Bitter the bread of our repast;
+  Yet doth a sweet the bitter leaven:
+Our sorrow is the shadow cast
+  Around it by the light of Heaven.
+  O Light in light, shine down from Heaven!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PADRAIC COLUM
+
+
+"_I SHALL NOT DIE FOR YOU_"
+
+(From the Irish)
+
+O woman, shapely as the swan,
+  On your account I shall not die.
+The men you've slain--a trivial clan--
+  Were less than I.
+
+I ask me shall I die for these:
+  For blossom-teeth and scarlet lips?
+And shall that delicate swan-shape
+  Bring me eclipse?
+
+Well shaped the breasts and smooth the skin,
+  The cheeks are fair, the tresses free;
+And yet I shall not suffer death,
+  God over me.
+
+Those even brows, that hair like gold,
+  Those languorous tones, that virgin way;
+The flowing limbs, the rounded heel
+  Slight men betray.
+
+Thy spirit keen through radiant mien,
+  Thy shining throat and smiling eye,
+Thy little palm, thy side like foam--
+  I cannot die.
+
+O woman, shapely as the swan,
+  In a cunning house hard-reared was I;
+O bosom white, O well-shaped palm,
+  I shall not die.
+
+
+_AN IDYLL_
+
+You stay at last at my bosom, with your beauty
+  young and rare,
+Though your light limbs are as limber as the
+  foal's that follows the mare,
+Brow fair and young and stately where thought
+  has now begun--Hair
+bright as the breast of the eagle when he
+  strains up to the sun!
+
+In the space of a broken castle I found you on
+  a day
+When the call of the new-come cuckoo went
+  with me all the way.
+You stood by the loosened stones that were
+  rough and black with age:
+The fawn beloved of the hunter in the panther's
+  broken cage!
+
+And we went down together by paths your
+  childhood knew--
+Remote you went beside me, like the spirit of
+  the dew;
+Hard were the hedge-rows still: sloe-bloom
+  was their scanty dower--
+You slipped it within your bosom, the bloom
+  that scarce is flower.
+
+And now you stay at my bosom with you
+  beauty young and rare,
+Though your light limbs are as limber as the
+  foal's that follows the mare;
+But always I will see you on paths your childhood
+  knew,
+When remote you went beside me like the
+  spirit of the dew.
+
+
+_CHRIST THE COMRADE_
+
+Christ, by thine own darkened hour
+  Live within my heart and brain!
+  Let my hands not slip the rein.
+
+Ah, how long ago it is
+  Since a comrade rode with me!
+  Now a moment let me see
+
+Thyself, lonely in the dark,
+Perfect, without wound or mark.
+
+
+_ARAB SONGS (I)_
+
+Saadi the Poet stood up and he put forth his
+  living words.
+His songs were the hurtling of spears and
+  his figures the flashing of swords.
+With hearts dilated our tribe saw the creature
+  of Saadi's mind;
+It was like to the horse of a king, a creature
+  of fire and of wind.
+
+Umimah my loved one was by me: without
+  love did these eyes see my fawn,
+And if fire there were in her being, for me
+  its splendour had gone;
+When the sun storms up on the tent, he makes
+  waste the fire of the grass--
+It was thus with my loved one's beauty: the
+  splendour of song made it pass.
+
+The desert, the march, and the onset--these
+  and these only avail,
+Hands hard with the handling of spear-shafts,
+  brows white with the press of the mail!
+And as for the kisses of women--these are
+  honey, the poet sings;
+But the honey of kisses, beloved, it is lime
+  for the spirit's wings.
+
+
+_ARAB SONGS (II)_
+
+_The poet reproaches those who have affronted him_.
+
+Ye know not why God hath joined the horse
+  fly unto the horse
+Nor why the generous steed is yoked with
+  the poisonous fly:
+Lest the steed should sink into ease and lose
+  his fervour of nerve
+God hath appointed him this: a lustful and
+  venomous bride.
+
+Never supine lie they, the steeds of our folk,
+  to the sting,
+Praying for deadness of nerve, their wounds
+  the shame of the sun;
+They strive, but they strive for this: the fullness
+  of passionate nerve;
+They pant, but they pant for this: the speed
+  that outstrips the pain.
+
+Sons of the dust, ye have stung: there is
+  darkness upon my soul.
+Sons of the dust, ye have stung: yea, stung
+  to the roots of my heart.
+But I have said in my breast: the birth
+  succeeds to the pang,
+And sons of the dust, behold, your malice
+  becomes my song.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SHANE LESLIE
+
+
+_A DEAD FRIEND_ (_J.S._, 1905)
+
+I drew him then unto my knee, my friend who
+  was dead,
+And I set my live lips over his, and my heart
+  by his head.
+
+I thought of an unrippled love and a passion
+  unsaid,
+And the years he was living by me, my friend
+  who was dead;
+
+And the white morning ways that we went,
+  and how oft we had fed
+And drunk with the sunset for lamp--my friend
+  who was dead;
+
+Now never the draught at my lips would thrill
+  to my head--
+For the last vintage ebbed in my heart; my
+  friend he was dead.
+
+Then I spake unto God in my grief: My wine
+  and my bread
+And my staff Thou hast taken from me--my
+  friend who is dead.
+
+Are the heavens yet friendless to Thee, and
+  lone to Thy head,
+That Thy desolate heart must have need of my
+  friend who is dead?
+
+To God then I spake yet again: not Peter
+  instead
+Would I take, nor Philip nor John, for my
+  friend who is dead.
+
+
+_FOREST SONG_
+
+All around I heard the whispering larches
+  Swinging to the low-lipped wind;
+God, they piped, is lilting in our arches,
+  For He loveth leafen kind.
+
+Ferns I heard, unfolding from their slumber,
+  Say confiding to the reed:
+God well knoweth us, Who loves to number
+  Us and all our fairy seed.
+
+Voices hummed as of a multitude
+  Crowding from their lowly sod;
+'Twas the stricken daisies where I stood,
+  Crying to the daisies' God.
+
+
+_THE BEE_
+
+Away, the old monks said,
+Sweet honey-fly,
+From lilting overhead
+The lullaby
+You heard some mother croon
+Beneath the harvest moon.
+Go, hum it in the hive,
+The old monks said,
+For we were once alive
+Who now are dead.
+
+
+_OUTSIDE THE CARLTON_
+
+The death of the grey withered grass
+    Of man's is a sign,
+    And his life is as wine
+That is spilt from a half-shivered glass.
+    At a quarter to nine
+    Went Dives to dine ...
+(Man, it is said, is as grass.)
+
+Riches and plunder had met
+    To furnish his feast--
+    Both succulent beast
+And fish from the fisherman's net;
+    While he tasteth of dishes
+    And all his soul wishes--
+Nor knoweth his hour hath been set.
+
+The death of the pale-sodden hay
+    'Neath the feet of the kine
+    Is to man for a sign;
+At the striking of ten he was grey,
+    And they carried him out
+    Stiff-strangled with gout.
+(Man, it is said, is as hay.)
+
+
+_THE PATER OF THE CANNON_
+
+Father of the thunder,
+  Flinger of the flame,
+Searing stars asunder,
+  _Hallowed be Thy Name_!
+
+By the sweet-sung quiring
+  Sister bullets hum,
+By our fiercest firing,
+  _May Thy Kingdom come_!
+
+By Thy strong apostle
+  Of the Maxim gun,
+By his pentecostal
+  Flame, _Thy Will be done_!
+
+Give us, Lord, good feeding
+  To Thy battles sped--Flesh,
+white grained and bleeding,
+  _Give for daily bread_!
+
+
+_FLEET STREET_
+
+I never see the newsboys run
+  Amid the whirling street,
+  With swift untiring feet,
+To cry the latest venture done,
+But I expect one day to hear
+  Them cry the crack of doom
+  And risings from the tomb,
+With great Archangel Michael near;
+And see them running from the Fleet
+  As messengers of God,
+  With Heaven's tidings shod
+About their brave unwearied feet.
+
+
+_NIGHTMARE_
+
+I dreamt that the heavens were beggared
+  And angels went chanting for bread,
+And the cherubs were sewed up in sackcloth,
+  And Satan anointed his head.
+I dreamt they had chalked up a price
+  On the sun and the stars at God's feet,
+And the Devil had bought up the Church,
+  And put out the Pope in the street.
+
+
+_TO A NOBLEMAN BECOMING SOCIALIST_
+
+I do remember thee so blest and filled
+  With all life offered thee,
+Yet unsurprised I learn that thou hast willed
+  To share or lose her fee.
+
+It seems a very great and stalwart thing
+  To toss defence away,
+To tear the golden feathers from thy wing
+  And lie with shards of clay.
+
+To some far vision's light thine eyes are set
+  That mock life's treasure trove,
+And see the changing woof not woven yet
+  As God would have it wove.
+
+The red thou flauntest bravely, friend, for me
+  Hast lost alarming power;
+For who but guilty men will quake their knee,
+  And who but robbers cower?
+
+For many hallowed things are symbolled red,
+  Live fire and cleansing war,
+And the bright sealing Blood that Christ once shed,
+  And Martyrs yet must pour.
+
+O friend, choose one of these ourselves to link;
+  For how could friendship be
+If from the foaming cup thou hast to drink
+  The dregs come not to me?
+
+Dividing much, thou makest little thine
+  Except the gain of loss;
+Yet haply Christ's true peer hath better sign
+  Than coronet--the Cross.
+
+
+_ST. GEORGE-IN-THE-EAST_
+
+'Mid the quiet splendour of a pennoned crowd,
+          Gently proud,
+Moved in armour, silvered in celestial forge,
+          Great Saint George,
+Stands he in the crimson-woven air of fight
+          Speared with light--
+Hell is harried by the holy anger poured
+          From his sword.
+
+Where the sweated toilers of the river slum
+          Shiver dumb,
+Passed to-day a poorly clad and poorly shod
+          Knight of God;
+Where the human eddy smears with shame and rags
+          Paving flags,
+Hell shall weakly wail beneath the words he cries
+          Piteous-wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+VIOLA MEYNELL
+
+
+_THE RUIN_
+
+I led thy thoughts, having them for my own,
+  To where my God His head to thee did bend.
+I bore thee in my bosom to His throne.
+  O, the blest labour, and the treasured end!
+
+Now like a ruined aqueduct I go
+  Unburdened; thou by more fleet ways hast been
+With Him. Since thou thine own swift road dost know,
+  Thou canst not brook such slow and devious mean.
+
+
+_THE DREAM_
+
+I slept, and thought a letter came from you--
+  You did not love me any more, it said.
+What breathless grief!--my love not true, not true ...
+  I was afraid of people, and afraid
+Of things inanimate--the wind that blew,
+  The clock, the wooden chair; and so I strayed
+From home, but could not stray from grief, I knew.
+  And then at dawn I woke, and wept, and prayed,
+And knew my blessed love was still the same;--
+  And yet I sit and moan upon the bed
+For that dream-creature's loss. For when I came
+  (I came, perhaps, to comfort her) she fled.
+I would be with her where she wanders now,
+Fleeing the earth, with pain upon her brow.
+
+
+_THE WANDERER_
+
+All night my thoughts have rested in God's fold;
+  They lay beside me here upon the bed.
+At dawn I woke: the air beat sad and cold.
+  I told them o'er--Ah, God, one thought had fled.
+
+Into what dark, deep chasm this wayward one
+  Has sunk, I scarcely know; I will not chide.
+O Shepherd, leave me! Seek this lamb alone.
+  The ninety-nine are here. They will abide.
+
+
+"_NATURE IS THE LIVING MANTLE OF GOD_"--_GOETHE_
+
+O for the time when some impetuous breeze
+Will catch Thy garment, and, like autumn trees,
+Toss it and rend it till Thou standest free,
+And end Thy long secluded reverie!
+
+Still now its beauty folds Thee, and--as she
+Who kissed Thy garment and had health from Thee--
+I feel the sun, or hear some bird in bliss,
+And Thou hast then my sudden, humble kiss.
+
+
+_SECRET PRAYER_
+
+Since that with lips which moved in one we prayed,
+  So that God ceased to hear us speak apart,
+What law irrevocable have we made?
+  How shall He hear a solitary heart
+
+When He did need that we, to have His ear,
+  Should go aside and pray together there
+With urgent breath? Ah, now I pause and fear--
+  How shall uprise my lonely, separate prayer?
+
+
+_THE UNHEEDED_
+
+Upon one hand your kisses chanced to rest:
+I smiled upon the other hand and said
+"Poor thing," when you had gone: and then in quest
+Of pity rose a clamour from the dead--
+Some way of mine, some word, some look, some jest
+Complained they too went all uncoveted ...
+That night I took these troubles to my breast,
+And played that you and I, my own, were wed;
+Those troubles were our child, with eyes of fear,--
+A wailing babe, whom I, his mother dear,
+Must soothe to quiet rest and calm relief,
+And urge his eyes to sleeping by and by.
+"O hush," I said, and wept to see such grief;
+"Hush, hush, your father must not hear you cry."
+
+
+_DREAM OF DEATH_
+
+In sleep my idle thoughts were sadly led
+  By wild dark ways: it strangely seemed that I
+Must join the number of the silent dead,
+  And with my young and fearful heart must die.
+
+But ah, what drew my bitter moans and sighs,
+  And pierced my sleeping spirit, was that she
+Who with the saddest tears would close these eyes
+  And with maternal passion mourn for me,
+
+She on some pleasure-errand stayed away.
+  Ah, bitter, bitter thought! Ah, lonely death
+To seek me in the night! And not till day
+  Had come and soothed my fear, and calmed my breath,
+
+And in the sun my new life I could kiss,
+  And look with prayer and hope to future years,
+Did I discern God's mercy still in this--
+  That I was spared the anguish of her tears.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+RUTH TEMPLE LINDSAY
+
+
+_MATER SALVATORIS_
+
+Ah, wilt thou turn aside and see
+The little Child on Mary's knee?
+Enter the stable bleak and cold,
+Grope through the straw and myrrh and gold;
+Seek in the darkness near and far--
+Lift up the lantern and the Star.
+Rough shepherds came to love and greet,
+There knelt three kings at Mary's feet.
+Ah! draw thee nigh the holy place--
+He sleepeth well in her embrace,
+The little Saviour of thy race--
+Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.
+
+But wilt thou come in years to be?
+She held Him dead across her knee.
+Stretch Him aloft on planks of wood;
+Offer Him gall for tears and blood.
+Blazon thy hatred far and near:
+Lift up the hammer and the spear.
+Red thorns about his head were wound--
+There lay three nails upon the ground.
+Yea I Heed the Lover of thy race--
+He lieth dead in her embrace.
+Ah! scourge thy soul with its disgrace:
+Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.
+
+
+_TO CHOOSE_
+
+Thou canst choose the eastern Circle for thy part,
+  And within its sacred precincts thou shalt rest;
+  Thou shalt fold pale, slender hands upon thy breast,
+Thou shalt fasten silent eyes upon thy heart.
+If there steal within the languor of thine ark
+  The thunder of the waters of the earth,
+  The human, simple cries of pain and mirth,
+The wails of little children in the dark,
+Thou shalt contemplate thy Circle's radiant gleam,
+  Thou shalt gather self and God more closely still:
+  Let the Piteous and the Foolish moan at will,
+So thou shelter in the sweetness of thy dream.
+
+Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,
+  Thou shalt stand upon the common, human sod,
+  Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes unto thy God,
+Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west
+Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell--
+  Thou shalt gather all the answers of the Earth,
+  Thou shalt wring repose from weariness and dearth,
+Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell--
+But thy height shall touch the height of God above,
+  And thy breadth shall span the breadth of pole to pole,
+  And thy depth shall sound the depth of every soul,
+And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.
+
+
+_THE HUNTERS_
+
+"_The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about
+seeking whom he may detour_"
+
+The Lion, he prowleth far and near,
+  Nor swerves for pain or rue;
+He heeded nought of sloth nor fear,
+  He prowleth--prowleth through
+The silent glade and the weary street,
+  In the empty dark and the full noon heat;
+And a little Lamb with aching Feet--
+  He prowleth too.
+
+The Lion croucheth alert, apart--
+  With patience doth he woo;
+He waiteth long by the shuttered heart,
+  And the Lamb--He waiteth too.
+Up the lurid passes of dreams that kill,
+  Through the twisting maze of the great Untrue,
+The Lion followeth the fainting will--
+  And the Lamb--He followeth too.
+
+From the thickets dim of the hidden way
+  Where the debts of Hell accrue,
+The Lion leapeth upon his prey:
+  But the Lamb--He leapeth too.
+Ah! loose the leash of the sins that damn,
+  Mark Devil and God as goals,
+In the panting love of a famished Lamb,
+  Gone mad with the need of souls.
+
+The Lion, he strayeth near and far;
+  What heights hath he left untrod?
+He crawleth nigh to the purest star,
+  On the trail of the saints of God.
+And throughout the darkness of things unclean,
+  In the depths where the sin-ghouls brood,
+There prowleth ever with yearning mien--
+  A lamb as white as Blood!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HUGH AUSTIN
+
+
+_THE ASTRONOMERS PRAYER_
+
+Night. O Thou God! who rulest Heaven and earth,
+  The terraced atmospheres, the bounded seas;
+Who knowest equally both death and birth,
+  Frail human men, strong divine mysteries,
+Whose unencumbered thought sways all the spheres,
+  In all their turning, snake-like, perfect ways;
+Now that the season of my labour nears,
+  Grant me an insight to Thy larger days!
