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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson -
+Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+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: The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25)
+
+Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+Other: Andrew Lang
+
+Release Date: December 12, 2009 [EBook #30659]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF R.L. STEVENSON V14 OF 25 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+       THE WORKS OF
+
+  ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+     SWANSTON EDITION
+
+        VOLUME XIV
+
+
+  _Of this SWANSTON EDITION in Twenty-five
+  Volumes of the Works of ROBERT LOUIS
+  STEVENSON Two Thousand and Sixty Copies
+  have been printed, of which only Two Thousand
+  Copies are for sale._
+
+         _This is No._ ........
+
+[Illustration: ALISON CUNNINGHAM, R. L. S.'S NURSE]
+
+
+
+
+    THE WORKS OF
+
+    ROBERT LOUIS
+
+     STEVENSON
+
+  VOLUME FOURTEEN
+
+
+  LONDON : PUBLISHED BY CHATTO AND
+  WINDUS : IN ASSOCIATION WITH CASSELL
+  AND COMPANY LIMITED : WILLIAM
+  HEINEMANN : AND LONGMANS GREEN
+  AND COMPANY              MDCCCCXI
+
+
+
+
+  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+                                                                PAGE
+        I. BED IN SUMMER                                           3
+             In winter I get up at night
+
+       II. A THOUGHT                                               3
+             It is very nice to think
+
+      III. AT THE SEA-SIDE                                         4
+             When I was down beside the sea
+
+       IV. YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT                                     4
+             All night long, and every night
+
+        V. WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN                                  5
+             A child should always say what's true
+
+       VI. RAIN                                                    5
+             The rain is raining all around
+
+      VII. PIRATE STORY                                            5
+             Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing
+
+     VIII. FOREIGN LANDS                                           6
+             Up into the cherry-tree
+
+       IX. WINDY NIGHTS                                            7
+             Whenever the moon and stars are set
+
+        X. TRAVEL                                                  7
+             I should like to rise and go
+
+       XI. SINGING                                                 9
+             Of speckled eggs the birdie sings
+
+      XII. LOOKING FORWARD                                         9
+             When I am grown to man's estate
+
+     XIII. A GOOD PLAY                                             9
+             We built a ship upon the stairs
+
+      XIV. WHERE GO THE BOATS?                                    10
+             Dark brown is the river
+
+       XV. AUNTIE'S SKIRTS                                        11
+             Whenever Auntie moves around
+
+      XVI. THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE                                11
+             When I was sick and lay a-bed
+
+     XVII. THE LAND OF NOD                                        12
+             From breakfast on all through the day
+
+    XVIII. MY SHADOW                                              12
+             I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me
+
+      XIX. SYSTEM                                                 13
+             Every night my prayers I say
+
+       XX. A GOOD BOY                                             14
+             I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day
+
+      XXI. ESCAPE AT BEDTIME                                      14
+             The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out
+
+     XXII. MARCHING SONG                                          15
+             Bring the comb and play upon it
+
+    XXIII. THE COW                                                16
+             The friendly cow, all red and white
+
+     XXIV. HAPPY THOUGHT                                          16
+             The world is so full of a number of things
+
+      XXV. THE WIND                                               16
+             I saw you toss the kites on high
+
+     XXVI. KEEPSAKE MILL                                          17
+             Over the borders, a sin without pardon
+
+    XXVII. GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN                                  18
+             Children, you are very little
+
+   XXVIII. FOREIGN CHILDREN                                       19
+             Little Indian, Sioux or Crow
+
+     XXIX. THE SUN'S TRAVELS                                      20
+             The sun is not a-bed when I
+
+      XXX. THE LAMPLIGHTER                                        20
+             My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky
+
+     XXXI. MY BED IS A BOAT                                       21
+             My bed is like a little boat
+
+    XXXII. THE MOON                                               22
+             The moon has a face like the clock in the hall
+
+   XXXIII. THE SWING                                              22
+             How do you like to go up in a swing
+
+    XXXIV. TIME TO RISE                                           23
+             A birdie with a yellow bill
+
+     XXXV. LOOKING-GLASS RIVER                                    23
+             Smooth it slides upon its travel
+
+    XXXVI. FAIRY BREAD                                            24
+             Come up here, O dusty feet
+
+   XXXVII. FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE                                24
+             Faster than fairies, faster than witches
+
+  XXXVIII. WINTER-TIME                                            25
+             Late lies the wintry sun a-bed
+
+    XXXIX. THE HAYLOFT                                            26
+             Through all the pleasant meadow-side
+
+       XL. FAREWELL TO THE FARM                                   26
+             The coach is at the door at last
+
+      XLI. North-West Passage                                     27
+
+            1. GOOD NIGHT                                         27
+              When the bright lamp is carried in
+
+            2. SHADOW MARCH                                       28
+              All round the house is the jet-black night
+
+            3. IN PORT                                            28
+              Last, to the chamber where I lie
+
+
+  THE CHILD ALONE
+
+        I. THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE                                    31
+             When children are playing alone on the green
+
+       II. MY SHIP AND I                                          32
+             O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship
+
+      III. MY KINGDOM                                             32
+             Down by a shining water well
+
+       IV. PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER                                33
+             Summer fading, winter comes
+
+        V. MY TREASURES                                           34
+             These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest
+
+       VI. BLOCK CITY                                             35
+             What are you able to build with your blocks
+
+      VII. THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS                                36
+             At evening when the lamp is lit
+
+     VIII. ARMIES IN THE FIRE                                     37
+             The lamps now glitter down the street
+
+       IX. THE LITTLE LAND                                        38
+              When at home alone I sit
+
+
+  GARDEN DAYS
+
+        I. NIGHT AND DAY                                          43
+             When the golden day is done
+
+       II. NEST EGGS                                              44
+             Birds all the sunny day
+
+      III. THE FLOWERS                                            46
+             All the names I know from nurse
+
+       IV. SUMMER SUN                                             46
+             Great is the sun, and wide he goes
+
+        V. THE DUMB SOLDIER                                       47
+             When the grass was closely mown
+
+       VI. AUTUMN FIRES                                           49
+             In the other gardens
+
+      VII. THE GARDENER                                           49
+             The gardener does not love to talk
+
+     VIII. HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS                                50
+             Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground
+
+
+  ENVOYS
+
+        I. TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA                                55
+             If two may read aright
+
+       II. TO MY MOTHER                                           55
+             You too, my mother, read my rhymes
+
+      III. TO AUNTIE                                              56
+             _Chief of our aunts_--not only I
+
+       IV. TO MINNIE                                              56
+             The red room with the giant bed
+
+        V. TO MY NAME-CHILD                                       58
+             Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn
+               with proper speed.