+
+To Thee all things create and unborn yield,
+  Being of Thee, the secret of their souls--
+The traversed elements, the azure field
+  Whereo'er eternal each huge star-world rolls.
+There is no tiny insect but does know
+  Itself within Thy Presence visual:
+From us too swiftly years and seasons go,
+  To Thee all change is a thing gradual.
+
+E'en as at nightfall, when the lights come in,
+  The moth attracted woos and meets her death,
+So do I seek Thy light to wander in,
+  Though fearfully and with half-bated breath.
+So do I seek all knowledge of Thy stars,
+  Which move in and without my vision's reach;
+Maybe yet burning with internal wars,
+  Or shaking as this world with human speech.
+
+Stars which perhaps ten thousand years ago
+  Waned and grew cold at Thy almighty word
+Waft their light hitherward. I do not know--
+  Thy recreating voice I have not heard.
+Maybe, e'en at this hour Thine accents shake
+  Some chaos into order, into life;
+Perchance some great creation now doth break
+  Into new form beneath Thy wisdom's knife.
+
+Ah, Lord! The night appals me. Give me strength
+  Within myself to search this planet's dome:
+O Supreme Architect, give me at length
+  Some clearer knowledge of Thy spaceless home!
+My spirit seethes within me; in the sky
+  Thy constellations shine; for me begin
+My labours until night-time passes by--
+  And before dawn I must or fail or win.
+
+
+_THE MOON_
+
+Cirqued with dim stars and delicate moonflowers,
+Silent she moves among the silent hours--
+Watching the spheres that glow with golden heat
+              Under her feet.
+
+Then, when the sunrise tints the east with light,
+She fades to westward, with the dreamy night
+And all her starry train--in faint disguise
+              Of twilight skies.
+
+
+_TO YVONNE_
+
+Such things have been, Yvonne; but you and I,
+  Can we touch lips again across the years?
+Re-order what is past? Forget--or try
+  Not to remember what through mists of tears
+Is still too memorable? Dare we two
+  Start both our lives again, as we were young
+And happy, in such love as falls to few?
+  Nay, for our violins are all unstrung.
+
+Yet it is well that memory should hold
+  Some few pale rose-leaves plucked in bygone days,
+That still are sweet, despite those pains untold
+  Which throng the marges of life's winding ways.
+Yea, these will stay when nearer things are gone;
+  I shall keep mine. Will you keep yours, Yvonne?
+
+
+_THE BURIAL OF SCALD_
+
+A long, low wail of harps across the snow,
+  Falling and rising with the whistling wind;
+A shifting glare of lights that come and go,
+  As if men searched for what they could not find.
+And then the music thrilled out loud and well
+  Over the waste and barren dunes of sand--
+Solemn and stately as a passing bell
+  Heard dimly in some weary twilight land.
+
+Then slipped the moon behind a dusky cloud,
+  And each bright star its silver visage hid;
+Mystery 'gan the darkness to enshroud;
+  Across the sky a blood-red message slid.
+
+Sudden the ship blazed up, the dark was light;
+  Lo! Scald is dead! his pyre was lit to-night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JUDITH LYTTON
+
+
+_A DAY REMEMBERED_
+
+Oh, Love, what fate is ours? No summer morning
+  Shall give us joy, no sunrise bring relief;
+No end--no end is there unto our sorrow,
+  No measure to our grief.
+
+You looked at me, and all your living beauty
+  Swept to my heart in flame a moment's space,
+A sudden mist of tears in darkness veiling
+  The glory of your face.
+
+You spoke: I seemed to hear the wild doves cooing--
+  The rain upon the hills, sweet falling rain;
+And all my soul was filled with joy and anguish,
+  In ecstasy of pain.
+
+I saw as in a mist celestial visions
+  Beyond the bitter seas whence hope has fled,
+Heard the wind blow among the trees in summer,
+  But knew not what you said.
+
+It matters not what words the lips have spoken
+  When heart shall speak to heart, for love can hear
+Unspoken words, and see as in reflection
+  His own thoughts mirrored there.
+
+You came to me, the sun arose in splendour;
+  I saw the roses spread their petals sweet,
+And thought that all the world must see in wonder
+  The wings upon our feet.
+
+You touched me, and a wave of passionate longing
+  Flooded my soul until it swooned away,
+And knew no more the sunlight from the shadow--
+  If it were night or day.
+
+We wandered in the shadow of the woodland,
+  Mute while we looked into each other's eyes,
+And saw as in still pools of darkened water
+  The wonder of the skies.
+
+No word we spoke. We knew that love had silenced
+  All that we wished to speak yet left unsaid;
+The bees were humming in the wild-rose blossoms
+  Which clustered overhead.
+
+And all that summer day we were together,
+  Alone with love, yet with a sword between--
+The flaming sword that stands between us ever,
+  And all that might have been.
+
+Mist gathered white at evening in the valleys,
+  And slowly grew the dusk from gold to grey,
+While rain-clouds gathered on the low horizon
+  Dark at the close of day.
+
+And softly rose a wind from out the darkness,
+  With scent of flower and fern and herb and tree,
+And in its breath there came a sound of thunder,
+  Storm-laden from the sea.
+
+And thus we reached the wicket of the garden;
+  The wood was full of sound, the sound of wings;
+The scent of lavender brought back remembrance
+  Of long-forgotten things.
+
+Though heaven and earth and sky should be forgotten,
+  Yet of that hour my soul should bear the trace:
+For night fell fast, and in the deepening shadow
+  You turned and kissed my face.
+
+
+_CHILDHOOD_
+
+A stranger come I to the festival
+Thou holdest in the regions of romance,
+Where dragons lurk and elfin spirits dance,
+And pearls lie hid within each rose petal.
+What magic changes in life's crystal ball
+Shall thus transform earth's dullness at thy glance!
+Ride then the wind, a feather for thy lance,
+A pool thy sea, thy heaven a waterfall.
+So shall thy soul to fairy worlds belong,
+Where dust is gold and dew-drops turn to wine;
+Remember still the visions that are thine
+When sorrow shall disperse that phantom throng;
+And dream once more that thou hast found divine
+Love in a flower, and kingdoms in a song.
+
+
+_LOVE IN IDLENESS_
+
+To look at thee, and see the sunlight move
+The shadow of the leaves upon thy face,
+Lighting the glory of thy youth and grace
+With golden rays wind-stirred from trees above;
+To listen to the rustling of the grove,
+The warblers in the reeds which interlace
+The waters of the pool, and dream a space,
+Forgetful of the hours ... this then is love!
+Thy passion and thy strength, thy gentleness,
+All these are mine. Who then shall dispossess
+My soul of paradise? In truth I learn
+More than the world can teach. Oblivion waits,
+And distance parts, and Death annihilates:
+But now thy love is all my love's concern.
+
+
+_LOVE'S COUNTERFEIT_
+
+By what false spell of what enchanter's wand
+Should thy gross fibre be with love allied?
+Unhappy youth, thou callest to thy side
+An unknown shade from some far spirit land;
+Thou canst not guess, nor shalt thou understand,
+The waters that thy soul from his divide.
+In place of Love, what alien spirits glide
+About thy sleep to answer thy command?
+What blasphemy is this? Thou hast no spell
+To call that heaven-born spirit from the deep,
+Or move the stars. What cometh in his place?
+This monstrous fraud which thou hast raised from hell,
+Whose arms about thee in the darkness creep?
+Light not thy torch, lest thou shouldst see
+his face.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+OLIVIA MEYNELL
+
+
+_A GRIEF WITHOUT CHRIST_
+
+I sought Him in the trees, and Him I found
+In every colour, and in every sound.
+
+I sought Him in the sky, and He was there,
+A living God, breathing the living air.
+
+I sought Him in my soul--oh, passionate loss!
+All that I found was a forsaken Cross.
+
+
+_THE CROWNING_
+
+Whenas we wandered in the summer hours,
+My kind love crowned me with a crown of flowers.
+
+Softly they touched my forehead and my hair;
+Gay, sunny, yellow, and sweet-breathed they were--
+
+Soft flowers and tender hands, gay sun, soft skies;
+And sweeter, tenderer yet, his loving eyes.
+
+Ah! but it should have been with thorns he crowned me,
+Who follow Christ, while cold skies blackened round me.
+
+Dear love, I will accept from you cold frown,
+Sharp words, hard touch, as symbols of His crown.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MAURICE HEALY
+
+
+_IN MEMORIAM_
+
+"Lord, teach us how to pray," they said;
+And Jesus raised His weary head,
+Bowed by the sorrows of the way,
+And taught His children how to pray.
+
+"Lord, teach me how to pray," I cried;
+And Jesus sent you to my side
+To make your own the soul I wear
+And mould it purer into prayer.
+
+And since your love first lit the way
+I find that I have learned to pray;
+For, that my soul may benefit,
+I pray that you may pray for it.
+
+
+_A BALLAD OF FRIENDSHIP_
+
+_for two most dear Children_
+
+Soured and dimmed and chilled with senility
+  Hobbled the year to its uttermost day;
+I gave the best of a slender ability,
+  Seeking to make a short afternoon gay.
+You were both claimed ere the sky was grey
+  Over the tips of the western towers;
+Yet, as you went, you had time to say,
+  "This is no stranger: we name him ours!"
+
+Slaves and serfs have woes in abundancy--
+  Clashing of manacle, whistling of thong,
+Tales of terror and tears to redundancy;
+  What is the score of my slavery's wrong?
+Surely where pleasures so freely throng
+  Some sad fiend of unhappiness lowers;
+Or is the refrain of Good Fortune's song,
+  "This is no stranger: we name him ours"?
+
+When you enfranchised me into your mystery,
+  Lovingly stealing the sorrows I had,
+Wisdom came with you; the old sad history
+  Glowed; and I knew in my heart why the sad
+And outcast Lord grew suddenly glad
+  As the children thronged to crown Him with flowers,
+When their cry was voiced by some tiny lad,
+  "This is no Stranger: we name Him ours!"
+
+                  L'ENVOI.
+
+So do I thank you; and if some day
+  You in your gained Paradisal bowers
+Hear me knocking, be bold to pray,
+  "This is no stranger: we claim him ours!"
+
+
+_IN THE MIDST OF THEM_
+
+     "_Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
+     Look on me, a little child.
+     Pity my simplicity
+     And suffer me to come to Thee_."
+
+Now prevails a creed which tells
+Us to seek no miracles.
+Reason by discovered lore
+Reigns where Faith was found before.
+God, Who set our world aspin,
+Now is weary of its din;
+He, Who for our fathers' sake
+Conjured lightning and earthquake,
+Vanquished sorrow, sickness, death,
+Deems we are not worth the Breath
+That blessed the trusting prophet's rod
+When Moses called upon his God.
+How dare _we_ expect Him give
+Miracles to help us live?
+
+Yet I build on Him Who saith,
+"Move the mountains with your faith"--
+Doubt the lips that falter, wan,
+"The age of miracles is gone!"
+I have learned to read the grim
+Testimony unto Him
+Printed with starvation's hand
+On every hove! through the land;
+I have swung the crazy door
+To find huddled on a floor
+Rat-gnawed and riddled, with never a clout
+To keep the eager winter out,
+Some six or seven of our kind
+Shivering beneath the wind,
+Foodless, fireless, hungry-eyed,
+Crouched round one who just had died,
+Hopeless that the dawn would bring
+Friendly aid and comforting.
+
+And after prayer for the parted soul,
+They have thanked the slender dole,
+And spoken of hope of days to come,
+And have forgotten their martyrdom.
+The anguished grief of motherhood
+Has firmly whispered "God is good
+And can in His Eternity
+Repay this present loss"; till I
+Have almost turned my head to see
+If Christ has not come in with me!
+
+     _Gentle Jesus, mild and meek,
+     These the simple words I speak
+     Are the faith Thou gavest me;
+     Suffer me to come to Thee!_
+
+
+_SIC TRANSIT_
+
+They camped in the meadow at sunrise,
+  And their crests gleamed bright in the sun,
+And the breeze that blew sighed soft, for it knew
+  Their fate e'er the day was done.
+They lay in the meadow at sunset,
+  As the sky in anger blushed red;
+For the host of the dawn lay still on the lawn--
+  The host was a host of dead.
+
+Let the gardener but pass his scythe o'er the grass--
+  And the life of a daisy is sped!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MONICA SALEEBY
+
+
+_RETROSPECT_
+
+You loved the child of fifteen years.
+  I knew not this vast thing.
+Your great heart shrank beneath your fears;
+  You left me wondering.
+
+Now fourteen years have passed us by;
+  Our souls meet once again;
+And, meeting, I have asked you why
+  Our ways apart have lain?
+
+And now your answer comes at last:--
+  "I loved you in that day."
+Oh, strange reply! Oh, tender past!
+  Oh, long love locked away!
+
+And now, yes, I have climbed Love's hill;
+My heart is bound, yet free.
+And is there not some young child still
+For you to love in me?
+
+You have the right to love her yet,
+  For he who loves me grown
+Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget;
+  I give her for your own.
+
+Oh, keep her young within your breast,
+  Allow her to survive;
+For love of you _I'll_ do my best
+  To keep your child alive.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FRANCIS MEYNELL
+
+
+_ANY STONE_
+
+A myriad years God toiled to mould
+  A nerveless stone to His intent--
+From peace to war, from heat to cold,
+  It triumphed against the Omnipotent:
+God strove until His strength grew old,
+  Then cried "Thy help, My firmament!"
+
+The stars in succour gave their light,
+  The aiding moon her ocean-sway;
+At dawn and dusk the hosts of night
+  Watched round the battle-fires of day ...
+To set the dust He loved aright
+  God called His winds to that array,
+
+And all the burden of the world,
+  And all the tears from all men's eyes,
+Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled,
+  The priest, the fire, the sacrifice,
+The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled--
+  Victor, He held as nought the price!
+
+Thus loved, thus wrought, God deemed the stone
+Fit bed for beasts to lie upon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+O God of Gods, make short my days
+  Of blind approach to her and Thee;
+Life-long upon Thy rugged ways
+  Her heart has danced: she calls to me.
+Hast Thou forgotten me alone,
+  O Watcher where the wild beast lies?--
+Mould to Thy will this other stone
+  --A stone, yet precious in her eyes.
+
+
+_LUX IN TENEBRIS_
+
+Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to me in the night,
+The golden moon aglow in your hair, and the spear-driven light
+Of an army of stars in your eyes, weary with truant sleep.
+O little skilled in self, who thought you came to weep!
+
+Out of the darkness, light; flame in the virgin dew!
+Love came unto her own, and knew him not, who knew.
+O understood! O known! O apprehended bliss!
+O self unskilled in self! O taught of my one kiss!
+
+
+_MATER INVIOLATA_
+
+A maiden's love most nuptial is,
+Innocent of his nuptial kiss;
+And only after marriage call
+Her lips, her passion, virginal!
+
+For when she dreams, who is beloved,
+The ancient miracle stands proved--
+Virginity's much Motherhood!
+For O, the unborn babes she keeps,
+The unthought glory, lips unwooed!--
+And O, the quickening of her sleeps
+Whose dreams, dreamed over, do repeat
+The echoes of Love's falling feet!
+For his, her young inviolate mouth
+Longs with the longing of long drouth:
+And, lacking substance for such feast,
+She clasps a dream-baby to breast,
+And kisses, where her head has place,
+The dream-lips of her love's dream-face!
+
+On the decked bridal bed of Night
+She knows the Moon shows maiden light--
+The Sun's kiss urged in marriage-rite!
+So, when her very night shall come,
+Virginal, in her virgin home
+When stars show unfamiliar faces,
+Laughing for love in their high places--
+When her essential lips are dumb
+In a thronged panic of embraces--
+Her maiden heart, her spousal breast,
+Shall throb, surrendered and possessed,
+Throb, passion-sweet and ungainsaid--
+"Now at the last am I a Maid!"
+
+
+_SONG-BURDEN_
+
+I do confess I have no art
+To tell the tale of my own heart.
+
+Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes,
+I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears;
+And if of these I make you wise,
+These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears,
+There is nought to do; I have played my part.
+
+And I, a captain of much guile,
+Within your ranks dissensions preach
+Till all are jealous, each of each--
+Your eyes, lips, heart, a tear, a smile!
+
+So, when you turn your eyes away
+From mirrored eyes, and when you stay
+Love-hearing with reluctant hand,
+Straight then your heart-throbs will betray
+That you have read, and understand!
+
+And should your maiden heart uprise
+Against fain ears and full-fain eyes,
+Upon your lips, that cannot err,
+I set my kiss-interpreter!
+
+Or hold you steadfast as allies
+Your heart, hand, lips, your smiles, your all,
+Your faithful eyes are traitrous eyes--
+Out-steals a tear to your downfall!
+
+Your heart, your eyes, the lips of you
+--Hesitant and full-fain your eyes!--
+Make all my song; have I sung true?
+Make all my song; are you song-wise?
+
+
+_GIFTS_
+
+My given gifts have been, ah me!
+Sorrow, and superfluity.
+
+You needed primal force, and this
+Was all my giving--emphasis.
+
+For your mute voice more mute I made,
+And at your singing proffered song;
+You trembled, and I was afraid--
+Were pierced, I fell on the same blade--
+Triumphed, and then my arm was strong.
+For peace I builded on your peace,
+And on your weakness mine up-piled;
+Of too fond hope I made increase,
+And at your smilings, as a child,
+Ignorant of their cost, I smiled.
+
+Always I fear at sight of fears,
+And always weep at weeping eyes;
+O my Belovéd, take my tears,
+Take my sighs!
+
+And these, and these, alas! shall be
+Sorrow, and superfluity.
+
+
+_WRAITH_
+
+Mine was not equal of her trust--
+  As whose, my friend, as whose should be?-And
+now, a panic dream of dust,
+  She comes to haunt the heart of me;
+
+She comes to haunt my heart for this,
+  And lo, a glory of my sighs!
+For still her phantom lips I kiss,
+  Who cannot meet her phantom eyes.
+
+
+_A DEDICATION_
+
+I took the universe for theme,
+  And all young eyes, and all old stars;
+A thousand angels of my dream
+  I sang, and a thousand of love's wars.
+
+Blind then my eyes, that now can see
+The narrowness of infinity!
+
+For these my songs sing but her eyes,
+  And all my song one star apart,
+One angel's dream-soliloquies,
+  One conquered, one triumphant, heart.
+
+Yea, one is all, and all is one;
+My songs, O love, are sung, and I have done.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+_By_ The Hon. Mrs. Lindsay
+            THE HERMIT OF DREAMS.
+            3s. 6d. net.
+
+_By_ Viola Meynell
+            MARTHA VINE: A Love Story of
+            Simple Life. 6s.
+
+_By_ Padraic Colum
+            WILD EARTH, 1s. net.
+
+_By_ Shane Leslie
+            SONGS OF ORIEL. 1s. net.
+            LOUGH DEARG. 1s. net.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eyes of Youth, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES OF YOUTH ***
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eyes of Youth, by Various
+
+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: Eyes of Youth
+       A Book of Verse by Padraic Colum, Shane Leslie, A.O.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 9, 2006 [EBook #17735]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES OF YOUTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe.
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<h1>EYES OF YOUTH</h1>
+
+<hr style='width: 35%;' />
+
+<p class="center">A Book of Verse by Padraic Colum&mdash;Shane</p>
+
+<p class="center">Leslie&mdash;Viola Meynell&mdash;Ruth Lindsay&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">Hugh Austin&mdash;Judith Lytton&mdash;Olivia</p>
+
+<p class="center">Meynell&mdash;Maurice Healy&mdash;Monica</p>
+
+<p class="center">Saleeby&mdash;Francis Meynell&mdash;With</p>
+
+<p class="center">four early Poems by Francis</p>
+
+<p class="center">Thompson, &amp; a Foreword by</p>
+
+<p class="center">Gilbert K. Chesterton.
+</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class="center">"He has eyes of youth,
+he writes verses"</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Merry Wives of Windsor</i>.
+</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p style="margin-left: 34%;">The four early poems of Francis<br />
+Thompson are here published,<br />
+for the first time in book form, by the<br />
+permission of his Literary Executor.</p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 34%;">We have also to thank the Editors<br />
+of <i>The Station, The Tablet, The Outlook,<br />
+The New Age, The Westminster<br />
+Gazette, The Evening Standard, The<br />
+Irish Rosary</i> and <i>The Lamp</i>, for permission<br />
+to re-publish other Verses.</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h4>CONTENTS</h4>
+<p class="center">
+G.K. CHESTERTON<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#FOREWORD" class="lnk">Foreword</a><br />
+<br />
+FRANCIS THOMPSON<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#Threatened_Tears" class="lnk">Threatened Tears</a><br />
+<a href="#Arab_Love_Song" class="lnk">Arab Love Song</a><br />
+<a href="#Buona_Notte" class="lnk">Buona Notte</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Passion_of_Mary" class="lnk">The Passion of Mary</a><br />
+<br />
+PADRAIC COLUM<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#I_shall_not_die_for_you" class="lnk">"I shall not die for you"</a><br />
+<a href="#An_Idyll" class="lnk">An Idyll</a><br />
+<a href="#Christ_the_Comrade" class="lnk">Christ the Comrade</a><br />
+<a href="#Arab_Songs_I" class="lnk">Arab Songs (I)</a><br />
+<a href="#Arab_Songs_II" class="lnk">Arab Songs (II)</a><br />
+<br />
+SHANE LESLIE<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#A_Dead_Friend" class="lnk">A Dead Friend (J.S. 1905)</a><br />
+<a href="#Forest_Song" class="lnk">Forest Song</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Bee" class="lnk">The Bee</a><br />
+<a href="#Outside_the_Carlton" class="lnk">Outside the Carlton</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Pater_of_the_Cannon" class="lnk">The Pater of the Cannon</a><br />
+<a href="#Fleet_Street" class="lnk">Fleet Street</a><br />
+<a href="#Nightmare" class="lnk">Nightmare</a><br />
+<a href="#To_a_Nobleman_becoming_Socialist" class="lnk">To a Nobleman becoming Socialist</a><br />
+<a href="#St_George-in-the-East" class="lnk">St. George-in-the-East</a><br />
+<br />
+VIOLA MEYNELL<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#The_Ruin" class="lnk">The Ruin</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Dream" class="lnk">The Dream</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Wanderer" class="lnk">The Wanderer</a><br />
+<a href="#Nature_is_the_living_mantle_of_God" class="lnk">"Nature is the living mantle of God"</a><br />
+<a href="#Secret_Prayer" class="lnk">Secret Prayer</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Unheeded" class="lnk">The Unheeded</a><br />
+<a href="#Dream_of_Death" class="lnk">Dream of Death</a><br />
+<br />
+THE HON. MRS. LINDSAY<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#Mater_Salvatoris" class="lnk">Mater Salvatoris</a><br />
+<a href="#To_Choose" class="lnk">To Choose</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Hunters" class="lnk">The Hunters</a><br />
+<br />
+HUGH AUSTIN<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#The_Astronomers_Prayer" class="lnk">The Astronomer's Prayer</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Moon" class="lnk">The Moon</a><br />
+<a href="#To_Yvonne" class="lnk">To Yvonne</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Burial_of_Scald" class="lnk">The Burial of Scald</a><br />
+<br />
+THE HON. MRS. LYTTON<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#A_Day_Remembered" class="lnk">A Day Remembered</a><br />
+<a href="#Childhood" class="lnk">Childhood</a><br />
+<a href="#Love_in_Idleness" class="lnk">Love in Idleness</a><br />
+<a href="#Loves_Counterfeit" class="lnk">Love's Counterfeit</a><br />
+<br />
+OLIVIA MEYNELL<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#A_Grief_without_Christ" class="lnk">A Grief without Christ</a><br />
+<a href="#The_Crowning" class="lnk">The Crowning</a><br />
+<br />
+MAURICE HEALY<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#In_Memoriam" class="lnk">In Memoriam</a><br />
+<a href="#A_Ballad_of_Friendship" class="lnk">A Ballad of Friendship</a><br />
+<a href="#In_the_Midst_of_Them" class="lnk">In the Midst of Them</a><br />
+<a href="#Sic_Transit" class="lnk">Sic Transit</a><br />
+<br />
+MONICA SALEEBY<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#Retrospect" class="lnk">Retrospect</a><br />
+<br />
+FRANCIS MEYNELL<br />
+<br />
+<a href="#Any_Stone" class="lnk">Any Stone</a><br />
+<a href="#Lux_in_Tenebris" class="lnk">Lux in Tenebris</a><br />
+<a href="#Mater_Inviolata" class="lnk">Mater Inviolata</a><br />
+<a href="#Song-burden" class="lnk">Song-burden</a><br />
+<a href="#Gifts" class="lnk">Gifts</a><br />
+<a href="#Wraith" class="lnk">Wraith</a><br />
+<a href="#A_Dedication" class="lnk">A Dedication</a><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+
+<h3><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></a>FOREWORD</h3>
+
+
+<p>My office on this occasion is one which I may well carry as lightly as
+possible. In our society, I am told, one needs an introduction to a
+beautiful woman; but I have never heard of men needing an introduction
+to a beautiful song. Prose before poetry is an unmeaning interruption;
+for poetry is perhaps the one thing in the world that explains itself.
+The only possible prelude for songs is silence; and I shall endeavour
+here to imitate the brevity of the silence as well as its stillness.</p>
+
+<p>This collection contains four new poems by one whom all serious critics
+now class with Shelley and Keats and those other great ones cut down
+with their work unfinished. Yet I would not speak specially of him, lest
+modern critics should run away with their mad notion of a one-man
+influence; and call this a "school" of Francis Thompson. Francis
+Thompson was not a schoolmaster. He would have said as freely as Whitman
+(and with a far more consistent philosophy), "I charge you to leave all
+free, as I have left all free." The modern world has this mania about
+plagiarism because the modern world cannot comprehend the idea of
+communion. It thinks that men must steal ideas; it does not understand
+that men may share them. The saints did not imitate each other; not
+always even study each other; they studied the Imitation of Christ. A
+real religion is that in which any two solitary people might suddenly
+say the same thing at any moment. It would therefore be most misleading
+to give to this collection an air of having been inspired by its most
+famous contributor. The little lyrics of this little book must surely be
+counted individual, even by those who may count them mysterious. A
+variety verging on quaintness is the very note of the assembled bards.</p>
+
+<p>Take, for example, Mr. Colum's stern and simple rendering of the bitter
+old Irish verses:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"O woman, shapely as the swan,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">On your account I shall not die."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Like Fitzgerald's Omar and all good translations, it leaves one
+wondering whether the original was as good; but to an Englishman the
+note is not only unique, but almost hostile. It is the hardness of the
+real Irishman which has been so skilfully hidden under the softness of
+the stage Irishman. The words are ages old, I believe; they come out of
+the ancient Ireland of Cairns and fallen Kings: and yet the words might
+have been spoken by one of Bernard Shaw's modern heroes to one of his
+modern heroines. The curt, bleak words, the haughty, heathen spirit are
+certainly as remote as anything can be from the luxuriant humility of
+Francis Thompson.</p>
+
+<p>If the writers have a real point of union it is in a certain instinct
+for contrast between their shape and subject matter. All the poems are
+brief in form, and at the same time big in topic. They remind us of the
+vivid illuminations of the virile thirteenth century, when artists
+crowded cosmic catastrophes into the corner of an initial letter; where
+one may find a small picture of the Deluge or of the flaming Cities of
+the Plain. One of the specially short poems sees the universe overthrown
+and the good angels conquered. Another short poem sees the newsboys in
+Fleet Street shouting the news of the end of the world, and the awful
+return of God. The writers seem unconsciously to have sought to make a
+poem as large as a revelation, while it was nearly as short as a riddle.
+And though Francis Thompson himself was rather in the Elizabethan
+tradition of amplitude and ingenuity, he could write separate lines that
+were separate poems in themselves:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"And thou, what needest with thy tribe's black tents,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>A mediaeval illuminator would have jumped out of his sandals in his
+eagerness to illustrate that.</p>
+
+<p>G.K. CHESTERTON.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FRANCIS_THOMPSON" id="FRANCIS_THOMPSON"></a>FRANCIS THOMPSON</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Threatened_Tears" id="Threatened_Tears"></a>Threatened Tears</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Do not loose those rains thy wet<br />
+Eyes, my Fair, unsurely threat;<br />
+Do not, Sweet, do not so;<br />
+Thou canst not have a single woe,<br />
+But this sad and doubtful weatlier<br />
+Overcasts us both together.<br />
+In the aspect of those known eyes<br />
+My soul's a captain weatherwise.<br />
+Ah me! what presages it sees<br />
+In those watery Hyades.<br />
+</p>
+
+<h5><i><a name="Arab_Love_Song" id="Arab_Love_Song"></a>Arab Love Song</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+The hunch&egrave;d camels of the night*<br />
+Trouble the bright<br />
+And silver waters of the moon.<br />
+The Maiden of the Morn will soon<br />
+Through Heaven stray and sing,<br />
+Star gathering.<br />
+<br />
+Now while the dark about our loves is strewn,<br />
+Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come!<br />
+And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb.<br />
+<br />
+Leave thy father, leave thy mother<br />
+And thy brother;<br />
+Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart!<br />
+Am I not thy father and thy brother,<br />
+And thy mother?<br />
+<br />
+And thou&mdash;what needest with thy tribe's black tents<br />
+Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="verse">* The cloud-shapes often observed by travellers in the East.</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Buona_Notte" id="Buona_Notte"></a>Buona Notte</i></h5>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Jane Williams, in her last letter to Shelley, wrote:
+"Why do you talk of never enjoying moments like
+the past? Are you going to join your friend Plato,
+or do you expect I shall do so soon? Buona Notte."