+
+       VI. TO ANY READER                                          59
+             As from the house your mother sees
+
+
+  UNDERWOODS
+
+  BOOK I: IN ENGLISH
+
+        I. ENVOY                                                  67
+             Go, little book, and wish to all
+
+       II. A SONG OF THE ROAD                                     67
+             The gauger walked with willing foot
+
+      III. THE CANOE SPEAKS                                       68
+             On the great streams the ships may go
+
+       IV.                                                        70
+             It is the season now to go
+
+        V. THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL                                    71
+             _A naked house, a naked moor_
+
+       VI. A VISIT FROM THE SEA                                   72
+             Far from the loud sea beaches
+
+      VII. TO A GARDENER                                          73
+             Friend, in my mountain-side demesne
+
+     VIII. TO MINNIE                                              74
+             A picture-frame for you to fill
+
+       IX. TO K. DE M.                                            74
+             A lover of the moorland bare
+
+        X. TO N. V. DE G. S.                                      75
+             The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears
+
+       XI. TO WILL. H. LOW                                        76
+             Youth now flees on feathered foot
+
+      XII. TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW                                   77
+             Even in the bluest noonday of July
+
+     XIII. TO H. F. BROWN                                         78
+             I sit and wait a pair of oars
+
+      XIV. TO ANDREW LANG                                         79
+             Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair
+
+       XV. ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI (TO R. A. M. S.)              80
+             In ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt
+
+      XVI. TO W. E. HENLEY                                        82
+             The year runs through her phases; rain and sun
+
+     XVII. HENRY JAMES                                            83
+             Who comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain
+
+    XVIII. THE MIRROR SPEAKS                                      84
+             Where the bells peal far at sea
+
+      XIX. KATHARINE                                              85
+             We see you as we see a face
+
+       XX. TO F. J. S.                                            85
+             I read, dear friend, in your dear face
+
+      XXI. REQUIEM                                                86
+             Under the wide and starry sky
+
+     XXII. THE CELESTIAL SURGEON                                  86
+            If I have faltered more or less
+
+    XXIII. OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS                                  87
+             Out of the sun, out of the blast
+
+     XXIV.                                                        89
+             Not yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert
+
+      XXV.                                                        90
+             It is not yours, O mother, to complain
+
+     XXVI. THE SICK CHILD                                         92
+             O mother, lay your hand on my brow
+
+    XXVII. IN MEMORIAM F. A. S.                                   93
+             Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
+
+   XXVIII. TO MY FATHER                                           93
+             Peace and her huge invasion to these shores
+
+     XXIX. IN THE STATES                                          94
+             With half a heart I wander here
+
+      XXX. A PORTRAIT                                             95
+             I am a kind of farthing dip
+
+     XXXI.                                                        96
+             Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still
+
+    XXXII. A CAMP                                                 96
+             The bed was made, the room was fit
+
+   XXXIII. THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS                           96
+             We travelled in the print of olden wars
+
+    XXXIV. SKERRYVORE                                             97
+             For love of lovely words, and for the sake
+
+     XXXV. SKERRYVORE: THE PARALLEL                               97
+             Here all is sunny, and when the truant gull
+
+    XXXVI.                                                        98
+             _My house_, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
+
+   XXXVII.                                                        98
+             My body which my dungeon is
+
+  XXXVIII.                                                        99
+             Say not of me that weakly I declined
+
+
+  BOOK II: IN SCOTS
+
+        I. THE MAKER TO POSTERITY                                105
+             Far 'yont amang the years to be
+
+       II. ILLE TERRARUM                                         106
+             Frae nirly, nippin', Eas'lan' breeze
+
+      III.                                                       109
+             When aince Aprile has fairly come
+
+       IV. A MILE AN' A BITTOCK                                  110
+             A mile an' a bittock, a mile or twa
+
+        V. A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN                                 111
+             The clinkum-clank o' Sabbath bells
+
+       VI. THE SPAEWIFE                                          116
+             O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I
+
+      VII. THE BLAST--1875                                       116
+             It's rainin'. Weet's the gairden sod
+
+     VIII. THE COUNTERBLAST--1886                                118
+             My bonny man, the warld, it's true
+
+       IX. THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL                             120
+             It's strange that God should fash to frame
+
+        X. THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB        121
+             Dear Thamson class, whaure'er I gang
+
+       XI. EMBRO HIE KIRK                                        123
+             The Lord Himsel' in former days
+
+      XII. THE SCOTSMAN'S RETURN FROM ABROAD                     125
+             In mony a foreign pairt I've been
+
+     XIII.                                                       129
+             Late In the night in bed I lay
+
+      XIV. MY CONSCIENCE!                                        131
+             Of a' the ills that flesh can fear
+
+       XV. TO DR. JOHN BROWN                                     133
+             By Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees
+
+      XVI.                                                       135
+             It's an owercome sooth for age an' youth
+
+
+  BALLADS
+
+
+  THE SONG OF RAH�RO
+
+  A LEGEND OF TAHITI
+
+        I. THE SLAYING OF T�MAT�A                                139
+
+       II. THE VENGING OF T�MAT�A                                148
+
+      III. RAH�RO                                                159
+
+
+  THE FEAST OF FAMINE
+
+  MARQUESAN MANNERS
+
+        I. THE PRIEST'S VIGIL                                    169
+
+       II. THE LOVERS                                            172
+
+      III. THE FEAST                                             176
+
+       IV. THE RAID                                              182
+
+
+  TICONDEROGA
+
+  A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS
+
+        I. THE SAYING OF THE NAME                                189
+
+       II. THE SEEKING OF THE NAME                               194
+
+      III. THE PLACE OF THE NAME                                 196
+
+
+  HEATHER ALE
+
+  A GALLOWAY LEGEND
+
+  From the bonny bells of heather                                201
+
+
+  CHRISTMAS AT SEA
+
+  The sheets were frozen hard                                    207
+
+
+  NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAH�RO                                    211
+
+  NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE                                   213
+
+  NOTES TO TICONDEROGA                                           214
+
+  NOTE TO HEATHER ALE                                            215
+
+
+  SONGS OF TRAVEL
+
+        I. THE VAGABOND                                          219
+             Give to me the life I love
+
+       II. YOUTH AND LOVE--I                                     220
+             Once only by the garden gate
+
+      III. YOUTH AND LOVE--II                                    221
+             To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside
+
+       IV.                                                       221
+             In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand
+
+        V.                                                       222
+             She rested by the Broken Brook
+
+       VI.                                                       222
+             The infinite shining heavens
+
+      VII.                                                       223
+             Plain as the glistering planets shine
+
+     VIII.                                                       224
+             To you, let snow and roses
+
+       IX.                                                       224
+             Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams
+
+        X.                                                       225
+             I know not how it is with you
+
+       XI.                                                       225
+             I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
+
+      XII. WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE                                 226
+             Berried brake and reedy island
+
+     XIII. MATER TRIUMPHANS                                      227
+             Son of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and
+               fife
+
+      XIV.                                                       227
+             Bright is the ring of words
+