+This letter was dated July 6th, and Shelley was
+drowned on the 8th. The following is his imagined
+reply from, another world</i>:&mdash;</p></div>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Ariel to Miranda:&mdash;hear<br />
+This good-night the sea-winds bear;<br />
+And let thine unacquainted ear<br />
+Take grief for their interpreter.<br />
+<br />
+Good-night; I have risen so high<br />
+Into slumber's rarity,<br />
+Not a dream can beat its feather<br />
+Through the unsustaining ether.<br />
+Let the sea-winds make avouch<br />
+How thunder summoned me to couch,<br />
+Tempest curtained me about<br />
+And turned the sun with his own hand out:<br />
+And though I toss upon my bed<br />
+My dream is not disquieted;<br />
+Nay, deep I sleep upon the deep,<br />
+And my eyes are wet, but I do not weep;<br />
+And I fell to sleep so suddenly<br />
+That my lips are moist yet&mdash;could'st thou see<br />
+With the good-night draught I have drunk to thee.<br />
+Thou can'st not wipe them; for it was Death<br />
+Damped my lips that has dried my breath.<br />
+A little while&mdash;it is not long&mdash;<br />
+The salt shall dry on them like the song.<br />
+<br />
+Now know'st thou, that voice desolate,<br />
+Mourning ruined joy's estate,<br />
+Reached thee through a closing gate.<br />
+"Go'st thou to Plato?" Ah, girl, no!<br />
+It is to Pluto that I go.<br />
+</p>
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Passion_of_Mary" id="The_Passion_of_Mary"></a>The Passion of Mary</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+O Lady Mary, thy bright crown<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is no mere crown of majesty;</span><br />
+For with the reflex of His own<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Resplendent thorns Christ circled thee.</span><br />
+<br />
+The red rose of this passion tide<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doth take a deeper hue from thee,</span><br />
+In the five Wounds of Jesus dyed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in Thy bleeding thoughts, Mary.</span><br />
+<br />
+The soldier struck a triple stroke<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That smote thy Jesus on the tree;</span><br />
+He broke the Heart of hearts, and broke<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Saint's and Mother's hearts in thee.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thy Son went up the Angels' ways,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His passion ended; but, ah me!</span><br />
+Thou found'st the road of further days<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A longer way of Calvary.</span><br />
+<br />
+On the hard cross of hopes deferred<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou hung'st in loving agony,</span><br />
+Until the mortal dreaded word,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which chills our mirth, spake mirth to thee.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Angel Death from this cold tomb<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of life did roll the stone away;</span><br />
+And He thou barest in thy womb<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Caught thee at last into the day&mdash;</span><br />
+Before the living throne of Whom<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lights of heaven burning pray.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">L'ENVOY.</span><br />
+<br />
+O thou who dwellest in the day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Behold, I pace amidst the gloom:</span><br />
+Darkness is ever round my way,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With little space for sunbeam room.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet Christian sadness is divine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Even as thy patient sadness was:</span><br />
+The salt tears in our life's dark wine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fell in it from the saving Cross.</span><br />
+<br />
+Bitter the bread of our repast;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet doth a sweet the bitter leaven:</span><br />
+Our sorrow is the shadow cast<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around it by the light of Heaven.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Light in light, shine down from Heaven!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+
+<h3><a name="PADRAIC_COLUM" id="PADRAIC_COLUM"></a>PADRAIC COLUM</h3>
+
+
+<h5>"<i><a name="I_shall_not_die_for_you" id="I_shall_not_die_for_you"></a>I shall not die for you</i>"</h5>
+
+<p class="verse"><i>(From the Irish</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="verse">
+O woman, shapely as the swan,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On your account I shall not die.</span><br />
+The men you've slain&mdash;a trivial clan&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were less than I.</span><br />
+<br />
+I ask me shall I die for these:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For blossom-teeth and scarlet lips?</span><br />
+And shall that delicate swan-shape<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bring me eclipse?</span><br />
+<br />
+Well shaped the breasts and smooth the skin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cheeks are fair, the tresses free;</span><br />
+And yet I shall not suffer death,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God over me.</span><br />
+<br />
+Those even brows, that hair like gold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those languorous tones, that virgin way;</span><br />
+The flowing limbs, the rounded heel<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Slight men betray.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thy spirit keen through radiant mien,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy shining throat and smiling eye,</span><br />
+Thy little palm, thy side like foam&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I cannot die.</span><br />
+<br />
+O woman, shapely as the swan,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a cunning house hard-reared was I;</span><br />
+O bosom white, O well-shaped palm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I shall not die.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="An_Idyll" id="An_Idyll"></a>An Idyll</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+You stay at last at my bosom, with your beauty<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">young and rare,</span><br />
+Though your light limbs are as limber as the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">foal's that follows the mare,</span><br />
+Brow fair and young and stately where thought<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">has now begun&mdash;Hair</span><br />
+bright as the breast of the eagle when he<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">strains up to the sun!</span><br />
+<br />
+In the space of a broken castle I found you on<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a day</span><br />
+When the call of the new-come cuckoo went<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with me all the way.</span><br />
+You stood by the loosened stones that were<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">rough and black with age:</span><br />
+The fawn beloved of the hunter in the panther's<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">broken cage!</span><br />
+<br />
+And we went down together by paths your<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">childhood knew&mdash;</span><br />
+Remote you went beside me, like the spirit of<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the dew;</span><br />
+Hard were the hedge-rows still: sloe-bloom<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">was their scanty dower&mdash;</span><br />
+You slipped it within your bosom, the bloom<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">that scarce is flower.</span><br />
+<br />
+And now you stay at my bosom with you<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">beauty young and rare,</span><br />
+Though your light limbs are as limber as the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">foal's that follows the mare;</span><br />
+But always I will see you on paths your childhood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">knew,</span><br />
+When remote you went beside me like the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">spirit of the dew.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Christ_the_Comrade" id="Christ_the_Comrade"></a>Christ the Comrade</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Christ, by thine own darkened hour<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Live within my heart and brain!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let my hands not slip the rein.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah, how long ago it is<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since a comrade rode with me!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now a moment let me see</span><br />
+<br />
+Thyself, lonely in the dark,<br />
+Perfect, without wound or mark.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Arab_Songs_I" id="Arab_Songs_I"></a>Arab Songs (I)</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Saadi the Poet stood up and he put forth his<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">living words.</span><br />
+His songs were the hurtling of spears and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his figures the flashing of swords.</span><br />
+With hearts dilated our tribe saw the creature<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of Saadi's mind;</span><br />
+It was like to the horse of a king, a creature<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of fire and of wind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Umimah my loved one was by me: without<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">love did these eyes see my fawn,</span><br />
+And if fire there were in her being, for me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its splendour had gone;</span><br />
+When the sun storms up on the tent, he makes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">waste the fire of the grass&mdash;</span><br />
+It was thus with my loved one's beauty: the<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">splendour of song made it pass.</span><br />
+<br />
+The desert, the march, and the onset&mdash;these<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and these only avail,</span><br />
+Hands hard with the handling of spear-shafts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">brows white with the press of the mail!</span><br />
+And as for the kisses of women&mdash;these are<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">honey, the poet sings;</span><br />
+But the honey of kisses, beloved, it is lime<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">for the spirit's wings.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Arab_Songs_II" id="Arab_Songs_II"></a>Arab Songs (II)</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse"><i>The poet reproaches those who have affronted him</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Ye know not why God hath joined the horse<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">fly unto the horse</span><br />
+Nor why the generous steed is yoked with<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the poisonous fly:</span><br />
+Lest the steed should sink into ease and lose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his fervour of nerve</span><br />
+God hath appointed him this: a lustful and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">venomous bride.</span><br />
+<br />
+Never supine lie they, the steeds of our folk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to the sting,</span><br />
+Praying for deadness of nerve, their wounds<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the shame of the sun;</span><br />
+They strive, but they strive for this: the fullness<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of passionate nerve;</span><br />
+They pant, but they pant for this: the speed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">that outstrips the pain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sons of the dust, ye have stung: there is<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">darkness upon my soul.</span><br />
+Sons of the dust, ye have stung: yea, stung<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to the roots of my heart.</span><br />
+But I have said in my breast: the birth<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">succeeds to the pang,</span><br />
+And sons of the dust, behold, your malice<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">becomes my song.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="SHANE_LESLIE" id="SHANE_LESLIE"></a>SHANE LESLIE</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="A_Dead_Friend" id="A_Dead_Friend"></a>A Dead Friend</i> (<i>J.S.</i>, 1905)</h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I drew him then unto my knee, my friend who<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">was dead,</span><br />
+And I set my live lips over his, and my heart<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">by his head.</span><br />
+<br />
+I thought of an unrippled love and a passion<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">unsaid,</span><br />
+And the years he was living by me, my friend<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">who was dead;</span><br />
+<br />
+And the white morning ways that we went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and how oft we had fed</span><br />
+And drunk with the sunset for lamp&mdash;my friend<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">who was dead;</span><br />
+<br />
+Now never the draught at my lips would thrill<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to my head&mdash;</span><br />
+For the last vintage ebbed in my heart; my<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friend he was dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then I spake unto God in my grief: My wine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and my bread</span><br />
+And my staff Thou hast taken from me&mdash;my<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friend who is dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+Are the heavens yet friendless to Thee, and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">lone to Thy head,</span><br />
+That Thy desolate heart must have need of my<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friend who is dead?</span><br />
+<br />
+To God then I spake yet again: not Peter<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">instead</span><br />
+Would I take, nor Philip nor John, for my<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friend who is dead.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Forest_Song" id="Forest_Song"></a>Forest Song</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+All around I heard the whispering larches<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swinging to the low-lipped wind;</span><br />
+God, they piped, is lilting in our arches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For He loveth leafen kind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ferns I heard, unfolding from their slumber,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Say confiding to the reed:</span><br />
+God well knoweth us, Who loves to number<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Us and all our fairy seed.</span><br />
+<br />
+Voices hummed as of a multitude<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crowding from their lowly sod;</span><br />
+'Twas the stricken daisies where I stood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crying to the daisies' God.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Bee" id="The_Bee"></a>The Bee</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Away, the old monks said,<br />
+Sweet honey-fly,<br />
+From lilting overhead<br />
+The lullaby<br />
+You heard some mother croon<br />
+Beneath the harvest moon.<br />
+Go, hum it in the hive,<br />
+The old monks said,<br />
+For we were once alive<br />
+Who now are dead.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Outside_the_Carlton" id="Outside_the_Carlton"></a>Outside the Carlton</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+The death of the grey withered grass<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of man's is a sign,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And his life is as wine</span><br />
+That is spilt from a half-shivered glass.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At a quarter to nine</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Went Dives to dine ...</span><br />
+(Man, it is said, is as grass.)<br />
+<br />
+Riches and plunder had met<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To furnish his feast&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Both succulent beast</span><br />
+And fish from the fisherman's net;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While he tasteth of dishes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And all his soul wishes&mdash;</span><br />
+Nor knoweth his hour hath been set.<br />
+<br />
+The death of the pale-sodden hay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Neath the feet of the kine</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is to man for a sign;</span><br />
+At the striking of ten he was grey,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And they carried him out</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stiff-strangled with gout.</span><br />
+(Man, it is said, is as hay.)<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Pater_of_the_Cannon" id="The_Pater_of_the_Cannon"></a>The Pater of the Cannon</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Father of the thunder,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flinger of the flame,</span><br />
+Searing stars asunder,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Hallowed be Thy Name</i>!</span><br />
+<br />
+By the sweet-sung quiring<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sister bullets hum,</span><br />
+By our fiercest firing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>May Thy Kingdom come</i>!</span><br />
+<br />
+By Thy strong apostle<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the Maxim gun,</span><br />
+By his pentecostal<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flame, <i>Thy Will be done</i>!</span><br />
+<br />
+Give us, Lord, good feeding<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Thy battles sped&mdash;Flesh,</span><br />
+white grained and bleeding,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Give for daily bread</i>!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Fleet_Street" id="Fleet_Street"></a>Fleet Street</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I never see the newsboys run<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amid the whirling street,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With swift untiring feet,</span><br />
+To cry the latest venture done,<br />
+But I expect one day to hear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Them cry the crack of doom</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And risings from the tomb,</span><br />
+With great Archangel Michael near;<br />
+And see them running from the Fleet<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As messengers of God,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Heaven's tidings shod</span><br />
+About their brave unwearied feet.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Nightmare" id="Nightmare"></a>Nightmare</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I dreamt that the heavens were beggared<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And angels went chanting for bread,</span><br />
+And the cherubs were sewed up in sackcloth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Satan anointed his head.</span><br />
+I dreamt they had chalked up a price<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the sun and the stars at God's feet,</span><br />
+And the Devil had bought up the Church,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And put out the Pope in the street.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="To_a_Nobleman_becoming_Socialist" id="To_a_Nobleman_becoming_Socialist"></a>To a Nobleman becoming Socialist</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I do remember thee so blest and filled<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all life offered thee,</span><br />
+Yet unsurprised I learn that thou hast willed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To share or lose her fee.</span><br />
+<br />
+It seems a very great and stalwart thing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To toss defence away,</span><br />
+To tear the golden feathers from thy wing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lie with shards of clay.</span><br />
+<br />
+To some far vision's light thine eyes are set<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That mock life's treasure trove,</span><br />
+And see the changing woof not woven yet<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As God would have it wove.</span><br />
+<br />
+The red thou flauntest bravely, friend, for me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hast lost alarming power;</span><br />
+For who but guilty men will quake their knee,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And who but robbers cower?</span><br />
+<br />
+For many hallowed things are symbolled red,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Live fire and cleansing war,</span><br />
+And the bright sealing Blood that Christ once shed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Martyrs yet must pour.</span><br />
+<br />
+O friend, choose one of these ourselves to link;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For how could friendship be</span><br />
+If from the foaming cup thou hast to drink<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dregs come not to me?</span><br />
+<br />
+Dividing much, thou makest little thine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Except the gain of loss;</span><br />
+Yet haply Christ's true peer hath better sign<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than coronet&mdash;the Cross.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="St_George-in-the-East" id="St_George-in-the-East"></a>St. George-in-the-East</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+'Mid the quiet splendour of a pennoned crowd,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Gently proud,</span><br />
+Moved in armour, silvered in celestial forge,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Great Saint George,</span><br />
+Stands he in the crimson-woven air of fight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Speared with light&mdash;</span><br />
+Hell is harried by the holy anger poured<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">From his sword.</span><br />
+<br />
+Where the sweated toilers of the river slum<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Shiver dumb,</span><br />
+Passed to-day a poorly clad and poorly shod<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Knight of God;</span><br />
+Where the human eddy smears with shame and rags<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Paving flags,</span><br />
+Hell shall weakly wail beneath the words he cries<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Piteous-wise.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="VIOLA_MEYNELL" id="VIOLA_MEYNELL"></a>VIOLA MEYNELL</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Ruin" id="The_Ruin"></a>The Ruin</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I led thy thoughts, having them for my own,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To where my God His head to thee did bend.</span><br />
+I bore thee in my bosom to His throne.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, the blest labour, and the treasured end!</span><br />
+<br />
+Now like a ruined aqueduct I go<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unburdened; thou by more fleet ways hast been</span><br />
+With Him. Since thou thine own swift road dost know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou canst not brook such slow and devious mean.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Dream" id="The_Dream"></a>The Dream</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I slept, and thought a letter came from you&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You did not love me any more, it said.</span><br />
+What breathless grief!&mdash;my love not true, not true ...<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I was afraid of people, and afraid</span><br />
+Of things inanimate&mdash;the wind that blew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The clock, the wooden chair; and so I strayed</span><br />
+From home, but could not stray from grief, I knew.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then at dawn I woke, and wept, and prayed,</span><br />
+And knew my blessed love was still the same;&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet I sit and moan upon the bed</span><br />
+For that dream-creature's loss. For when I came<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(I came, perhaps, to comfort her) she fled.</span><br />
+I would be with her where she wanders now,<br />
+Fleeing the earth, with pain upon her brow.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Wanderer" id="The_Wanderer"></a>The Wanderer</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+All night my thoughts have rested in God's fold;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They lay beside me here upon the bed.</span><br />
+At dawn I woke: the air beat sad and cold.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I told them o'er&mdash;Ah, God, one thought had fled.</span><br />
+<br />
+Into what dark, deep chasm this wayward one<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has sunk, I scarcely know; I will not chide.</span><br />