+       XV.                                                       228
+             In the highlands, in the country places
+
+      XVI.                                                       229
+             Home no more home to me, whither must I wander
+
+     XVII. WINTER                                                230
+             In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
+
+    XVIII.                                                       230
+             The stormy evening closes now in vain
+
+      XIX. TO DR. HAKE                                           231
+             In the beloved hour that ushers day
+
+       XX. TO ----                                               232
+             I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills
+
+      XXI.                                                       233
+             The morning drum-call on my eager ear
+
+     XXII.                                                       233
+             I have trod the upward and the downward slope
+
+    XXIII.                                                       233
+             He hears with gladdened heart the thunder
+
+     XXIV.                                                       233
+             Farewell, fair day and fading light
+
+      XXV. IF THIS WERE FAITH                                    234
+             God, if this were enough
+
+     XXVI. MY WIFE                                               235
+             Trusty, dusky, vivid, true
+
+    XXVII. TO THE MUSE                                           236
+             Resign the rhapsody, the dream
+
+   XXVIII. TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS                                 237
+             Since long ago, a child at home
+
+     XXIX. TO KALAKAUA                                           238
+             The Silver Ship, my King--that was her name
+
+      XXX. TO PRINCESS KAIULANI                                  239
+             Forth from her land to mine she goes
+
+     XXXI. TO MOTHER MARYANNE                                    240
+             To see the infinite pity of this place
+
+    XXXII. IN MEMORIAM E. H.                                     240
+             I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare
+
+   XXXIII. TO MY WIFE                                            241
+             Long must elapse ere you behold again
+
+    XXXIV. TO MY OLD FAMILIARS                                   242
+             Do you remember--can we e'er forget
+
+     XXXV.                                                       243
+             The tropics vanish, and meseems that I
+
+    XXXVI. TO S. C.                                              244
+             I heard the pulse of the besieging sea
+
+   XXXVII. THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA                                245
+             _Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards_
+
+  XXXVIII. THE WOODMAN                                           249
+             In all the grove, nor stream nor bird
+
+    XXXIX. TROPIC RAIN                                           254
+             As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is
+               mingled well
+
+       XL. AN END OF TRAVEL                                      255
+             Let now your soul in this substantial world
+
+      XLI.                                                       255
+             We uncommiserate pass into the night
+
+     XLII.                                                       256
+             Sing me a song of a lad that is gone
+
+    XLIII. TO S. R. CROCKETT                                     257
+             Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain
+               are flying
+
+     XLIV. EVENSONG                                              257
+             The embers of the day are red
+
+
+  ADDITIONAL POEMS
+
+        I. A FAMILIAR EPISTLE                                    261
+             Blame me not that this epistle
+
+       II. RONDELS                                               263
+             1. Far have you come, my lady, from the town
+             2. Nous n'irons plus au bois
+             3. Since I am sworn to live my life
+             4. Of his pitiable transformation
+
+      III. EPISTLE TO CHARLES BAXTER                             265
+             Noo lyart leaves blaw ower the green
+
+       IV. THE SUSQUEHANNAH AND THE DELAWARE                     267
+             Of where or how, I nothing know
+
+        V. EPISTLE TO ALBERT DEW-SMITH                           268
+             Figure me to yourself, I pray
+
+       VI. ALCAICS TO HORATIO F. BROWN                           270
+             Brave lads in olden musical centuries
+
+      VII. A LYTLE JAPE OF TUSHERIE                              272
+             The pleasant river gushes
+
+     VIII. TO VIRGIL AND DORA WILLIAMS                           273
+             Here, from the forelands of the tideless sea
+
+       IX. BURLESQUE SONNET                                      273
+             Thee, Mackintosh, artificer of light
+
+        X. THE FINE PACIFIC ISLANDS                              274
+             The jolly English Yellowboy
+
+       XI. AULD REEKIE                                           275
+             When chitterin' cauld the day sall daw
+
+      XII. THE LESSON OF THE MASTER                              276
+             Adela, Adela, Adela Chart
+
+     XIII. THE CONSECRATION OF BRAILLE                           276
+             I was a barren tree before
+
+      XIV. SONG                                                  277
+             Light foot and tight foot
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+
+
+  _TO
+  ALISON CUNNINGHAM
+  FROM HER BOY_
+
+
+  _For the long nights you lay awake
+  And watched for my unworthy sake:
+  For your most comfortable hand
+  That led me through the uneven land:
+  For all the story-books you read:
+  For all the pains you comforted:
+  For all you pitied, all you bore,
+  In sad and happy days of yore:--
+  My second Mother, my first Wife,
+  The angel of my infant life--
+  From the sick child, now well and old,
+  Take, nurse, the little book you hold!_
+
+  _And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
+  May find as dear a nurse at need,
+  And every child who lists my rhyme,
+  In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,
+  May hear it in as kind a voice
+  As made my childish days rejoice!_
+
+    _R. L. S._
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+
+
+I
+
+BED IN SUMMER
+
+  In winter I get up at night
+  And dress by yellow candle-light.
+  In summer, quite the other way,--
+  I have to go to bed by day.
+
+  I have to go to bed and see
+  The birds still hopping on the tree,
+  Or hear the grown-up people's feet
+  Still going past me in the street.
+
+  And does it not seem hard to you,
+  When all the sky is clear and blue,
+  And I should like so much to play,
+  To have to go to bed by day?
+
+
+II
+
+A THOUGHT
+
+  It is very nice to think
+  The world is full of meat and drink,
+  With little children saying grace
+  In every Christian kind of place.
+
+
+III
+
+AT THE SEA-SIDE
+
+  When I was down beside the sea,
+  A wooden spade they gave to me
+    To dig the sandy shore.
+  My holes were empty like a cup,
+  In every hole the sea came up,
+    Till it could come no more.
+
+
+IV
+
+YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT
+
+  All night long, and every night,
+  When my mamma puts out the light,
+  I see the people marching by,
+  As plain as day, before my eye.
+
+  Armies and emperors and kings,
+  All carrying different kinds of things,
+  And marching in so grand a way,
+  You never saw the like by day.
+
+  So fine a show was never seen
+  At the great circus on the green;
+  For every kind of beast and man
+  Is marching in that caravan.
+
+  At first they move a little slow,
+  But still the faster on they go,
+  And still beside them close I keep
+  Until we reach the town of Sleep.
+
+
+V
+
+WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN
+
+  A child should always say what's true,
+  And speak when he is spoken to,
+  And behave mannerly at table:
+  At least as far as he is able.
+
+
+VI
+
+RAIN
+
+  The rain is raining all around,
+    It falls on field and tree,
+  It rains on the umbrellas here,
+    And on the ships at sea.
+
+
+VII
+
+PIRATE STORY
+
+  Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
+    Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea.
+  Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,
+    And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
+
+  Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat,
+    Wary of the weather, and steering by a star?
+  Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,
+    To Providence, or Babylon, or off to Malabar?
+
+  Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea--
+    Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar!
+  Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be,
+    The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.
+
+
+VIII
+
+FOREIGN LANDS
+
+  Up into the cherry-tree
+  Who should climb but little me?
+  I held the trunk with both my hands
+  And looked abroad on foreign lands.
+
+  I saw the next-door garden lie,
+  Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
+  And many pleasant places more
+  That I had never seen before.
+
+  I saw the dimpling river pass
+  And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
+  The dusty roads go up and down
+  With people tramping in to town.
+
+  If I could find a higher tree,
+  Farther and farther I should see
+  To where the grown-up river slips
+  Into the sea among the ships,
+
+  To where the roads on either hand
+  Lead onward into fairy-land,
+  Where all the children dine at five,
+  And all the playthings come alive.
+
+
+IX
+
+WINDY NIGHTS
+
+  Whenever the moon and stars are set,
+    Whenever the wind is high,
+  All night long in the dark and wet,
+    A man goes riding by.
+  Late in the night when the fires are out,
+  Why does he gallop and gallop about?
+
+  Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
+    And ships are tossed at sea,
+  By, on the highway, low and loud,
+    By at the gallop goes he.
+  By at the gallop he goes, and then
+  By he comes back at the gallop again.