+O Shepherd, leave me! Seek this lamb alone.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The ninety-nine are here. They will abide.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5>"<i><a name="Nature_is_the_living_mantle_of_God" id="Nature_is_the_living_mantle_of_God"></a>Nature is the living mantle of God</i>"
+<br />&mdash;<i>Goethe</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+O for the time when some impetuous breeze<br />
+Will catch Thy garment, and, like autumn trees,<br />
+Toss it and rend it till Thou standest free,<br />
+And end Thy long secluded reverie!<br />
+<br />
+Still now its beauty folds Thee, and&mdash;as she<br />
+Who kissed Thy garment and had health from Thee&mdash;<br />
+I feel the sun, or hear some bird in bliss,<br />
+And Thou hast then my sudden, humble kiss.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Secret_Prayer" id="Secret_Prayer"></a>Secret Prayer</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Since that with lips which moved in one we prayed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So that God ceased to hear us speak apart,</span><br />
+What law irrevocable have we made?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How shall He hear a solitary heart</span><br />
+<br />
+When He did need that we, to have His ear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should go aside and pray together there</span><br />
+With urgent breath? Ah, now I pause and fear&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How shall uprise my lonely, separate prayer?</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Unheeded" id="The_Unheeded"></a>The Unheeded</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Upon one hand your kisses chanced to rest:<br />
+I smiled upon the other hand and said<br />
+"Poor thing," when you had gone: and then in quest<br />
+Of pity rose a clamour from the dead&mdash;<br />
+Some way of mine, some word, some look, some jest<br />
+Complained they too went all uncoveted ...<br />
+That night I took these troubles to my breast,<br />
+And played that you and I, my own, were wed;<br />
+Those troubles were our child, with eyes of fear,&mdash;<br />
+A wailing babe, whom I, his mother dear,<br />
+Must soothe to quiet rest and calm relief,<br />
+And urge his eyes to sleeping by and by.<br />
+"O hush," I said, and wept to see such grief;<br />
+"Hush, hush, your father must not hear you cry."<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Dream_of_Death" id="Dream_of_Death"></a>Dream of Death</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+In sleep my idle thoughts were sadly led<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By wild dark ways: it strangely seemed that I</span><br />
+Must join the number of the silent dead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with my young and fearful heart must die.</span><br />
+<br />
+But ah, what drew my bitter moans and sighs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pierced my sleeping spirit, was that she</span><br />
+Who with the saddest tears would close these eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with maternal passion mourn for me,</span><br />
+<br />
+She on some pleasure-errand stayed away.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, bitter, bitter thought! Ah, lonely death</span><br />
+To seek me in the night! And not till day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had come and soothed my fear, and calmed my breath,</span><br />
+<br />
+And in the sun my new life I could kiss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And look with prayer and hope to future years,</span><br />
+Did I discern God's mercy still in this&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I was spared the anguish of her tears.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="RUTH_TEMPLE_LINDSAY" id="RUTH_TEMPLE_LINDSAY"></a>RUTH TEMPLE LINDSAY</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Mater_Salvatoris" id="Mater_Salvatoris"></a>Mater Salvatoris</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Ah, wilt thou turn aside and see<br />
+The little Child on Mary's knee?<br />
+Enter the stable bleak and cold,<br />
+Grope through the straw and myrrh and gold;<br />
+Seek in the darkness near and far&mdash;<br />
+Lift up the lantern and the Star.<br />
+Rough shepherds came to love and greet,<br />
+There knelt three kings at Mary's feet.<br />
+Ah! draw thee nigh the holy place&mdash;<br />
+He sleepeth well in her embrace,<br />
+The little Saviour of thy race&mdash;<br />
+Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.<br />
+<br />
+But wilt thou come in years to be?<br />
+She held Him dead across her knee.<br />
+Stretch Him aloft on planks of wood;<br />
+Offer Him gall for tears and blood.<br />
+Blazon thy hatred far and near:<br />
+Lift up the hammer and the spear.<br />
+Red thorns about his head were wound&mdash;<br />
+There lay three nails upon the ground.<br />
+Yea I Heed the Lover of thy race&mdash;<br />
+He lieth dead in her embrace.<br />
+Ah! scourge thy soul with its disgrace:<br />
+Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="To_Choose" id="To_Choose"></a>To Choose</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Thou canst choose the eastern Circle for thy part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And within its sacred precincts thou shalt rest;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt fold pale, slender hands upon thy breast,</span><br />
+Thou shalt fasten silent eyes upon thy heart.<br />
+If there steal within the languor of thine ark<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thunder of the waters of the earth,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The human, simple cries of pain and mirth,</span><br />
+The wails of little children in the dark,<br />
+Thou shalt contemplate thy Circle's radiant gleam,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt gather self and God more closely still:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let the Piteous and the Foolish moan at will,</span><br />
+So thou shelter in the sweetness of thy dream.<br />
+<br />
+Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt stand upon the common, human sod,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes unto thy God,</span><br />
+Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west<br />
+Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt gather all the answers of the Earth,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt wring repose from weariness and dearth,</span><br />
+Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell&mdash;<br />
+But thy height shall touch the height of God above,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thy breadth shall span the breadth of pole to pole,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thy depth shall sound the depth of every soul,</span><br />
+And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Hunters" id="The_Hunters"></a>The Hunters</i></h5>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about
+seeking whom he may detour</i>"</p></div>
+
+<p class="verse">
+The Lion, he prowleth far and near,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor swerves for pain or rue;</span><br />
+He heeded nought of sloth nor fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He prowleth&mdash;prowleth through</span><br />
+The silent glade and the weary street,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the empty dark and the full noon heat;</span><br />
+And a little Lamb with aching Feet&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He prowleth too.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Lion croucheth alert, apart&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With patience doth he woo;</span><br />
+He waiteth long by the shuttered heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Lamb&mdash;He waiteth too.</span><br />
+Up the lurid passes of dreams that kill,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the twisting maze of the great Untrue,</span><br />
+The Lion followeth the fainting will&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Lamb&mdash;He followeth too.</span><br />
+<br />
+From the thickets dim of the hidden way<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the debts of Hell accrue,</span><br />
+The Lion leapeth upon his prey:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the Lamb&mdash;He leapeth too.</span><br />
+Ah! loose the leash of the sins that damn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mark Devil and God as goals,</span><br />
+In the panting love of a famished Lamb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gone mad with the need of souls.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Lion, he strayeth near and far;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What heights hath he left untrod?</span><br />
+He crawleth nigh to the purest star,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the trail of the saints of God.</span><br />
+And throughout the darkness of things unclean,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the depths where the sin-ghouls brood,</span><br />
+There prowleth ever with yearning mien&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A lamb as white as Blood!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="HUGH_AUSTIN" id="HUGH_AUSTIN"></a>HUGH AUSTIN</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Astronomers_Prayer" id="The_Astronomers_Prayer"></a>The Astronomers Prayer</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Night. O Thou God! who rulest Heaven and earth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The terraced atmospheres, the bounded seas;</span><br />
+Who knowest equally both death and birth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frail human men, strong divine mysteries,</span><br />
+Whose unencumbered thought sways all the spheres,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In all their turning, snake-like, perfect ways;</span><br />
+Now that the season of my labour nears,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grant me an insight to Thy larger days!</span><br />
+<br />
+To Thee all things create and unborn yield,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Being of Thee, the secret of their souls&mdash;</span><br />
+The traversed elements, the azure field<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereo'er eternal each huge star-world rolls.</span><br />
+There is no tiny insect but does know<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Itself within Thy Presence visual:</span><br />
+From us too swiftly years and seasons go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Thee all change is a thing gradual.</span><br />
+<br />
+E'en as at nightfall, when the lights come in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moth attracted woos and meets her death,</span><br />
+So do I seek Thy light to wander in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though fearfully and with half-bated breath.</span><br />
+So do I seek all knowledge of Thy stars,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which move in and without my vision's reach;</span><br />
+Maybe yet burning with internal wars,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or shaking as this world with human speech.</span><br />
+<br />
+Stars which perhaps ten thousand years ago<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waned and grew cold at Thy almighty word</span><br />
+Waft their light hitherward. I do not know&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy recreating voice I have not heard.</span><br />
+Maybe, e'en at this hour Thine accents shake<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some chaos into order, into life;</span><br />
+Perchance some great creation now doth break<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into new form beneath Thy wisdom's knife.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah, Lord! The night appals me. Give me strength<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within myself to search this planet's dome:</span><br />
+O Supreme Architect, give me at length<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some clearer knowledge of Thy spaceless home!</span><br />
+My spirit seethes within me; in the sky<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy constellations shine; for me begin</span><br />
+My labours until night-time passes by&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And before dawn I must or fail or win.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Moon" id="The_Moon"></a>The Moon</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Cirqued with dim stars and delicate moonflowers,<br />
+Silent she moves among the silent hours&mdash;<br />
+Watching the spheres that glow with golden heat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Under her feet.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then, when the sunrise tints the east with light,<br />
+She fades to westward, with the dreamy night<br />
+And all her starry train&mdash;in faint disguise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Of twilight skies.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="To_Yvonne" id="To_Yvonne"></a>To Yvonne</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Such things have been, Yvonne; but you and I,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can we touch lips again across the years?</span><br />
+Re-order what is past? Forget&mdash;or try<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not to remember what through mists of tears</span><br />
+Is still too memorable? Dare we two<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Start both our lives again, as we were young</span><br />
+And happy, in such love as falls to few?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nay, for our violins are all unstrung.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet it is well that memory should hold<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some few pale rose-leaves plucked in bygone days,</span><br />
+That still are sweet, despite those pains untold<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which throng the marges of life's winding ways.</span><br />
+Yea, these will stay when nearer things are gone;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I shall keep mine. Will you keep yours, Yvonne?</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Burial_of_Scald" id="The_Burial_of_Scald"></a>The Burial of Scald</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+A long, low wail of harps across the snow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Falling and rising with the whistling wind;</span><br />
+A shifting glare of lights that come and go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if men searched for what they could not find.</span><br />
+And then the music thrilled out loud and well<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the waste and barren dunes of sand&mdash;</span><br />
+Solemn and stately as a passing bell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heard dimly in some weary twilight land.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then slipped the moon behind a dusky cloud,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And each bright star its silver visage hid;</span><br />
+Mystery 'gan the darkness to enshroud;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across the sky a blood-red message slid.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sudden the ship blazed up, the dark was light;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lo! Scald is dead! his pyre was lit to-night.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3>JUDITH LYTTON</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="A_Day_Remembered" id="A_Day_Remembered"></a>A Day Remembered</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Oh, Love, what fate is ours? No summer morning<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall give us joy, no sunrise bring relief;</span><br />
+No end&mdash;no end is there unto our sorrow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No measure to our grief.</span><br />
+<br />
+You looked at me, and all your living beauty<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swept to my heart in flame a moment's space,</span><br />
+A sudden mist of tears in darkness veiling<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The glory of your face.</span><br />
+<br />
+You spoke: I seemed to hear the wild doves cooing&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rain upon the hills, sweet falling rain;</span><br />
+And all my soul was filled with joy and anguish,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In ecstasy of pain.</span><br />
+<br />
+I saw as in a mist celestial visions<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beyond the bitter seas whence hope has fled,</span><br />
+Heard the wind blow among the trees in summer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But knew not what you said.</span><br />
+<br />
+It matters not what words the lips have spoken<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When heart shall speak to heart, for love can hear</span><br />
+Unspoken words, and see as in reflection<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His own thoughts mirrored there.</span><br />
+<br />
+You came to me, the sun arose in splendour;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I saw the roses spread their petals sweet,</span><br />
+And thought that all the world must see in wonder<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wings upon our feet.</span><br />
+<br />
+You touched me, and a wave of passionate longing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flooded my soul until it swooned away,</span><br />
+And knew no more the sunlight from the shadow&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If it were night or day.</span><br />
+<br />
+We wandered in the shadow of the woodland,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mute while we looked into each other's eyes,</span><br />
+And saw as in still pools of darkened water<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wonder of the skies.</span><br />
+<br />
+No word we spoke. We knew that love had silenced<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All that we wished to speak yet left unsaid;</span><br />
+The bees were humming in the wild-rose blossoms<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which clustered overhead.</span><br />
+<br />
+And all that summer day we were together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alone with love, yet with a sword between&mdash;</span><br />
+The flaming sword that stands between us ever,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all that might have been.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mist gathered white at evening in the valleys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And slowly grew the dusk from gold to grey,</span><br />
+While rain-clouds gathered on the low horizon<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dark at the close of day.</span><br />
+<br />
+And softly rose a wind from out the darkness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With scent of flower and fern and herb and tree,</span><br />
+And in its breath there came a sound of thunder,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Storm-laden from the sea.</span><br />
+<br />
+And thus we reached the wicket of the garden;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wood was full of sound, the sound of wings;</span><br />
+The scent of lavender brought back remembrance<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of long-forgotten things.</span><br />
+<br />
+Though heaven and earth and sky should be forgotten,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet of that hour my soul should bear the trace:</span><br />
+For night fell fast, and in the deepening shadow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You turned and kissed my face.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Childhood" id="Childhood"></a>Childhood</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+A stranger come I to the festival<br />
+Thou holdest in the regions of romance,<br />
+Where dragons lurk and elfin spirits dance,<br />
+And pearls lie hid within each rose petal.<br />
+What magic changes in life's crystal ball<br />
+Shall thus transform earth's dullness at thy glance!<br />
+Ride then the wind, a feather for thy lance,<br />
+A pool thy sea, thy heaven a waterfall.<br />
+So shall thy soul to fairy worlds belong,<br />
+Where dust is gold and dew-drops turn to wine;<br />
+Remember still the visions that are thine<br />
+When sorrow shall disperse that phantom throng;<br />
+And dream once more that thou hast found divine<br />
+Love in a flower, and kingdoms in a song.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Love_in_Idleness" id="Love_in_Idleness"></a>Love in Idleness</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+To look at thee, and see the sunlight move<br />
+The shadow of the leaves upon thy face,<br />
+Lighting the glory of thy youth and grace<br />
+With golden rays wind-stirred from trees above;<br />
+To listen to the rustling of the grove,<br />
+The warblers in the reeds which interlace<br />
+The waters of the pool, and dream a space,<br />
+Forgetful of the hours ... this then is love!<br />
+Thy passion and thy strength, thy gentleness,<br />
+All these are mine. Who then shall dispossess<br />
+My soul of paradise? In truth I learn<br />
+More than the world can teach. Oblivion waits,<br />
+And distance parts, and Death annihilates:<br />
+But now thy love is all my love's concern.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Loves_Counterfeit" id="Loves_Counterfeit"></a>Love's Counterfeit</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+By what false spell of what enchanter's wand<br />
+Should thy gross fibre be with love allied?<br />
+Unhappy youth, thou callest to thy side<br />
+An unknown shade from some far spirit land;<br />
+Thou canst not guess, nor shalt thou understand,<br />
+The waters that thy soul from his divide.<br />
+In place of Love, what alien spirits glide<br />
+About thy sleep to answer thy command?<br />
+What blasphemy is this? Thou hast no spell<br />
+To call that heaven-born spirit from the deep,<br />
+Or move the stars. What cometh in his place?<br />
+This monstrous fraud which thou hast raised from hell,<br />
+Whose arms about thee in the darkness creep?<br />
+Light not thy torch, lest thou shouldst see<br />
+his face.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="OLIVIA_MEYNELL" id="OLIVIA_MEYNELL"></a>OLIVIA MEYNELL</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="A_Grief_without_Christ" id="A_Grief_without_Christ"></a>A Grief without Christ</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I sought Him in the trees, and Him I found<br />
+In every colour, and in every sound.<br />
+<br />
+I sought Him in the sky, and He was there,<br />
+A living God, breathing the living air.<br />
+<br />
+I sought Him in my soul&mdash;oh, passionate loss!<br />
+All that I found was a forsaken Cross.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="The_Crowning" id="The_Crowning"></a>The Crowning</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Whenas we wandered in the summer hours,<br />
+My kind love crowned me with a crown of flowers.<br />
+<br />
+Softly they touched my forehead and my hair;<br />
+Gay, sunny, yellow, and sweet-breathed they were&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+Soft flowers and tender hands, gay sun, soft skies;<br />
+And sweeter, tenderer yet, his loving eyes.<br />
+<br />
+Ah! but it should have been with thorns he crowned me,<br />
+Who follow Christ, while cold skies blackened round me.<br />
+<br />
+Dear love, I will accept from you cold frown,<br />
+Sharp words, hard touch, as symbols of His crown.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="MAURICE_HEALY" id="MAURICE_HEALY"></a>MAURICE HEALY</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="In_Memoriam" id="In_Memoriam"></a>In Memoriam</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+"Lord, teach us how to pray," they said;<br />
+And Jesus raised His weary head,<br />
+Bowed by the sorrows of the way,<br />
+And taught His children how to pray.<br />
+<br />
+"Lord, teach me how to pray," I cried;<br />
+And Jesus sent you to my side<br />
+To make your own the soul I wear<br />
+And mould it purer into prayer.<br />
+<br />
+And since your love first lit the way<br />
+I find that I have learned to pray;<br />
+For, that my soul may benefit,<br />
+I pray that you may pray for it.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="A_Ballad_of_Friendship" id="A_Ballad_of_Friendship"></a>A Ballad of Friendship</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse"><i>for two most dear Children</i></p>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Soured and dimmed and chilled with senility<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hobbled the year to its uttermost day;</span><br />
+I gave the best of a slender ability,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seeking to make a short afternoon gay.</span><br />
+You were both claimed ere the sky was grey<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the tips of the western towers;</span><br />
+Yet, as you went, you had time to say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"This is no stranger: we name him ours!"</span><br />
+<br />
+Slaves and serfs have woes in abundancy&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clashing of manacle, whistling of thong,</span><br />
+Tales of terror and tears to redundancy;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What is the score of my slavery's wrong?</span><br />
+Surely where pleasures so freely throng<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some sad fiend of unhappiness lowers;</span><br />
+Or is the refrain of Good Fortune's song,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"This is no stranger: we name him ours"?</span><br />
+<br />
+When you enfranchised me into your mystery,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lovingly stealing the sorrows I had,</span><br />
+Wisdom came with you; the old sad history<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glowed; and I knew in my heart why the sad</span><br />