+
+
+X
+
+TRAVEL
+
+  I should like to rise and go
+  Where the golden apples grow;--
+  Where below another sky
+  Parrot islands anchored lie,
+  And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
+  Lonely Crusoes building boats;--
+  Where in sunshine reaching out
+  Eastern cities, miles about,
+  Are with mosque and minaret
+  Among sandy gardens set,
+  And the rich goods from near and far
+  Hang for sale in the bazaar;--
+  Where the Great Wall round China goes,
+  And on one side the desert blows,
+  And with bell and voice and drum,
+  Cities on the other hum;--
+  Where are forests, hot as fire,
+  Wide as England, tall as a spire,
+  Full of apes and cocoa-nuts
+  And the negro hunters' huts;--
+  Where the knotty crocodile
+  Lies and blinks in the Nile,
+  And the red flamingo flies
+  Hunting fish before his eyes;--
+  Where in jungles, near and far,
+  Man-devouring tigers are,
+  Lying close and giving ear
+  Lest the hunt be drawing near,
+  Or a comer-by be seen
+  Swinging in a palanquin;--
+  Where among the desert sands
+  Some deserted city stands,
+  All its children, sweep and prince,
+  Grown to manhood ages since,
+  Not a foot in street or house,
+  Nor a stir of child or mouse,
+  And when kindly falls the night,
+  In all the town no spark of light.
+  There I'll come when I'm a man
+  With a camel caravan;
+  Light a fire in the gloom
+  Of some dusty dining-room;
+  See the pictures on the walls,
+  Heroes, fights, and festivals;
+  And in a corner find the toys
+  Of the old Egyptian boys.
+
+
+XI
+
+SINGING
+
+  Of speckled eggs the birdie sings
+    And nests among the trees;
+  The sailor sings of ropes and things
+    In ships upon the seas.
+
+  The children sing in far Japan,
+    The children sing in Spain;
+  The organ with the organ man
+    Is singing in the rain.
+
+
+XII
+
+LOOKING FORWARD
+
+  When I am grown to man's estate
+  I shall be very proud and great,
+  And tell the other girls and boys
+  Not to meddle with my toys.
+
+
+XIII
+
+A GOOD PLAY
+
+  We built a ship upon the stairs
+  All made of the back-bedroom chairs
+  And filled it full of sofa pillows
+  To go a-sailing on the billows.
+
+  We took a saw and several nails,
+  And water in the nursery pails;
+  And Tom said, "Let us also take
+  An apple and a slice of cake";--
+  Which was enough for Tom and me
+  To go a-sailing on, till tea.
+
+  We sailed along for days and days,
+  And had the very best of plays;
+  But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
+  So there was no one left but me.
+
+
+XIV
+
+WHERE GO THE BOATS?
+
+  Dark brown is the river,
+    Golden is the sand.
+  It flows along for ever,
+    With trees on either hand.
+
+  Green leaves a-floating,
+    Castles of the foam,
+  Boats of mine a-boating--
+    Where will all come home?
+
+  On goes the river,
+    And out past the mill,
+  Away down the valley,
+    Away down the hill.
+
+  Away down the river,
+    A hundred miles or more,
+  Other little children
+    Shall bring my boats ashore.
+
+
+XV
+
+AUNTIE'S SKIRTS
+
+  Whenever Auntie moves around,
+  Her dresses make a curious sound;
+  They trail behind her up the floor,
+  And trundle after through the door.
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
+
+  When I was sick and lay a-bed,
+  I had two pillows at my head,
+  And all my toys beside me lay
+  To keep me happy all the day.
+
+  And sometimes for an hour or so
+  I watched my leaden soldiers go,
+  With different uniforms and drills,
+  Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
+
+  And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
+  All up and down among the sheets;
+  Or brought my trees and houses out,
+  And planted cities all about.
+
+  I was the giant great and still
+  That sits upon the pillow-hill,
+  And sees before him, dale and plain,
+  The pleasant land of counterpane.
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE LAND OF NOD
+
+  From breakfast on all through the day
+  At home among my friends I stay;
+  But every night I go abroad
+  Afar into the land of Nod.
+
+  All by myself I have to go,
+  With none to tell me what to do--
+  All alone beside the streams
+  And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
+
+  The strangest things are there for me,
+  Both things to eat and things to see,
+  And many frightening sights abroad
+  Till morning in the land of Nod.
+
+  Try as I like to find the way,
+  I never can get back by day,
+  Nor can remember plain and clear
+  The curious music that I hear.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+MY SHADOW
+
+  I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
+  And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
+  He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
+  And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
+
+  The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
+  Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
+  For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
+  And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.
+
+  He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
+  And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
+  He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
+  I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
+
+  One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
+  I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
+  But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
+  Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
+
+
+XIX
+
+SYSTEM
+
+  Every night my prayers I say,
+  And get my dinner every day;
+  And every day that I've been good,
+  I get an orange after food.
+
+  The child that is not clean and neat,
+  With lots of toys and things to eat,
+  He is a naughty child, I'm sure--
+  Or else his dear papa is poor.
+
+
+XX
+
+A GOOD BOY
+
+  I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
+  I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
+
+  And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,
+  And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.
+
+  My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
+  And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
+
+  I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,
+  No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes,
+
+  But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
+  And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.
+
+
+XXI
+
+ESCAPE AT BEDTIME
+
+  The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out
+    Through the blinds and the windows and bars;
+  And high overhead and all moving about,
+    There were thousands of millions of stars.
+  There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree,
+    Nor of people in church or the Park,
+  As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me,
+    And that glittered and winked in the dark.
+  The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all,
+    And the star of the sailor, and Mars,
+  These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall
+    Would be half full of water and stars.
+  They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries,
+    And they soon had me packed into bed;
+  But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes,
+    And the stars going round in my head.
+
+
+XXII
+
+MARCHING SONG
+
+  Bring the comb and play upon it!
+    Marching, here we come!
+  Willie cocks his Highland bonnet,
+    Johnnie beats the drum.
+
+  Mary Jane commands the party,
+    Peter leads the rear;
+  Feet in time, alert and hearty,
+    Each a Grenadier!
+
+  All in the most martial manner
+    Marching double-quick;
+  While the napkin like a banner
+    Waves upon the stick!
+
+  Here's enough of fame and pillage,
+    Great commander Jane!
+  Now that we've been round the village,
+    Let's go home again.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+THE COW
+
+  The friendly cow, all red and white,
+    I love with all my heart:
+  She gives me cream with all her might,
+    To eat with apple-tart.
+
+  She wanders lowing here and there,
+    And yet she cannot stray,
+  All in the pleasant open air,
+    The pleasant light of day;
+
+  And blown by all the winds that pass,
+    And wet with all the showers,
+  She walks among the meadow grass
+    And eats the meadow flowers.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+HAPPY THOUGHT
+
+  The world is so full of a number of things,
+  I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE WIND
+
+  I saw you toss the kites on high
+  And blow the birds about the sky;
+  And all around I heard you pass,
+  Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
+      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
+      O wind, that sings so loud a song!
+
+  I saw the different things you did,
+  But always you yourself you hid.
+  I felt you push, I heard you call,
+  I could not see yourself at all--
+      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
+      O wind, that sings so loud a song!
+
+  O you that are so strong and cold,
+  O blower, are you young or old?
+  Are you a beast of field and tree,
+  Or just a stronger child than me?
+      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
+      O wind, that sings so loud a song!
+
+
+XXVI
+
+KEEPSAKE MILL
+
+  Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
+    Breaking the branches and crawling below,
+  Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
+    Down by the banks of the river, we go.
+
+  Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,
+    Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,
+  Here is the sluice with the race running under--
+    Marvellous places, though handy to home!
+
+  Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
+    Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
+  Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
+    Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.
+
+  Years may go by, and the wheel in the river,
+    Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,
+  Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever,
+    Long after all of the boys are away.
+
+  Home from the Indies, and home from the ocean,
+    Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;
+  Still we shall find the old mill-wheel in motion,
+    Turning and churning that river to foam.
+
+  You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
+    I with your marble of Saturday last,
+  Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
+    Here we shall meet and remember the past.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN
+
+  Children, you are very little,
+  And your bones are very brittle;
+  If you would grow great and stately,
+  You must try to walk sedately.