+And outcast Lord grew suddenly glad<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the children thronged to crown Him with flowers,</span><br />
+When their cry was voiced by some tiny lad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"This is no Stranger: we name Him ours!"</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 9em;">L'ENVOI.</span><br />
+<br />
+So do I thank you; and if some day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You in your gained Paradisal bowers</span><br />
+Hear me knocking, be bold to pray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"This is no stranger: we claim him ours!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="In_the_Midst_of_Them" id="In_the_Midst_of_Them"></a>In the Midst of Them</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"<i>Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Look on me, a little child.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Pity my simplicity</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>And suffer me to come to Thee</i>."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Now prevails a creed which tells<br />
+Us to seek no miracles.<br />
+Reason by discovered lore<br />
+Reigns where Faith was found before.<br />
+God, Who set our world aspin,<br />
+Now is weary of its din;<br />
+He, Who for our fathers' sake<br />
+Conjured lightning and earthquake,<br />
+Vanquished sorrow, sickness, death,<br />
+Deems we are not worth the Breath<br />
+That blessed the trusting prophet's rod<br />
+When Moses called upon his God.<br />
+How dare <i>we</i> expect Him give<br />
+Miracles to help us live?<br />
+<br />
+Yet I build on Him Who saith,<br />
+"Move the mountains with your faith"&mdash;<br />
+Doubt the lips that falter, wan,<br />
+"The age of miracles is gone!"<br />
+I have learned to read the grim<br />
+Testimony unto Him<br />
+Printed with starvation's hand<br />
+On every hove! through the land;<br />
+I have swung the crazy door<br />
+To find huddled on a floor<br />
+Rat-gnawed and riddled, with never a clout<br />
+To keep the eager winter out,<br />
+Some six or seven of our kind<br />
+Shivering beneath the wind,<br />
+Foodless, fireless, hungry-eyed,<br />
+Crouched round one who just had died,<br />
+Hopeless that the dawn would bring<br />
+Friendly aid and comforting.<br />
+<br />
+And after prayer for the parted soul,<br />
+They have thanked the slender dole,<br />
+And spoken of hope of days to come,<br />
+And have forgotten their martyrdom.<br />
+The anguished grief of motherhood<br />
+Has firmly whispered "God is good<br />
+And can in His Eternity<br />
+Repay this present loss"; till I<br />
+Have almost turned my head to see<br />
+If Christ has not come in with me!<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="verse">
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Gentle Jesus, mild and meek,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>These the simple words I speak</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Are the faith Thou gavest me;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Suffer me to come to Thee!</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Sic_Transit" id="Sic_Transit"></a>Sic Transit</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+They camped in the meadow at sunrise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And their crests gleamed bright in the sun,</span><br />
+And the breeze that blew sighed soft, for it knew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their fate e'er the day was done.</span><br />
+They lay in the meadow at sunset,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the sky in anger blushed red;</span><br />
+For the host of the dawn lay still on the lawn&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The host was a host of dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let the gardener but pass his scythe o'er the grass&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the life of a daisy is sped!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="MONICA_SALEEBY" id="MONICA_SALEEBY"></a>MONICA SALEEBY</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Retrospect" id="Retrospect"></a>Retrospect</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+You loved the child of fifteen years.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I knew not this vast thing.</span><br />
+Your great heart shrank beneath your fears;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You left me wondering.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now fourteen years have passed us by;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our souls meet once again;</span><br />
+And, meeting, I have asked you why<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our ways apart have lain?</span><br />
+<br />
+And now your answer comes at last:&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I loved you in that day."</span><br />
+Oh, strange reply! Oh, tender past!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, long love locked away!</span><br />
+<br />
+And now, yes, I have climbed Love's hill;<br />
+My heart is bound, yet free.<br />
+And is there not some young child still<br />
+For you to love in me?<br />
+<br />
+You have the right to love her yet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he who loves me grown</span><br />
+Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I give her for your own.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, keep her young within your breast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Allow her to survive;</span><br />
+For love of you <i>I'll</i> do my best<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To keep your child alive.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<h3><a name="FRANCIS_MEYNELL" id="FRANCIS_MEYNELL"></a>FRANCIS MEYNELL</h3>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Any_Stone" id="Any_Stone"></a>Any Stone</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+A myriad years God toiled to mould<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A nerveless stone to His intent&mdash;</span><br />
+From peace to war, from heat to cold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It triumphed against the Omnipotent:</span><br />
+God strove until His strength grew old,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then cried "Thy help, My firmament!"</span><br />
+<br />
+The stars in succour gave their light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The aiding moon her ocean-sway;</span><br />
+At dawn and dusk the hosts of night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watched round the battle-fires of day ...</span><br />
+To set the dust He loved aright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God called His winds to that array,</span><br />
+<br />
+And all the burden of the world,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all the tears from all men's eyes,</span><br />
+Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The priest, the fire, the sacrifice,</span><br />
+The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Victor, He held as nought the price!</span><br />
+<br />
+Thus loved, thus wrought, God deemed the stone<br />
+Fit bed for beasts to lie upon.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="vers" />
+
+<p class="verse">
+O God of Gods, make short my days<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of blind approach to her and Thee;</span><br />
+Life-long upon Thy rugged ways<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her heart has danced: she calls to me.</span><br />
+Hast Thou forgotten me alone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Watcher where the wild beast lies?&mdash;</span><br />
+Mould to Thy will this other stone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&mdash;A stone, yet precious in her eyes.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Lux_in_Tenebris" id="Lux_in_Tenebris"></a>Lux in Tenebris</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to me in the night,<br />
+The golden moon aglow in your hair, and the spear-driven light<br />
+Of an army of stars in your eyes, weary with truant sleep.<br />
+O little skilled in self, who thought you came to weep!<br />
+<br />
+Out of the darkness, light; flame in the virgin dew!<br />
+Love came unto her own, and knew him not, who knew.<br />
+O understood! O known! O apprehended bliss!<br />
+O self unskilled in self! O taught of my one kiss!<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Mater_Inviolata" id="Mater_Inviolata"></a>Mater Inviolata</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+A maiden's love most nuptial is,<br />
+Innocent of his nuptial kiss;<br />
+And only after marriage call<br />
+Her lips, her passion, virginal!<br />
+<br />
+For when she dreams, who is beloved,<br />
+The ancient miracle stands proved&mdash;<br />
+Virginity's much Motherhood!<br />
+For O, the unborn babes she keeps,<br />
+The unthought glory, lips unwooed!&mdash;<br />
+And O, the quickening of her sleeps<br />
+Whose dreams, dreamed over, do repeat<br />
+The echoes of Love's falling feet!<br />
+For his, her young inviolate mouth<br />
+Longs with the longing of long drouth:<br />
+And, lacking substance for such feast,<br />
+She clasps a dream-baby to breast,<br />
+And kisses, where her head has place,<br />
+The dream-lips of her love's dream-face!<br />
+<br />
+On the decked bridal bed of Night<br />
+She knows the Moon shows maiden light&mdash;<br />
+The Sun's kiss urged in marriage-rite!<br />
+So, when her very night shall come,<br />
+Virginal, in her virgin home<br />
+When stars show unfamiliar faces,<br />
+Laughing for love in their high places&mdash;<br />
+When her essential lips are dumb<br />
+In a thronged panic of embraces&mdash;<br />
+Her maiden heart, her spousal breast,<br />
+Shall throb, surrendered and possessed,<br />
+Throb, passion-sweet and ungainsaid&mdash;<br />
+"Now at the last am I a Maid!"<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Song-burden" id="Song-burden"></a>Song-burden</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I do confess I have no art<br />
+To tell the tale of my own heart.<br />
+<br />
+Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes,<br />
+I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears;<br />
+And if of these I make you wise,<br />
+These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears,<br />
+There is nought to do; I have played my part.<br />
+<br />
+And I, a captain of much guile,<br />
+Within your ranks dissensions preach<br />
+Till all are jealous, each of each&mdash;<br />
+Your eyes, lips, heart, a tear, a smile!<br />
+<br />
+So, when you turn your eyes away<br />
+From mirrored eyes, and when you stay<br />
+Love-hearing with reluctant hand,<br />
+Straight then your heart-throbs will betray<br />
+That you have read, and understand!<br />
+<br />
+And should your maiden heart uprise<br />
+Against fain ears and full-fain eyes,<br />
+Upon your lips, that cannot err,<br />
+I set my kiss-interpreter!<br />
+<br />
+Or hold you steadfast as allies<br />
+Your heart, hand, lips, your smiles, your all,<br />
+Your faithful eyes are traitrous eyes&mdash;<br />
+Out-steals a tear to your downfall!<br />
+<br />
+Your heart, your eyes, the lips of you<br />
+&mdash;Hesitant and full-fain your eyes!&mdash;<br />
+Make all my song; have I sung true?<br />
+Make all my song; are you song-wise?<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Gifts" id="Gifts"></a>Gifts</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+My given gifts have been, ah me!<br />
+Sorrow, and superfluity.<br />
+<br />
+You needed primal force, and this<br />
+Was all my giving&mdash;emphasis.<br />
+<br />
+For your mute voice more mute I made,<br />
+And at your singing proffered song;<br />
+You trembled, and I was afraid&mdash;<br />
+Were pierced, I fell on the same blade&mdash;<br />
+Triumphed, and then my arm was strong.<br />
+For peace I builded on your peace,<br />
+And on your weakness mine up-piled;<br />
+Of too fond hope I made increase,<br />
+And at your smilings, as a child,<br />
+Ignorant of their cost, I smiled.<br />
+<br />
+Always I fear at sight of fears,<br />
+And always weep at weeping eyes;<br />
+O my Belov&eacute;d, take my tears,<br />
+Take my sighs!<br />
+<br />
+And these, and these, alas! shall be<br />
+Sorrow, and superfluity.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="Wraith" id="Wraith"></a>Wraith</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+Mine was not equal of her trust&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As whose, my friend, as whose should be?-And</span><br />
+now, a panic dream of dust,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She comes to haunt the heart of me;</span><br />
+<br />
+She comes to haunt my heart for this,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lo, a glory of my sighs!</span><br />
+For still her phantom lips I kiss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who cannot meet her phantom eyes.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h5><i><a name="A_Dedication" id="A_Dedication"></a>A Dedication</i></h5>
+
+<p class="verse">
+I took the universe for theme,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all young eyes, and all old stars;</span><br />
+A thousand angels of my dream<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I sang, and a thousand of love's wars.</span><br />
+<br />
+Blind then my eyes, that now can see<br />
+The narrowness of infinity!<br />
+<br />
+For these my songs sing but her eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all my song one star apart,</span><br />
+One angel's dream-soliloquies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One conquered, one triumphant, heart.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yea, one is all, and all is one;<br />
+My songs, O love, are sung, and I have done.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 95%;" />
+
+<p class="verse">
+<i>By</i> The Hon. Mrs. Lindsay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">THE HERMIT OF DREAMS.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">3s. 6d. net.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>By</i> Viola Meynell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">MARTHA VINE: A Love Story of</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Simple Life. 6s.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>By</i> Padraic Colum<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">WILD EARTH, 1s. net.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>By</i> Shane Leslie<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">SONGS OF ORIEL. 1s. net.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">LOUGH DEARG. 1s. net.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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diff --git a/17735.txt b/17735.txt
new file mode 100644
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+++ b/17735.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,1994 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eyes of Youth, by Various
+
+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: Eyes of Youth
+       A Book of Verse by Padraic Colum, Shane Leslie, A.O.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 9, 2006 [EBook #17735]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES OF YOUTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe.
+
+
+
+
+EYES OF YOUTH
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     A Book of Verse by Padraic Colum--Shane
+
+     Leslie--Viola Meynell--Ruth Lindsay--
+
+     Hugh Austin--Judith Lytton--Olivia
+
+     Meynell--Maurice Healy--Monica
+
+     Saleeby--Francis Meynell--With
+
+     four early Poems by Francis
+
+     Thompson, & a Foreword by
+
+     Gilbert K. Chesterton.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "He has eyes of youth,
+     he writes verses"
+
+     _The Merry Wives of Windsor_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     The four early poems of Francis Thompson are here published, for
+     the first time in book form, by the permission of his Literary
+     Executor.
+
+     We have also to thank the Editors of _The Station, The Tablet,
+     The Outlook, The New Age, The Westminster Gazette, The Evening
+     Standard, The Irish Rosary_ and _The Lamp_, for permission to
+     re-publish other Verses.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+G.K. CHESTERTON
+
+Foreword
+
+FRANCIS THOMPSON
+
+Threatened Tears
+Arab Love Song
+Buona Notte
+The Passion of Mary
+
+PADRAIC COLUM
+
+"I shall not die for you"
+An Idyll
+Christ the Comrade
+Arab Songs (I)
+Arab Songs (II)
+
+SHANE LESLIE
+
+A Dead Friend (J.S. 1905)
+Forest Song
+The Bee
+Outside the Carlton
+The Pater of the Cannon
+Fleet Street
+Nightmare
+To a Nobleman becoming Socialist
+St. George-in-the-East
+
+VIOLA MEYNELL
+
+The Ruin
+The Dream
+The Wanderer
+"Nature is the living mantle of God"
+Secret Prayer
+The Unheeded
+Dream of Death
+
+THE HON. MRS. LINDSAY
+
+Mater Salvatoris
+To Choose
+The Hunters
+
+HUGH AUSTIN
+
+The Astronomer's Prayer
+The Moon
+To Yvonne
+The Burial of Scald
+
+THE HON. MRS. LYTTON
+
+A Day Remembered
+Childhood
+Love in Idleness
+Love's Counterfeit
+
+OLIVIA MEYNELL
+
+A Grief without Christ
+The Crowning
+
+MAURICE HEALY
+
+In Memoriam
+A Ballad of Friendship
+In the Midst of Them
+Sic Transit
+
+MONICA SALEEBY
+
+Retrospect
+
+FRANCIS MEYNELL
+
+Any Stone
+Lux in Tenebris
+Mater Inviolata
+Song-burden
+Gifts
+Wraith
+A Dedication
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+My office on this occasion is one which I may well carry as lightly as
+possible. In our society, I am told, one needs an introduction to a
+beautiful woman; but I have never heard of men needing an introduction
+to a beautiful song. Prose before poetry is an unmeaning interruption;
+for poetry is perhaps the one thing in the world that explains itself.
+The only possible prelude for songs is silence; and I shall endeavour
+here to imitate the brevity of the silence as well as its stillness.
+
+This collection contains four new poems by one whom all serious critics
+now class with Shelley and Keats and those other great ones cut down
+with their work unfinished. Yet I would not speak specially of him,
+lest modern critics should run away with their mad notion of a one-man
+influence; and call this a "school" of Francis Thompson. Francis
+Thompson was not a schoolmaster. He would have said as freely as Whitman
+(and with a far more consistent philosophy), "I charge you to leave all
+free, as I have left all free." The modern world has this mania about
+plagiarism because the modern world cannot comprehend the idea of
+communion. It thinks that men must steal ideas; it does not understand
+that men may share them. The saints did not imitate each other; not
+always even study each other; they studied the Imitation of Christ.
+A real religion is that in which any two solitary people might suddenly
+say the same thing at any moment. It would therefore be most misleading
+to give to this collection an air of having been inspired by its most
+famous contributor. The little lyrics of this little book must surely
+be counted individual, even by those who may count them mysterious.
+A variety verging on quaintness is the very note of the assembled bards.
+
+Take, for example, Mr. Colum's stern and simple rendering of the bitter
+old Irish verses:
+
+     "O woman, shapely as the swan,
+     On your account I shall not die."
+
+Like Fitzgerald's Omar and all good translations, it leaves one
+wondering whether the original was as good; but to an Englishman the
+note is not only unique, but almost hostile. It is the hardness of the
+real Irishman which has been so skilfully hidden under the softness of
+the stage Irishman. The words are ages old, I believe; they come out of
+the ancient Ireland of Cairns and fallen Kings: and yet the words might
+have been spoken by one of Bernard Shaw's modern heroes to one of his
+modern heroines. The curt, bleak words, the haughty, heathen spirit are
+certainly as remote as anything can be from the luxuriant humility of
+Francis Thompson.
+
+If the writers have a real point of union it is in a certain instinct
+for contrast between their shape and subject matter. All the poems are
+brief in form, and at the same time big in topic. They remind us of the
+vivid illuminations of the virile thirteenth century, when artists
+crowded cosmic catastrophes into the corner of an initial letter; where
+one may find a small picture of the Deluge or of the flaming Cities of
+the Plain. One of the specially short poems sees the universe overthrown
+and the good angels conquered. Another short poem sees the newsboys in
+Fleet Street shouting the news of the end of the world, and the awful
+return of God. The writers seem unconsciously to have sought to make a
+poem as large as a revelation, while it was nearly as short as a riddle.
+And though Francis Thompson himself was rather in the Elizabethan
+tradition of amplitude and ingenuity, he could write separate lines that
+were separate poems in themselves:--
+
+     "And thou, what needest with thy tribe's black tents,
+     Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?"
+
+A mediaeval illuminator would have jumped out of his sandals in his
+eagerness to illustrate that.
+
+G.K. CHESTERTON.
+
+
+
+
+FRANCIS THOMPSON
+
+
+_THREATENED TEARS_
+
+Do not loose those rains thy wet
+Eyes, my Fair, unsurely threat;
+Do not, Sweet, do not so;
+Thou canst not have a single woe,
+But this sad and doubtful weatlier
+Overcasts us both together.
+In the aspect of those known eyes
+My soul's a captain weatherwise.
+Ah me! what presages it sees
+In those watery Hyades.
+
+
+_ARAB LOVE SONG_
+
+The hunched camels of the night*
+Trouble the bright
+And silver waters of the moon.
+The Maiden of the Morn will soon
+Through Heaven stray and sing,
+Star gathering.
+
+Now while the dark about our loves is strewn,
+Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come!
+And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb.
+
+Leave thy father, leave thy mother
+And thy brother;
+Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart!
+Am I not thy father and thy brother,
+And thy mother?
+
+And thou--what needest with thy tribe's black tents
+Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?
+
+* The cloud-shapes often observed by travellers in the East.
+
+
+_BUONA NOTTE_
+
+_Jane Williams, in her last letter to Shelley, wrote: "Why do you
+talk of never enjoying moments like the past? Are you going to join
+your friend Plato, or do you expect I shall do so soon? Buona
+Notte." This letter was dated July 6th, and Shelley was drowned on
+the 8th. The following is his imagined reply from, another world_:--
+
+Ariel to Miranda:--hear
+This good-night the sea-winds bear;
+And let thine unacquainted ear
+Take grief for their interpreter.
+
+Good-night; I have risen so high
+Into slumber's rarity,
+Not a dream can beat its feather
+Through the unsustaining ether.
+Let the sea-winds make avouch
+How thunder summoned me to couch,
+Tempest curtained me about
+And turned the sun with his own hand out:
+And though I toss upon my bed
+My dream is not disquieted;
+Nay, deep I sleep upon the deep,
+And my eyes are wet, but I do not weep;
+And I fell to sleep so suddenly
+That my lips are moist yet--could'st thou see
+With the good-night draught I have drunk to thee.
+Thou can'st not wipe them; for it was Death
+Damped my lips that has dried my breath.
+A little while--it is not long--
+The salt shall dry on them like the song.
+
+Now know'st thou, that voice desolate,
+Mourning ruined joy's estate,
+Reached thee through a closing gate.
+"Go'st thou to Plato?" Ah, girl, no!
+It is to Pluto that I go.
+
+
+_THE PASSION OF MARY_
+
+O Lady Mary, thy bright crown
+  Is no mere crown of majesty;
+For with the reflex of His own
+  Resplendent thorns Christ circled thee.
+
+The red rose of this passion tide
+  Doth take a deeper hue from thee,
+In the five Wounds of Jesus dyed,
+  And in Thy bleeding thoughts, Mary.
+
+The soldier struck a triple stroke
+  That smote thy Jesus on the tree;
+He broke the Heart of hearts, and broke
+  The Saint's and Mother's hearts in thee.
+
+Thy Son went up the Angels' ways,
+  His passion ended; but, ah me!
+Thou found'st the road of further days
+  A longer way of Calvary.
+
+On the hard cross of hopes deferred
+  Thou hung'st in loving agony,
+Until the mortal dreaded word,
+  Which chills our mirth, spake mirth to thee.
+
+The Angel Death from this cold tomb
+  Of life did roll the stone away;
+And He thou barest in thy womb
+  Caught thee at last into the day--
+Before the living throne of Whom
+  The lights of heaven burning pray.
+
+
+                   L'ENVOY.
+
+O thou who dwellest in the day,
+  Behold, I pace amidst the gloom:
+Darkness is ever round my way,
+  With little space for sunbeam room.
+
+Yet Christian sadness is divine,
+  Even as thy patient sadness was:
+The salt tears in our life's dark wine
+  Fell in it from the saving Cross.
+
+Bitter the bread of our repast;
+  Yet doth a sweet the bitter leaven:
+Our sorrow is the shadow cast
+  Around it by the light of Heaven.
+  O Light in light, shine down from Heaven!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PADRAIC COLUM
+
+
+"_I SHALL NOT DIE FOR YOU_"
+
+(From the Irish)
+
+O woman, shapely as the swan,
+  On your account I shall not die.
+The men you've slain--a trivial clan--
+  Were less than I.
+
+I ask me shall I die for these:
+  For blossom-teeth and scarlet lips?
+And shall that delicate swan-shape
+  Bring me eclipse?
+
+Well shaped the breasts and smooth the skin,
+  The cheeks are fair, the tresses free;
+And yet I shall not suffer death,
+  God over me.
+
+Those even brows, that hair like gold,
+  Those languorous tones, that virgin way;
+The flowing limbs, the rounded heel
+  Slight men betray.
+
+Thy spirit keen through radiant mien,
+  Thy shining throat and smiling eye,
+Thy little palm, thy side like foam--
+  I cannot die.
+
+O woman, shapely as the swan,
+  In a cunning house hard-reared was I;
+O bosom white, O well-shaped palm,
+  I shall not die.
+
+
+_AN IDYLL_
+
+You stay at last at my bosom, with your beauty
+  young and rare,
+Though your light limbs are as limber as the
+  foal's that follows the mare,
+Brow fair and young and stately where thought
+  has now begun--Hair
+bright as the breast of the eagle when he
+  strains up to the sun!
+
+In the space of a broken castle I found you on
+  a day
+When the call of the new-come cuckoo went
+  with me all the way.