+
+  You must still be bright and quiet,
+  And content with simple diet;
+  And remain, through all bewild'ring,
+  Innocent and honest children.
+
+  Happy hearts and happy faces,
+  Happy play in grassy places--
+  That was how, in ancient ages,
+  Children grew to kings and sages.
+
+  But the unkind and the unruly,
+  And the sort who eat unduly,
+  They must never hope for glory--
+  Theirs is quite a different story!
+
+  Cruel children, crying babies,
+  All grow up as geese and gabies,
+  Hated, as their age increases,
+  By their nephews and their nieces.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+FOREIGN CHILDREN
+
+    Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
+    Little frosty Eskimo,
+    Little Turk or Japanee,
+  O! don't you wish that you were me?
+
+  You have seen the scarlet trees
+  And the lions over seas;
+  You have eaten ostrich eggs,
+  And turned the turtles off their legs.
+
+  Such a life is very fine,
+  But it's not so nice as mine;
+  You must often, as you trod,
+  Have wearied _not_ to be abroad.
+
+  You have curious things to eat,
+  I am fed on proper meat;
+  You must dwell beyond the foam,
+  But I am safe and live at home.
+
+    Little Indian, Sioux or Crow
+    Little frosty Eskimo,
+    Little Turk or Japanee,
+  O! don't you wish that you were me?
+
+
+XXIX
+
+THE SUN'S TRAVELS
+
+  The sun is not a-bed when I
+  At night upon my pillow lie;
+  Still round the earth his way he takes,
+  And morning after morning makes.
+
+  While here at home, in shining day,
+  We round the sunny garden play,
+  Each little Indian sleepy-head
+  Is being kissed and put to bed.
+
+  And when at eve I rise from tea,
+  Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea,
+  And all the children in the West
+  Are getting up and being dressed.
+
+
+XXX
+
+THE LAMPLIGHTER
+
+  My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;
+  It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
+  For every night at tea-time and before you take your seat,
+  With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
+
+  Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
+  And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be;
+  But I, when I am stronger, and can choose what I'm to do,
+  O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!
+
+  For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
+  And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
+  And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light,
+  O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!
+
+
+XXXI
+
+MY BED IS A BOAT
+
+  My bed is like a little boat;
+    Nurse helps me in when I embark;
+  She girds me in my sailor's coat
+    And starts me in the dark.
+
+  At night, I go on board and say
+    Good-night to all my friends on shore;
+  I shut my eyes and sail away
+    And see and hear no more.
+
+  And sometimes things to bed I take,
+    As prudent sailors have to do:
+  Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,
+    Perhaps a toy or two.
+
+  All night across the dark we steer:
+    But when the day returns at last,
+  Safe in my room, beside the pier,
+    I find my vessel fast.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+THE MOON
+
+  The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
+  She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
+  On streets and fields and harbour quays,
+  And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
+
+  The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
+  The howling dog by the door of the house,
+  The bat that lies in bed at noon,
+  All love to be out by the light of the moon.
+
+  But all of the things that belong to the day
+  Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
+  And flowers and children close their eyes
+  Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+THE SWING
+
+  How do you like to go up in a swing,
+    Up in the air so blue?
+  Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
+    Ever a child can do!
+
+  Up in the air and over the wall,
+    Till I can see so wide,
+  Rivers and trees and cattle and all
+    Over the countryside--
+
+  Till I look down on the garden green,
+    Down on the roof so brown--
+  Up in the air I go flying again,
+    Up in the air and down!
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+TIME TO RISE
+
+  A birdie with a yellow bill
+  Hopped upon the window sill,
+  Cocked his shining eye and said:
+  "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?"
+
+
+XXXV
+
+LOOKING-GLASS RIVER
+
+  Smooth it slides upon its travel,
+    Here a wimple, there a gleam--
+        O the clean gravel!
+        O the smooth stream!
+
+  Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
+    Paven pools as clear as air--
+        How a child wishes
+        To live down there!
+
+  We can see our coloured faces
+    Floating on the shaken pool
+        Down in cool places,
+        Dim and very cool;
+
+  Till a wind or water wrinkle,
+    Dipping marten, plumping trout,
+        Spreads in a twinkle
+        And blots all out.
+
+  See the rings pursue each other;
+    All below grows black as night,
+        Just as if mother
+        Had blown out the light!
+
+  Patience, children, just a minute--
+    See the spreading circles die;
+        The stream and all in it
+        Will clear by-and-by.
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+FAIRY BREAD
+
+  Come up here, O dusty feet!
+  Here is fairy bread to eat.
+  Here in my retiring room,
+    Children, you may dine
+  On the golden smell of broom
+    And the shade of pine;
+  And when you have eaten well,
+  Fairy stories hear and tell.
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE
+
+  Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
+  Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
+  And charging along like troops in a battle,
+  All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
+  All of the sights of the hill and the plain
+  Fly as thick as driving rain;
+  And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
+  Painted stations whistle by.
+  Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
+  All by himself and gathering brambles;
+  Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
+  And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
+  Here is a cart run away in the road
+  Lumping along with man and load;
+  And here is a mill, and there is a river:
+  Each a glimpse and gone for ever!
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+WINTER-TIME
+
+  Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
+  A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
+  Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
+  A blood-red orange, sets again.
+
+  Before the stars have left the skies,
+  At morning in the dark I rise;
+  And shivering in my nakedness,
+  By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
+
+  Close by the jolly fire I sit
+  To warm my frozen bones a bit;
+  Or with a reindeer-sled explore
+  The colder countries round the door.
+
+  When, to go out, my nurse doth wrap
+  Me in my comforter and cap,
+  The cold wind burns my face, and blows
+  Its frosty pepper up my nose.
+
+  Black are my steps on silver sod;
+  Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
+  And tree and house, and hill and lake,
+  Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+THE HAYLOFT
+
+  Through all the pleasant meadow-side
+    The grass grew shoulder-high,
+  Till the shining scythes went far and wide
+    And cut it down to dry.
+
+  These green and sweetly smelling crops
+    They led in waggons home;
+  And they piled them here in mountain tops
+    For mountaineers to roam.
+
+  Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
+    Mount Eagle and Mount High;--
+  The mice that in these mountains dwell
+    No happier are than I!
+
+  O what a joy to clamber there,
+    O what a place for play,
+  With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
+    The happy hills of hay.
+
+
+XL
+
+FAREWELL TO THE FARM
+
+  The coach is at the door at last;
+  The eager children, mounting fast
+  And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+  To house and garden, field and lawn,
+  The meadow-gates we swang upon,
+  To pump and stable, tree and swing,
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+  And fare you well for evermore,
+  O ladder at the hayloft door,
+  O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+  Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
+  The trees and houses smaller grow;
+  Last, round the woody turn we swing:
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+
+XLI
+
+NORTH-WEST PASSAGE
+
+    1. GOOD NIGHT
+
+  When the bright lamp is carried in,
+  The sunless hours again begin;
+  O'er all without, in field and lane,
+  The haunted night returns again.
+
+  Now we behold the embers flee
+  About the firelit hearth; and see
+  Our faces painted as we pass,
+  Like pictures, on the window-glass.
+
+  Must we to bed indeed? Well then,
+  Let us arise and go like men,
+  And face with an undaunted tread
+  The long black passage up to bed.
+
+  Farewell, O brother, sister, sire!
+  O pleasant party round the fire!
+  The songs you sing, the tales you tell,
+  Till far to-morrow, fare ye well!
+
+    2. SHADOW MARCH
+
+  All round the house is the jet-black night;
+    It stares through the window-pane;
+  It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
+    And it moves with the moving flame.
+
+  Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,
+    With the breath of the Bogie in my hair;
+  And all round the candle the crooked shadows come
+    And go marching along up the stair.
+
+  The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
+    The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
+  All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp,
+    With the black night overhead.
+
+    3. IN PORT
+
+  Last, to the chamber where I lie
+  My fearful footsteps patter nigh,
+  And come from out the cold and gloom
+  Into my warm and cheerful room.
+
+  There, safe arrived, we turned about
+  To keep the coming shadows out,
+  And close the happy door at last
+  On all the perils that we passed.
+
+  Then, when mamma goes by to bed,
+  She shall come in with tip-toe tread,
+  And see me lying warm and fast
+  And in the land of Nod at last.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD ALONE
+
+
+I
+
+THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE
+
+  When children are playing alone on the green,
+  In comes the playmate that never was seen.
+  When children are happy and lonely and good,
+  The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.
+
+  Nobody heard him and nobody saw,
+  His is a picture you never could draw,
+  But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home,
+  When children are happy and playing alone.
+
+  He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,
+  He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;
+  Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why,
+  The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!
+
+  He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
+  'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
+  'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
+  That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
+
+  'Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,
+  Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;
+  For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
+  'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!
+
+
+II
+
+MY SHIP AND I
+
+  O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,
+    Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond;
+  And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;
+  But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out
+    How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.
+
+  For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm,
+    And the dolly I intend to come alive;
+  And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go,
+  It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow
+    And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.
+
+  O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,
+    And you'll hear the water singing at the prow;
+  For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore,
+  To land upon the island where no dolly was before,
+    And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.
+
+
+III
+
+MY KINGDOM
+
+  Down by a shining water well
+  I found a very little dell,
+    No higher than my head.
+  The heather and the gorse about
+  In summer bloom were coming out,
+    Some yellow and some red.
+
+  I called the little pool a sea;
+  The little hills were big to me;
+    For I am very small.
+  I made a boat, I made a town,
+  I searched the caverns up and down,
+    And named them one and all.
+
+  And all about was mine, I said,
+  The little sparrows overhead,
+    The little minnows too.
+  This was the world, and I was king;
+  For me the bees came by to sing,
+    For me the swallows flew.
+
+  I played there were no deeper seas,
+  Nor any wider plains than these,
+    Nor other kings than me.
+  At last I heard my mother call
+  Out from the house at even-fall,
+    To call me home to tea.
+
+  And I must rise and leave my dell,
+  And leave my dimpled water well,
+    And leave my heather blooms.
+  Alas! and as my home I neared,
+  How very big my nurse appeared,
+    How great and cool the rooms!
+
+
+IV
+
+PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER
+
+  Summer fading, winter comes--
+  Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
+  Window robins, winter rooks,
+  And the picture story-books.
+
+  Water now is turned to stone
+  Nurse and I can walk upon;
+  Still we find the flowing brooks
+  In the picture story-books.
+
+  All the pretty things put by
+  Wait upon the children's eye,
+  Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
+  In the picture story-books.
+
+  We may see how all things are,
+  Seas and cities, near and far,
+  And the flying fairies' looks,
+  In the picture story-books.
+
+  How am I to sing your praise,
+  Happy chimney-corner days,
+  Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
+  Reading picture story-books?
+
+
+V
+
+MY TREASURES
+
+  These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest
+  Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest,
+  Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me
+  In a wood with a well by the side of the sea.
+
+  This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!)
+  By the side of a field at the end of the grounds.
+  Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own,
+  It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone!
+
+  The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey,
+  We discovered I cannot tell _how_ far away;
+  And I carried it back, although weary and cold,
+  For, though father denies it, I'm sure it is gold.
+
+  But of all of my treasures the last is the king,
+  For there's very few children possess such a thing;
+  And that is a chisel, both handle and blade,
+  Which a man who was really a carpenter made.
+
+
+VI
+
+BLOCK CITY
+
+  What are you able to build with your blocks?
+  Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
+  Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
+  But I can be happy and building at home.
+
+  Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
+  There I'll establish a city for me:
+  A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
+  And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.
+
+  Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
+  A sort of a tower on the top of it all,
+  And steps coming down in an orderly way
+  To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
+
+  This one is sailing and that one is moored:
+  Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
+  And see, on the steps of my palace, the kings
+  Coming and going with presents and things!
+
+  Now I have done with it, down let it go!
+  All in a moment the town is laid low.
+  Block upon block lying scattered and free,
+  What is there left of my town by the sea?
+
+  Yet, as I saw it, I see it again,
+  The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men,
+  And as long as I live, and where'er I may be,
+  I'll always remember my town by the sea.
+
+
+VII
+
+THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS
+
+  At evening when the lamp is lit,
+  Around the fire my parents sit;
+  They sit at home and talk and sing,
+  And do not play at anything.
+
+  Now, with my little gun, I crawl
+  All in the dark along the wall,
+  And follow round the forest track
+  Away behind the sofa back.
+
+  There, in the night, where none can spy,
+  All in my hunter's camp I lie,
+  And play at books that I have read
+  Till it is time to go to bed.
+
+  These are the hills, these are the woods,
+  These are my starry solitudes;
+  And there the river by whose brink
+  The roaring lions come to drink.
+
+  I see the others far away
+  As if in firelit camp they lay,
+  And I, like to an Indian scout,
+  Around their party prowled about
+
+  So, when my nurse comes in for me,
+  Home I return across the sea,
+  And go to bed with backward looks
+  At my dear land of Story-books.
+
+
+VIII
+
+ARMIES IN THE FIRE
+
+  The lamps now glitter down the street;
+  Faintly sound the falling feet;
+  And the blue even slowly falls
+  About the garden trees and walls.
+
+  Now in the falling of the gloom
+  The red fire paints the empty room:
+  And warmly on the roof it looks,
+  And flickers on the backs of books.
+
+  Armies march by tower and spire
+  Of cities blazing, in the fire;--
+  Till as I gaze with staring eyes,
+  The armies fade, the lustre dies.
+
+  Then once again the glow returns;
+  Again the phantom city burns;
+  And down the red-hot valley, lo!
+  The phantom armies marching go!
+
+  Blinking embers, tell me true
+  Where are those armies marching to,
+  And what the burning city is
+  That crumbles in your furnaces!
+
+
+IX
+
+THE LITTLE LAND
+
+  When at home alone I sit
+  And am very tired of it,
+  I have just to shut my eyes
+  To go sailing through the skies--
+  To go sailing far away
+  To the pleasant Land of Play;
+  To the fairy land afar
+  Where the Little People are;
+  Where the clover-tops are trees,
+  And the rain-pools are the seas,
+  And the leaves like little ships
+  Sail about on tiny trips;
+  And above the daisy tree
+     Through the grasses,
+  High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
+     Hums and passes.
+
+  In that forest to and fro
+  I can wander, I can go;
+  See the spider and the fly,
+  And the ants go marching by
+  Carrying parcels with their feet
+  Down the green and grassy street.
+  I can in the sorrel sit
+  Where the ladybird alit.
+  I can climb the jointed grass;
+     And on high
+  See the greater swallows pass
+     In the sky,
+  And the round sun rolling by
+  Heeding no such things as I.
+
+  Through that forest I can pass
+  Till, as in a looking-glass,
+  Humming fly and daisy tree
+  And my tiny self I see
+  Painted very clear and neat
+  On the rain-pool at my feet.