+You stood by the loosened stones that were
+  rough and black with age:
+The fawn beloved of the hunter in the panther's
+  broken cage!
+
+And we went down together by paths your
+  childhood knew--
+Remote you went beside me, like the spirit of
+  the dew;
+Hard were the hedge-rows still: sloe-bloom
+  was their scanty dower--
+You slipped it within your bosom, the bloom
+  that scarce is flower.
+
+And now you stay at my bosom with you
+  beauty young and rare,
+Though your light limbs are as limber as the
+  foal's that follows the mare;
+But always I will see you on paths your childhood
+  knew,
+When remote you went beside me like the
+  spirit of the dew.
+
+
+_CHRIST THE COMRADE_
+
+Christ, by thine own darkened hour
+  Live within my heart and brain!
+  Let my hands not slip the rein.
+
+Ah, how long ago it is
+  Since a comrade rode with me!
+  Now a moment let me see
+
+Thyself, lonely in the dark,
+Perfect, without wound or mark.
+
+
+_ARAB SONGS (I)_
+
+Saadi the Poet stood up and he put forth his
+  living words.
+His songs were the hurtling of spears and
+  his figures the flashing of swords.
+With hearts dilated our tribe saw the creature
+  of Saadi's mind;
+It was like to the horse of a king, a creature
+  of fire and of wind.
+
+Umimah my loved one was by me: without
+  love did these eyes see my fawn,
+And if fire there were in her being, for me
+  its splendour had gone;
+When the sun storms up on the tent, he makes
+  waste the fire of the grass--
+It was thus with my loved one's beauty: the
+  splendour of song made it pass.
+
+The desert, the march, and the onset--these
+  and these only avail,
+Hands hard with the handling of spear-shafts,
+  brows white with the press of the mail!
+And as for the kisses of women--these are
+  honey, the poet sings;
+But the honey of kisses, beloved, it is lime
+  for the spirit's wings.
+
+
+_ARAB SONGS (II)_
+
+_The poet reproaches those who have affronted him_.
+
+Ye know not why God hath joined the horse
+  fly unto the horse
+Nor why the generous steed is yoked with
+  the poisonous fly:
+Lest the steed should sink into ease and lose
+  his fervour of nerve
+God hath appointed him this: a lustful and
+  venomous bride.
+
+Never supine lie they, the steeds of our folk,
+  to the sting,
+Praying for deadness of nerve, their wounds
+  the shame of the sun;
+They strive, but they strive for this: the fullness
+  of passionate nerve;
+They pant, but they pant for this: the speed
+  that outstrips the pain.
+
+Sons of the dust, ye have stung: there is
+  darkness upon my soul.
+Sons of the dust, ye have stung: yea, stung
+  to the roots of my heart.
+But I have said in my breast: the birth
+  succeeds to the pang,
+And sons of the dust, behold, your malice
+  becomes my song.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SHANE LESLIE
+
+
+_A DEAD FRIEND_ (_J.S._, 1905)
+
+I drew him then unto my knee, my friend who
+  was dead,
+And I set my live lips over his, and my heart
+  by his head.
+
+I thought of an unrippled love and a passion
+  unsaid,
+And the years he was living by me, my friend
+  who was dead;
+
+And the white morning ways that we went,
+  and how oft we had fed
+And drunk with the sunset for lamp--my friend
+  who was dead;
+
+Now never the draught at my lips would thrill
+  to my head--
+For the last vintage ebbed in my heart; my
+  friend he was dead.
+
+Then I spake unto God in my grief: My wine
+  and my bread
+And my staff Thou hast taken from me--my
+  friend who is dead.
+
+Are the heavens yet friendless to Thee, and
+  lone to Thy head,
+That Thy desolate heart must have need of my
+  friend who is dead?
+
+To God then I spake yet again: not Peter
+  instead
+Would I take, nor Philip nor John, for my
+  friend who is dead.
+
+
+_FOREST SONG_
+
+All around I heard the whispering larches
+  Swinging to the low-lipped wind;
+God, they piped, is lilting in our arches,
+  For He loveth leafen kind.
+
+Ferns I heard, unfolding from their slumber,
+  Say confiding to the reed:
+God well knoweth us, Who loves to number
+  Us and all our fairy seed.
+
+Voices hummed as of a multitude
+  Crowding from their lowly sod;
+'Twas the stricken daisies where I stood,
+  Crying to the daisies' God.
+
+
+_THE BEE_
+
+Away, the old monks said,
+Sweet honey-fly,
+From lilting overhead
+The lullaby
+You heard some mother croon
+Beneath the harvest moon.
+Go, hum it in the hive,
+The old monks said,
+For we were once alive
+Who now are dead.
+
+
+_OUTSIDE THE CARLTON_
+
+The death of the grey withered grass
+    Of man's is a sign,
+    And his life is as wine
+That is spilt from a half-shivered glass.
+    At a quarter to nine
+    Went Dives to dine ...
+(Man, it is said, is as grass.)
+
+Riches and plunder had met
+    To furnish his feast--
+    Both succulent beast
+And fish from the fisherman's net;
+    While he tasteth of dishes
+    And all his soul wishes--
+Nor knoweth his hour hath been set.
+
+The death of the pale-sodden hay
+    'Neath the feet of the kine
+    Is to man for a sign;
+At the striking of ten he was grey,
+    And they carried him out
+    Stiff-strangled with gout.
+(Man, it is said, is as hay.)
+
+
+_THE PATER OF THE CANNON_
+
+Father of the thunder,
+  Flinger of the flame,
+Searing stars asunder,
+  _Hallowed be Thy Name_!
+
+By the sweet-sung quiring
+  Sister bullets hum,
+By our fiercest firing,
+  _May Thy Kingdom come_!
+
+By Thy strong apostle
+  Of the Maxim gun,
+By his pentecostal
+  Flame, _Thy Will be done_!
+
+Give us, Lord, good feeding
+  To Thy battles sped--Flesh,
+white grained and bleeding,
+  _Give for daily bread_!
+
+
+_FLEET STREET_
+
+I never see the newsboys run
+  Amid the whirling street,
+  With swift untiring feet,
+To cry the latest venture done,
+But I expect one day to hear
+  Them cry the crack of doom
+  And risings from the tomb,
+With great Archangel Michael near;
+And see them running from the Fleet
+  As messengers of God,
+  With Heaven's tidings shod
+About their brave unwearied feet.
+
+
+_NIGHTMARE_
+
+I dreamt that the heavens were beggared
+  And angels went chanting for bread,
+And the cherubs were sewed up in sackcloth,
+  And Satan anointed his head.
+I dreamt they had chalked up a price
+  On the sun and the stars at God's feet,
+And the Devil had bought up the Church,
+  And put out the Pope in the street.
+
+
+_TO A NOBLEMAN BECOMING SOCIALIST_
+
+I do remember thee so blest and filled
+  With all life offered thee,
+Yet unsurprised I learn that thou hast willed
+  To share or lose her fee.
+
+It seems a very great and stalwart thing
+  To toss defence away,
+To tear the golden feathers from thy wing
+  And lie with shards of clay.
+
+To some far vision's light thine eyes are set
+  That mock life's treasure trove,
+And see the changing woof not woven yet
+  As God would have it wove.
+
+The red thou flauntest bravely, friend, for me
+  Hast lost alarming power;
+For who but guilty men will quake their knee,
+  And who but robbers cower?
+
+For many hallowed things are symbolled red,
+  Live fire and cleansing war,
+And the bright sealing Blood that Christ once shed,
+  And Martyrs yet must pour.
+
+O friend, choose one of these ourselves to link;
+  For how could friendship be
+If from the foaming cup thou hast to drink
+  The dregs come not to me?
+
+Dividing much, thou makest little thine
+  Except the gain of loss;
+Yet haply Christ's true peer hath better sign
+  Than coronet--the Cross.
+
+
+_ST. GEORGE-IN-THE-EAST_
+
+'Mid the quiet splendour of a pennoned crowd,
+          Gently proud,
+Moved in armour, silvered in celestial forge,
+          Great Saint George,
+Stands he in the crimson-woven air of fight
+          Speared with light--
+Hell is harried by the holy anger poured
+          From his sword.
+
+Where the sweated toilers of the river slum
+          Shiver dumb,
+Passed to-day a poorly clad and poorly shod
+          Knight of God;
+Where the human eddy smears with shame and rags
+          Paving flags,
+Hell shall weakly wail beneath the words he cries
+          Piteous-wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+VIOLA MEYNELL
+
+
+_THE RUIN_
+
+I led thy thoughts, having them for my own,
+  To where my God His head to thee did bend.
+I bore thee in my bosom to His throne.
+  O, the blest labour, and the treasured end!
+
+Now like a ruined aqueduct I go
+  Unburdened; thou by more fleet ways hast been
+With Him. Since thou thine own swift road dost know,
+  Thou canst not brook such slow and devious mean.
+
+
+_THE DREAM_
+
+I slept, and thought a letter came from you--
+  You did not love me any more, it said.
+What breathless grief!--my love not true, not true ...
+  I was afraid of people, and afraid
+Of things inanimate--the wind that blew,
+  The clock, the wooden chair; and so I strayed
+From home, but could not stray from grief, I knew.
+  And then at dawn I woke, and wept, and prayed,
+And knew my blessed love was still the same;--
+  And yet I sit and moan upon the bed
+For that dream-creature's loss. For when I came
+  (I came, perhaps, to comfort her) she fled.
+I would be with her where she wanders now,
+Fleeing the earth, with pain upon her brow.
+
+
+_THE WANDERER_
+
+All night my thoughts have rested in God's fold;
+  They lay beside me here upon the bed.
+At dawn I woke: the air beat sad and cold.
+  I told them o'er--Ah, God, one thought had fled.
+
+Into what dark, deep chasm this wayward one
+  Has sunk, I scarcely know; I will not chide.
+O Shepherd, leave me! Seek this lamb alone.
+  The ninety-nine are here. They will abide.
+
+
+"_NATURE IS THE LIVING MANTLE OF GOD_"--_GOETHE_
+
+O for the time when some impetuous breeze
+Will catch Thy garment, and, like autumn trees,
+Toss it and rend it till Thou standest free,
+And end Thy long secluded reverie!
+
+Still now its beauty folds Thee, and--as she
+Who kissed Thy garment and had health from Thee--
+I feel the sun, or hear some bird in bliss,
+And Thou hast then my sudden, humble kiss.
+
+
+_SECRET PRAYER_
+
+Since that with lips which moved in one we prayed,
+  So that God ceased to hear us speak apart,
+What law irrevocable have we made?
+  How shall He hear a solitary heart
+
+When He did need that we, to have His ear,
+  Should go aside and pray together there
+With urgent breath? Ah, now I pause and fear--
+  How shall uprise my lonely, separate prayer?
+
+
+_THE UNHEEDED_
+
+Upon one hand your kisses chanced to rest:
+I smiled upon the other hand and said
+"Poor thing," when you had gone: and then in quest
+Of pity rose a clamour from the dead--
+Some way of mine, some word, some look, some jest
+Complained they too went all uncoveted ...
+That night I took these troubles to my breast,
+And played that you and I, my own, were wed;
+Those troubles were our child, with eyes of fear,--
+A wailing babe, whom I, his mother dear,
+Must soothe to quiet rest and calm relief,
+And urge his eyes to sleeping by and by.
+"O hush," I said, and wept to see such grief;
+"Hush, hush, your father must not hear you cry."
+
+
+_DREAM OF DEATH_
+
+In sleep my idle thoughts were sadly led
+  By wild dark ways: it strangely seemed that I
+Must join the number of the silent dead,
+  And with my young and fearful heart must die.
+
+But ah, what drew my bitter moans and sighs,
+  And pierced my sleeping spirit, was that she
+Who with the saddest tears would close these eyes
+  And with maternal passion mourn for me,
+
+She on some pleasure-errand stayed away.
+  Ah, bitter, bitter thought! Ah, lonely death
+To seek me in the night! And not till day
+  Had come and soothed my fear, and calmed my breath,
+
+And in the sun my new life I could kiss,
+  And look with prayer and hope to future years,
+Did I discern God's mercy still in this--
+  That I was spared the anguish of her tears.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+RUTH TEMPLE LINDSAY
+
+
+_MATER SALVATORIS_
+
+Ah, wilt thou turn aside and see
+The little Child on Mary's knee?
+Enter the stable bleak and cold,
+Grope through the straw and myrrh and gold;
+Seek in the darkness near and far--
+Lift up the lantern and the Star.
+Rough shepherds came to love and greet,
+There knelt three kings at Mary's feet.
+Ah! draw thee nigh the holy place--
+He sleepeth well in her embrace,
+The little Saviour of thy race--
+Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.
+
+But wilt thou come in years to be?
+She held Him dead across her knee.
+Stretch Him aloft on planks of wood;
+Offer Him gall for tears and blood.
+Blazon thy hatred far and near:
+Lift up the hammer and the spear.
+Red thorns about his head were wound--
+There lay three nails upon the ground.
+Yea I Heed the Lover of thy race--
+He lieth dead in her embrace.
+Ah! scourge thy soul with its disgrace:
+Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.
+
+
+_TO CHOOSE_
+
+Thou canst choose the eastern Circle for thy part,
+  And within its sacred precincts thou shalt rest;
+  Thou shalt fold pale, slender hands upon thy breast,
+Thou shalt fasten silent eyes upon thy heart.
+If there steal within the languor of thine ark
+  The thunder of the waters of the earth,
+  The human, simple cries of pain and mirth,
+The wails of little children in the dark,
+Thou shalt contemplate thy Circle's radiant gleam,
+  Thou shalt gather self and God more closely still:
+  Let the Piteous and the Foolish moan at will,
+So thou shelter in the sweetness of thy dream.
+
+Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,
+  Thou shalt stand upon the common, human sod,
+  Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes unto thy God,
+Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west
+Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell--
+  Thou shalt gather all the answers of the Earth,
+  Thou shalt wring repose from weariness and dearth,
+Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell--
+But thy height shall touch the height of God above,
+  And thy breadth shall span the breadth of pole to pole,
+  And thy depth shall sound the depth of every soul,
+And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.
+
+
+_THE HUNTERS_
+
+"_The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about
+seeking whom he may detour_"
+
+The Lion, he prowleth far and near,
+  Nor swerves for pain or rue;
+He heeded nought of sloth nor fear,
+  He prowleth--prowleth through
+The silent glade and the weary street,
+  In the empty dark and the full noon heat;
+And a little Lamb with aching Feet--
+  He prowleth too.
+
+The Lion croucheth alert, apart--
+  With patience doth he woo;
+He waiteth long by the shuttered heart,
+  And the Lamb--He waiteth too.
+Up the lurid passes of dreams that kill,
+  Through the twisting maze of the great Untrue,
+The Lion followeth the fainting will--
+  And the Lamb--He followeth too.
+
+From the thickets dim of the hidden way
+  Where the debts of Hell accrue,
+The Lion leapeth upon his prey:
+  But the Lamb--He leapeth too.
+Ah! loose the leash of the sins that damn,
+  Mark Devil and God as goals,
+In the panting love of a famished Lamb,
+  Gone mad with the need of souls.
+
+The Lion, he strayeth near and far;
+  What heights hath he left untrod?
+He crawleth nigh to the purest star,
+  On the trail of the saints of God.
+And throughout the darkness of things unclean,
+  In the depths where the sin-ghouls brood,
+There prowleth ever with yearning mien--
+  A lamb as white as Blood!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HUGH AUSTIN
+
+
+_THE ASTRONOMERS PRAYER_
+
+Night. O Thou God! who rulest Heaven and earth,
+  The terraced atmospheres, the bounded seas;
+Who knowest equally both death and birth,
+  Frail human men, strong divine mysteries,
+Whose unencumbered thought sways all the spheres,
+  In all their turning, snake-like, perfect ways;
+Now that the season of my labour nears,
+  Grant me an insight to Thy larger days!
+
+To Thee all things create and unborn yield,
+  Being of Thee, the secret of their souls--
+The traversed elements, the azure field
+  Whereo'er eternal each huge star-world rolls.
+There is no tiny insect but does know
+  Itself within Thy Presence visual:
+From us too swiftly years and seasons go,
+  To Thee all change is a thing gradual.
+
+E'en as at nightfall, when the lights come in,
+  The moth attracted woos and meets her death,
+So do I seek Thy light to wander in,
+  Though fearfully and with half-bated breath.
+So do I seek all knowledge of Thy stars,
+  Which move in and without my vision's reach;
+Maybe yet burning with internal wars,
+  Or shaking as this world with human speech.
+
+Stars which perhaps ten thousand years ago
+  Waned and grew cold at Thy almighty word
+Waft their light hitherward. I do not know--
+  Thy recreating voice I have not heard.
+Maybe, e'en at this hour Thine accents shake
+  Some chaos into order, into life;
+Perchance some great creation now doth break
+  Into new form beneath Thy wisdom's knife.
+
+Ah, Lord! The night appals me. Give me strength
+  Within myself to search this planet's dome:
+O Supreme Architect, give me at length
+  Some clearer knowledge of Thy spaceless home!
+My spirit seethes within me; in the sky
+  Thy constellations shine; for me begin
+My labours until night-time passes by--
+  And before dawn I must or fail or win.
+
+
+_THE MOON_
+
+Cirqued with dim stars and delicate moonflowers,
+Silent she moves among the silent hours--
+Watching the spheres that glow with golden heat
+              Under her feet.