+  Should a leaflet come to land
+  Drifting near to where I stand,
+  Straight I'll board that tiny boat
+  Round the rain-pool sea to float.
+
+  Little thoughtful creatures sit
+  On the grassy coasts of it;
+  Little things with lovely eyes
+  See me sailing with surprise.
+  Some are clad in armour green--
+  (These have sure to battle been!)--
+  Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
+  Black and crimson, gold and blue;
+  Some have wings and swift are gone;--
+  But they all look kindly on.
+
+  When my eyes I once again
+  Open and see all things plain;
+  High bare walls, great bare floor;
+  Great big knobs on drawer and door;
+  Great big people perched on chairs,
+  Stitching tucks and mending tears,
+  Each a hill that I could climb,
+  And talking nonsense all the time--
+     O dear me,
+     That I could be
+  A sailor on the rain-pool sea,
+  A climber in the clover-tree,
+  And just come back, a sleepy-head,
+  Late at night to go to bed.
+
+
+
+
+GARDEN DAYS
+
+
+I
+
+NIGHT AND DAY
+
+  When the golden day is done,
+    Through the closing portal,
+  Child and garden, flower and sun,
+    Vanish all things mortal.
+
+  As the blinding shadows fall,
+    As the rays diminish,
+  Under evening's cloak, they all
+    Roll away and vanish.
+
+  Garden darkened, daisy shut,
+    Child in bed, they slumber--
+  Glow-worm in the highway rut,
+    Mice among the lumber.
+
+  In the darkness houses shine,
+    Parents move with candles;
+  Till on all the night divine
+    Turns the bedroom handles.
+
+  Till at last the day begins
+    In the east a-breaking,
+  In the hedges and the whins
+    Sleeping birds a-waking.
+
+  In the darkness shapes of things,
+    Houses, trees, and hedges,
+  Clearer grow; and sparrows' wings
+    Beat on window ledges.
+
+  These shall wake the yawning maid;
+    She the door shall open--
+  Finding dew on garden glade
+    And the morning broken.
+
+  There my garden grows again
+    Green and rosy painted,
+  As at eve behind the pane
+    From my eyes it fainted.
+
+  Just as it was shut away,
+    Toy-like, in the even,
+  Here I see it glow with day
+    Under glowing heaven.
+
+  Every path and every plot,
+    Every bush of roses,
+  Every blue forget-me-not
+    Where the dew reposes,
+
+  "Up!" they cry, "the day is come
+    On the smiling valleys:
+  We have beat the morning drum;
+    Playmate, join your allies!"
+
+
+II
+
+NEST EGGS
+
+  Birds all the sunny day
+    Flutter and quarrel,
+  Here in the arbour-like
+    Tent of the laurel.
+
+  Here in the fork
+    The brown nest is seated;
+  Four little blue eggs
+    The mother keeps heated.
+
+  While we stand watching her,
+    Staring like gabies,
+  Safe in each egg are the
+    Bird's little babies.
+
+  Soon the frail eggs they shall
+    Chip, and upspringing
+  Make all the April woods
+    Merry with singing.
+
+  Younger than we are,
+    O children, and frailer,
+  Soon in blue air they'll be,
+    Singer and sailor.
+
+  We, so much older,
+    Taller and stronger,
+  We shall look down on the
+    Birdies no longer.
+
+  They shall go flying
+    With musical speeches
+  High overhead in the
+    Tops of the beeches.
+
+  In spite of our wisdom
+    And sensible talking,
+  We on our feet must go
+    Plodding and walking.
+
+
+III
+
+THE FLOWERS
+
+  All the names I know from nurse:
+  Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
+  Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
+  And the Lady Hollyhock.
+
+  Fairy places, fairy things,
+  Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
+  Tiny trees for tiny dames--
+  These must all be fairy names!
+
+  Tiny woods below whose boughs
+  Shady fairies weave a house;
+  Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
+  Where the braver fairies climb!
+
+  Fair are grown-up people's trees,
+  But the fairest woods are these;
+  Where if I were not so tall,
+  I should live for good and all.
+
+
+IV
+
+SUMMER SUN
+
+  Great is the sun, and wide he goes
+  Through empty heaven without repose;
+  And in the blue and glowing days
+  More thick than rain he showers his rays.
+
+  Though closer still the blinds we pull
+  To keep the shady parlour cool,
+  Yet he will find a chink or two
+  To slip his golden fingers through.
+
+  The dusty attic, spider-clad,
+  He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
+  And through the broken edge of tiles
+  Into the laddered hayloft smiles.
+
+  Meantime his golden face around
+  He bares to all the garden ground,
+  And sheds a warm and glittering look
+  Among the ivy's inmost nook.
+
+  Above the hills, along the blue,
+  Round the bright air with footing true,
+  To please the child, to paint the rose,
+  The gardener of the World, he goes.
+
+
+V
+
+THE DUMB SOLDIER
+
+  When the grass was closely mown,
+  Walking on the lawn alone,
+  In the turf a hole I found
+  And hid a soldier underground.
+
+  Spring and daisies came apace;
+  Grasses hide my hiding-place;
+  Grasses run like a green sea
+  O'er the lawn up to my knee.
+
+  Under grass alone he lies,
+  Looking up with leaden eyes,
+  Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
+  To the stars and to the sun.
+
+  When the grass is ripe like grain,
+  When the scythe is stoned again,
+  When the lawn is shaven clear,
+  Then my hole shall reappear.
+
+  I shall find him, never fear,
+  I shall find my grenadier;
+  But, for all that's gone and come,
+  I shall find my soldier dumb.
+
+  He has lived, a little thing,
+  In the grassy woods of spring;
+  Done, if he could tell me true,
+  Just as I should like to do.
+
+  He has seen the starry hours
+  And the springing of the flowers;
+  And the fairy things that pass
+  In the forests of the grass.
+
+  In the silence he has heard
+  Talking bee and ladybird,
+  And the butterfly has flown
+  O'er him as he lay alone.
+
+  Not a word will he disclose,
+  Not a word of all he knows.
+  I must lay him on the shelf,
+  And make up the tale myself.
+
+
+VI
+
+AUTUMN FIRES
+
+  In the other gardens
+    And all up the vale,
+  From the autumn bonfires
+    See the smoke trail!
+
+  Pleasant summer over,
+    And all the summer flowers,
+  The red fire blazes,
+    The grey smoke towers.
+
+  Sing a song of seasons!
+    Something bright in all!
+  Flowers in the summer,
+    Fires in the fall!
+
+
+VII
+
+THE GARDENER
+
+  The gardener does not love to talk,
+  He makes me keep the gravel walk;
+  And when he puts his tools away,
+  He locks the door and takes the key.
+
+  Away behind the currant row
+  Where no one else but cook may go,
+  Far in the plots, I see him dig,
+  Old and serious, brown and big.
+
+  He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
+  Nor wishes to be spoken to.
+  He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
+  And never seems to want to play.
+
+  Silly gardener! summer goes,
+  And winter comes with pinching toes,
+  When in the garden bare and brown
+  You must lay your barrow down.
+
+  Well now, and while the summer stays,
+  To profit by these garden days,
+  O how much wiser you would be
+  To play at Indian wars with me!
+
+
+VIII
+
+HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS
+
+  Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground,
+  That now you smoke your pipe around,
+  Has seen immortal actions done
+  And valiant battles lost and won.
+
+  Here we had best on tip-toe tread,
+  While I for safety march ahead,
+  For this is that enchanted ground
+  Where all who loiter slumber sound.