+
+Then, when the sunrise tints the east with light,
+She fades to westward, with the dreamy night
+And all her starry train--in faint disguise
+              Of twilight skies.
+
+
+_TO YVONNE_
+
+Such things have been, Yvonne; but you and I,
+  Can we touch lips again across the years?
+Re-order what is past? Forget--or try
+  Not to remember what through mists of tears
+Is still too memorable? Dare we two
+  Start both our lives again, as we were young
+And happy, in such love as falls to few?
+  Nay, for our violins are all unstrung.
+
+Yet it is well that memory should hold
+  Some few pale rose-leaves plucked in bygone days,
+That still are sweet, despite those pains untold
+  Which throng the marges of life's winding ways.
+Yea, these will stay when nearer things are gone;
+  I shall keep mine. Will you keep yours, Yvonne?
+
+
+_THE BURIAL OF SCALD_
+
+A long, low wail of harps across the snow,
+  Falling and rising with the whistling wind;
+A shifting glare of lights that come and go,
+  As if men searched for what they could not find.
+And then the music thrilled out loud and well
+  Over the waste and barren dunes of sand--
+Solemn and stately as a passing bell
+  Heard dimly in some weary twilight land.
+
+Then slipped the moon behind a dusky cloud,
+  And each bright star its silver visage hid;
+Mystery 'gan the darkness to enshroud;
+  Across the sky a blood-red message slid.
+
+Sudden the ship blazed up, the dark was light;
+  Lo! Scald is dead! his pyre was lit to-night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JUDITH LYTTON
+
+
+_A DAY REMEMBERED_
+
+Oh, Love, what fate is ours? No summer morning
+  Shall give us joy, no sunrise bring relief;
+No end--no end is there unto our sorrow,
+  No measure to our grief.
+
+You looked at me, and all your living beauty
+  Swept to my heart in flame a moment's space,
+A sudden mist of tears in darkness veiling
+  The glory of your face.
+
+You spoke: I seemed to hear the wild doves cooing--
+  The rain upon the hills, sweet falling rain;
+And all my soul was filled with joy and anguish,
+  In ecstasy of pain.
+
+I saw as in a mist celestial visions
+  Beyond the bitter seas whence hope has fled,
+Heard the wind blow among the trees in summer,
+  But knew not what you said.
+
+It matters not what words the lips have spoken
+  When heart shall speak to heart, for love can hear
+Unspoken words, and see as in reflection
+  His own thoughts mirrored there.
+
+You came to me, the sun arose in splendour;
+  I saw the roses spread their petals sweet,
+And thought that all the world must see in wonder
+  The wings upon our feet.
+
+You touched me, and a wave of passionate longing
+  Flooded my soul until it swooned away,
+And knew no more the sunlight from the shadow--
+  If it were night or day.
+
+We wandered in the shadow of the woodland,
+  Mute while we looked into each other's eyes,
+And saw as in still pools of darkened water
+  The wonder of the skies.
+
+No word we spoke. We knew that love had silenced
+  All that we wished to speak yet left unsaid;
+The bees were humming in the wild-rose blossoms
+  Which clustered overhead.
+
+And all that summer day we were together,
+  Alone with love, yet with a sword between--
+The flaming sword that stands between us ever,
+  And all that might have been.
+
+Mist gathered white at evening in the valleys,
+  And slowly grew the dusk from gold to grey,
+While rain-clouds gathered on the low horizon
+  Dark at the close of day.
+
+And softly rose a wind from out the darkness,
+  With scent of flower and fern and herb and tree,
+And in its breath there came a sound of thunder,
+  Storm-laden from the sea.
+
+And thus we reached the wicket of the garden;
+  The wood was full of sound, the sound of wings;
+The scent of lavender brought back remembrance
+  Of long-forgotten things.
+
+Though heaven and earth and sky should be forgotten,
+  Yet of that hour my soul should bear the trace:
+For night fell fast, and in the deepening shadow
+  You turned and kissed my face.
+
+
+_CHILDHOOD_
+
+A stranger come I to the festival
+Thou holdest in the regions of romance,
+Where dragons lurk and elfin spirits dance,
+And pearls lie hid within each rose petal.
+What magic changes in life's crystal ball
+Shall thus transform earth's dullness at thy glance!
+Ride then the wind, a feather for thy lance,
+A pool thy sea, thy heaven a waterfall.
+So shall thy soul to fairy worlds belong,
+Where dust is gold and dew-drops turn to wine;
+Remember still the visions that are thine
+When sorrow shall disperse that phantom throng;
+And dream once more that thou hast found divine
+Love in a flower, and kingdoms in a song.
+
+
+_LOVE IN IDLENESS_
+
+To look at thee, and see the sunlight move
+The shadow of the leaves upon thy face,
+Lighting the glory of thy youth and grace
+With golden rays wind-stirred from trees above;
+To listen to the rustling of the grove,
+The warblers in the reeds which interlace
+The waters of the pool, and dream a space,
+Forgetful of the hours ... this then is love!
+Thy passion and thy strength, thy gentleness,
+All these are mine. Who then shall dispossess
+My soul of paradise? In truth I learn
+More than the world can teach. Oblivion waits,
+And distance parts, and Death annihilates:
+But now thy love is all my love's concern.
+
+
+_LOVE'S COUNTERFEIT_
+
+By what false spell of what enchanter's wand
+Should thy gross fibre be with love allied?
+Unhappy youth, thou callest to thy side
+An unknown shade from some far spirit land;
+Thou canst not guess, nor shalt thou understand,
+The waters that thy soul from his divide.
+In place of Love, what alien spirits glide
+About thy sleep to answer thy command?
+What blasphemy is this? Thou hast no spell
+To call that heaven-born spirit from the deep,
+Or move the stars. What cometh in his place?
+This monstrous fraud which thou hast raised from hell,
+Whose arms about thee in the darkness creep?
+Light not thy torch, lest thou shouldst see
+his face.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+OLIVIA MEYNELL
+
+
+_A GRIEF WITHOUT CHRIST_
+
+I sought Him in the trees, and Him I found
+In every colour, and in every sound.
+
+I sought Him in the sky, and He was there,
+A living God, breathing the living air.
+
+I sought Him in my soul--oh, passionate loss!
+All that I found was a forsaken Cross.
+
+
+_THE CROWNING_
+
+Whenas we wandered in the summer hours,
+My kind love crowned me with a crown of flowers.
+
+Softly they touched my forehead and my hair;
+Gay, sunny, yellow, and sweet-breathed they were--
+
+Soft flowers and tender hands, gay sun, soft skies;
+And sweeter, tenderer yet, his loving eyes.
+
+Ah! but it should have been with thorns he crowned me,
+Who follow Christ, while cold skies blackened round me.
+
+Dear love, I will accept from you cold frown,
+Sharp words, hard touch, as symbols of His crown.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MAURICE HEALY
+
+
+_IN MEMORIAM_
+
+"Lord, teach us how to pray," they said;
+And Jesus raised His weary head,
+Bowed by the sorrows of the way,
+And taught His children how to pray.
+
+"Lord, teach me how to pray," I cried;
+And Jesus sent you to my side
+To make your own the soul I wear
+And mould it purer into prayer.
+
+And since your love first lit the way
+I find that I have learned to pray;
+For, that my soul may benefit,
+I pray that you may pray for it.
+
+
+_A BALLAD OF FRIENDSHIP_
+
+_for two most dear Children_
+
+Soured and dimmed and chilled with senility
+  Hobbled the year to its uttermost day;
+I gave the best of a slender ability,
+  Seeking to make a short afternoon gay.
+You were both claimed ere the sky was grey
+  Over the tips of the western towers;
+Yet, as you went, you had time to say,
+  "This is no stranger: we name him ours!"
+
+Slaves and serfs have woes in abundancy--
+  Clashing of manacle, whistling of thong,
+Tales of terror and tears to redundancy;
+  What is the score of my slavery's wrong?
+Surely where pleasures so freely throng
+  Some sad fiend of unhappiness lowers;
+Or is the refrain of Good Fortune's song,
+  "This is no stranger: we name him ours"?
+
+When you enfranchised me into your mystery,
+  Lovingly stealing the sorrows I had,
+Wisdom came with you; the old sad history
+  Glowed; and I knew in my heart why the sad
+And outcast Lord grew suddenly glad
+  As the children thronged to crown Him with flowers,
+When their cry was voiced by some tiny lad,
+  "This is no Stranger: we name Him ours!"
+
+                  L'ENVOI.
+
+So do I thank you; and if some day
+  You in your gained Paradisal bowers
+Hear me knocking, be bold to pray,
+  "This is no stranger: we claim him ours!"
+
+
+_IN THE MIDST OF THEM_
+
+     "_Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
+     Look on me, a little child.
+     Pity my simplicity
+     And suffer me to come to Thee_."
+
+Now prevails a creed which tells
+Us to seek no miracles.
+Reason by discovered lore
+Reigns where Faith was found before.
+God, Who set our world aspin,
+Now is weary of its din;
+He, Who for our fathers' sake
+Conjured lightning and earthquake,
+Vanquished sorrow, sickness, death,
+Deems we are not worth the Breath
+That blessed the trusting prophet's rod
+When Moses called upon his God.
+How dare _we_ expect Him give
+Miracles to help us live?
+
+Yet I build on Him Who saith,
+"Move the mountains with your faith"--
+Doubt the lips that falter, wan,
+"The age of miracles is gone!"
+I have learned to read the grim
+Testimony unto Him
+Printed with starvation's hand
+On every hove! through the land;
+I have swung the crazy door
+To find huddled on a floor
+Rat-gnawed and riddled, with never a clout
+To keep the eager winter out,
+Some six or seven of our kind
+Shivering beneath the wind,
+Foodless, fireless, hungry-eyed,
+Crouched round one who just had died,
+Hopeless that the dawn would bring
+Friendly aid and comforting.
+
+And after prayer for the parted soul,
+They have thanked the slender dole,
+And spoken of hope of days to come,
+And have forgotten their martyrdom.
+The anguished grief of motherhood
+Has firmly whispered "God is good
+And can in His Eternity
+Repay this present loss"; till I
+Have almost turned my head to see
+If Christ has not come in with me!
+
+     _Gentle Jesus, mild and meek,
+     These the simple words I speak
+     Are the faith Thou gavest me;
+     Suffer me to come to Thee!_
+
+
+_SIC TRANSIT_
+
+They camped in the meadow at sunrise,
+  And their crests gleamed bright in the sun,
+And the breeze that blew sighed soft, for it knew
+  Their fate e'er the day was done.
+They lay in the meadow at sunset,
+  As the sky in anger blushed red;
+For the host of the dawn lay still on the lawn--
+  The host was a host of dead.
+
+Let the gardener but pass his scythe o'er the grass--
+  And the life of a daisy is sped!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MONICA SALEEBY
+
+
+_RETROSPECT_
+
+You loved the child of fifteen years.
+  I knew not this vast thing.
+Your great heart shrank beneath your fears;
+  You left me wondering.
+
+Now fourteen years have passed us by;
+  Our souls meet once again;
+And, meeting, I have asked you why
+  Our ways apart have lain?
+
+And now your answer comes at last:--
+  "I loved you in that day."
+Oh, strange reply! Oh, tender past!
+  Oh, long love locked away!
+
+And now, yes, I have climbed Love's hill;
+My heart is bound, yet free.
+And is there not some young child still
+For you to love in me?
+
+You have the right to love her yet,
+  For he who loves me grown
+Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget;
+  I give her for your own.
+
+Oh, keep her young within your breast,
+  Allow her to survive;
+For love of you _I'll_ do my best
+  To keep your child alive.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FRANCIS MEYNELL
+
+
+_ANY STONE_
+
+A myriad years God toiled to mould
+  A nerveless stone to His intent--
+From peace to war, from heat to cold,
+  It triumphed against the Omnipotent:
+God strove until His strength grew old,
+  Then cried "Thy help, My firmament!"
+
+The stars in succour gave their light,
+  The aiding moon her ocean-sway;
+At dawn and dusk the hosts of night
+  Watched round the battle-fires of day ...
+To set the dust He loved aright
+  God called His winds to that array,
+
+And all the burden of the world,
+  And all the tears from all men's eyes,
+Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled,
+  The priest, the fire, the sacrifice,
+The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled--
+  Victor, He held as nought the price!
+
+Thus loved, thus wrought, God deemed the stone
+Fit bed for beasts to lie upon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+O God of Gods, make short my days
+  Of blind approach to her and Thee;
+Life-long upon Thy rugged ways
+  Her heart has danced: she calls to me.
+Hast Thou forgotten me alone,
+  O Watcher where the wild beast lies?--
+Mould to Thy will this other stone
+  --A stone, yet precious in her eyes.
+
+
+_LUX IN TENEBRIS_
+
+Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to me in the night,
+The golden moon aglow in your hair, and the spear-driven light
+Of an army of stars in your eyes, weary with truant sleep.
+O little skilled in self, who thought you came to weep!
+
+Out of the darkness, light; flame in the virgin dew!
+Love came unto her own, and knew him not, who knew.
+O understood! O known! O apprehended bliss!
+O self unskilled in self! O taught of my one kiss!
+
+
+_MATER INVIOLATA_
+
+A maiden's love most nuptial is,
+Innocent of his nuptial kiss;
+And only after marriage call
+Her lips, her passion, virginal!
+
+For when she dreams, who is beloved,
+The ancient miracle stands proved--
+Virginity's much Motherhood!
+For O, the unborn babes she keeps,
+The unthought glory, lips unwooed!--
+And O, the quickening of her sleeps
+Whose dreams, dreamed over, do repeat
+The echoes of Love's falling feet!
+For his, her young inviolate mouth
+Longs with the longing of long drouth:
+And, lacking substance for such feast,
+She clasps a dream-baby to breast,
+And kisses, where her head has place,
+The dream-lips of her love's dream-face!
+
+On the decked bridal bed of Night
+She knows the Moon shows maiden light--
+The Sun's kiss urged in marriage-rite!
+So, when her very night shall come,
+Virginal, in her virgin home
+When stars show unfamiliar faces,
+Laughing for love in their high places--
+When her essential lips are dumb
+In a thronged panic of embraces--
+Her maiden heart, her spousal breast,
+Shall throb, surrendered and possessed,
+Throb, passion-sweet and ungainsaid--
+"Now at the last am I a Maid!"
+
+
+_SONG-BURDEN_
+
+I do confess I have no art
+To tell the tale of my own heart.
+
+Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes,
+I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears;
+And if of these I make you wise,
+These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears,
+There is nought to do; I have played my part.
+
+And I, a captain of much guile,
+Within your ranks dissensions preach
+Till all are jealous, each of each--
+Your eyes, lips, heart, a tear, a smile!
+
+So, when you turn your eyes away
+From mirrored eyes, and when you stay
+Love-hearing with reluctant hand,
+Straight then your heart-throbs will betray
+That you have read, and understand!
+
+And should your maiden heart uprise
+Against fain ears and full-fain eyes,
+Upon your lips, that cannot err,
+I set my kiss-interpreter!
+
+Or hold you steadfast as allies
+Your heart, hand, lips, your smiles, your all,
+Your faithful eyes are traitrous eyes--
+Out-steals a tear to your downfall!
+
+Your heart, your eyes, the lips of you
+--Hesitant and full-fain your eyes!--
+Make all my song; have I sung true?
+Make all my song; are you song-wise?
+
+
+_GIFTS_
+
+My given gifts have been, ah me!
+Sorrow, and superfluity.
+
+You needed primal force, and this
+Was all my giving--emphasis.
+
+For your mute voice more mute I made,
+And at your singing proffered song;
+You trembled, and I was afraid--
+Were pierced, I fell on the same blade--
+Triumphed, and then my arm was strong.
+For peace I builded on your peace,
+And on your weakness mine up-piled;
+Of too fond hope I made increase,
+And at your smilings, as a child,
+Ignorant of their cost, I smiled.
+
+Always I fear at sight of fears,
+And always weep at weeping eyes;
+O my Beloved, take my tears,
+Take my sighs!
+
+And these, and these, alas! shall be
+Sorrow, and superfluity.
+
+
+_WRAITH_
+
+Mine was not equal of her trust--
+  As whose, my friend, as whose should be?-And
+now, a panic dream of dust,
+  She comes to haunt the heart of me;
+
+She comes to haunt my heart for this,
+  And lo, a glory of my sighs!
+For still her phantom lips I kiss,
+  Who cannot meet her phantom eyes.
+
+
+_A DEDICATION_
+
+I took the universe for theme,
+  And all young eyes, and all old stars;
+A thousand angels of my dream
+  I sang, and a thousand of love's wars.
+
+Blind then my eyes, that now can see
+The narrowness of infinity!
+
+For these my songs sing but her eyes,
+  And all my song one star apart,
+One angel's dream-soliloquies,
+  One conquered, one triumphant, heart.
+
+Yea, one is all, and all is one;
+My songs, O love, are sung, and I have done.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+_By_ The Hon. Mrs. Lindsay
+            THE HERMIT OF DREAMS.
+            3s. 6d. net.
+
+_By_ Viola Meynell
+            MARTHA VINE: A Love Story of
+            Simple Life. 6s.
+
+_By_ Padraic Colum
+            WILD EARTH, 1s. net.
+
+_By_ Shane Leslie
+            SONGS OF ORIEL. 1s. net.
+            LOUGH DEARG. 1s. net.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eyes of Youth, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES OF YOUTH ***
+
+***** This file should be named 17735.txt or 17735.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/7/3/17735/
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe.
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
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