+
+  Here is the sea, here is the sand,
+  Here is simple Shepherd's Land,
+  Here are the fairy hollyhocks,
+  And there are Ali Baba's rocks.
+
+  But yonder, see! apart and high,
+  Frozen Siberia lies; where I,
+  With Robert Bruce and William Tell,
+  Was bound by an enchanter's spell.
+
+  There, then, a while in chains we lay,
+  In wintry dungeons, far from day;
+  But ris'n at length, with might and main,
+  Our iron fetters burst in twain.
+
+  Then all the horns were blown in town;
+  And, to the ramparts clanging down,
+  All the giants leaped to horse
+  And charged behind us through the gorse.
+
+  On we rode, the others and I,
+  Over the mountains blue, and by
+  The Silver River, the sounding sea,
+  And the robber woods of Tartary.
+
+  A thousand miles we galloped fast,
+  And down the witches' lane we passed,
+  And rode amain, with brandished sword,
+  Up to the middle, through the ford.
+
+  Last we drew rein--a weary three--
+  Upon the lawn, in time for tea,
+  And from our steeds alighted down
+  Before the gates of Babylon.
+
+
+
+
+ENVOYS
+
+
+I
+
+TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA
+
+    If two may read aright
+    These rhymes of old delight
+    And house and garden play,
+  You two, my cousins, and you only, may.
+
+    You in a garden green
+    With me were king and queen,
+    Were hunter, soldier, tar,
+  And all the thousand things that children are.
+
+    Now in the elders' seat
+    We rest with quiet feet,
+    And from the window-bay
+  We watch the children, our successors, play.
+
+    "Time was," the golden head
+    Irrevocably said;
+    But time which none can bind,
+  While flowing fast away, leaves love behind.
+
+
+II
+
+TO MY MOTHER
+
+  You too, my mother, read my rhymes
+  For love of unforgotten times,
+  And you may chance to hear once more
+  The little feet along the floor.
+
+
+III
+
+TO AUNTIE
+
+  _Chief of our aunts_--not only I,
+  But all your dozen of nurslings cry--
+  _What did the other children do?
+  And what were childhood, wanting you?_
+
+
+IV
+
+TO MINNIE
+
+  The red room with the giant bed
+  Where none but elders lay their head;
+  The little room where you and I
+  Did for a while together lie,
+  And, simple suitor, I your hand
+  In decent marriage did demand;
+  The great day-nursery, best of all,
+  With pictures pasted on the wall
+  And leaves upon the blind--
+  A pleasant room wherein to wake
+  And hear the leafy garden shake
+  And rustle in the wind--
+  And pleasant there to lie in bed
+  And see the pictures overhead--
+  The wars about Sebastopol,
+  The grinning guns along the wall,
+  The daring escalade,
+  The plunging ships, the bleating sheep,
+  The happy children ankle-deep,
+  And laughing as they wade:
+  All these are vanished clean away,
+  And the old manse is changed to-day;
+  It wears an altered face
+  And shields a stranger race.
+  The river, on from mill to mill,
+  Flows past our childhood's garden still;
+  But ah! we children never more
+  Shall watch it from the water-door!
+  Below the yew--it still is there--
+  Our phantom voices haunt the air
+  As we were still at play,
+  And I can hear them call and say:
+  "_How far is it to Babylon?_"
+
+  Ah, far enough, my dear,
+  Far, far enough from here--
+  Yet you have farther gone!
+  "_Can I get there by candlelight?_"
+  So goes the old refrain.
+  I do not know--perchance you might--
+  But only, children, hear it right,
+  Ah, never to return again!
+  The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt,
+  Shall break on hill and plain,
+  And put all stars and candles out,
+  Ere we be young again.
+
+  To you in distant India, these
+  I send across the seas,
+  Nor count it far across.
+  For which of us forgets
+  The Indian cabinets,
+  The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross,
+  The pied and painted birds and beans,
+  The junks and bangles, beads and screens,
+  The gods and sacred bells,
+  And the loud-humming, twisted shells?
+  The level of the parlour floor
+  Was honest, homely, Scottish shore;
+  But when we climbed upon a chair,
+  Behold the gorgeous East was there!
+  Be this a fable; and behold
+  Me in the parlour as of old,
+  And Minnie just above me set
+  In the quaint Indian cabinet!
+  Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf
+  Too high for me to reach myself.
+  Reach down a hand, my dear, and take
+  These rhymes for old acquaintance' sake.
+
+
+V
+
+TO MY NAME-CHILD
+
+    1
+
+  Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed,
+  Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read.
+  Then shall you discover that your name was printed down
+  By the English printers, long before, in London town.
+
+  In the great and busy city where the East and West are met,
+  All the little letters did the English printer set;
+  While you thought of nothing, and were still too young to play,
+  Foreign people thought of you in places far away.
+
+  Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the English lands
+  Other little children took the volume in their hands;
+  Other children questioned, in their homes across the seas:
+  Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother, please?
+
+    2
+
+  Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and go and play,
+  Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey,
+  Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried by the breeze,
+  Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas.
+
+  And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls to you,
+  Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do;
+  And that while you thought of no one, nearly half the world away
+  Some one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey!
+
+
+VI
+
+TO ANY READER
+
+  As from the house your mother sees
+  You playing round the garden trees,
+  So you may see, if you will look
+  Through the windows of this book,
+  Another child, far, far away,
+  And in another garden, play.
+  But do not think you can at all,
+  By knocking on the window, call
+  That child to hear you. He intent
+  Is all on his play-business bent.
+  He does not hear; he will not look,
+  Not yet be lured out of this book.
+  For, long ago, the truth to say,
+  He has grown up and gone away,
+  And it is but a child of air
+  That lingers in the garden there.
+
+
+
+
+UNDERWOODS
+
+
+  _Of all my verse, like not a single line;
+  But like my title, for it is not mine.
+  That title from a better man I stole;
+  Ah, how much better, had I stol'n the whole!_
+
+
+_DEDICATION_
+
+_There are men and classes of men that stand above the common herd: the
+soldier, the sailor, and the shepherd not unfrequently; the artist
+rarely; rarelier still, the clergyman; the physician almost as a rule.
+He is the flower (such as it is) of our civilisation; and when that
+stage of man is done with, and only remembered to be marvelled at in
+history, he will be thought to have shared as little as any in the
+defects of the period, and most notably exhibited the virtues of the
+race. Generosity he has, such as is possible to those who practise an
+art, never to those who drive a trade; discretion, tested by a hundred
+secrets; tact, tried in a thousand embarrassments; and, what are more
+important, Heraclean cheerfulness and courage. So it is that he brings
+air and cheer into the sickroom, and often enough, though not so often
+as he wishes, brings healing._
+
+_Gratitude is but a lame sentiment; thanks, when they are expressed, are
+often more embarrassing than welcome; and yet I must set forth mine to a
+few out of many doctors who have brought me comfort and help: to_ Dr.
+Willey _of San Francisco, whose kindness to a stranger it must be as
+grateful to him, as it is touching to me, to remember; to_ Dr. Karl
+Ruedi _of Davos, the good genius of the English in his frosty mountains;
+to_ Dr. Herbert _of Paris, whom I knew only for a week, and to_ Dr.
+Caissot _of Montpellier, whom I knew only for ten days, and who have yet
+written their names deeply in my memory; to_ Dr. Brandt _of Royat; to_
+Dr. Wakefield _of Nice; to_ Dr. Chepmell, _whose visits make it a
+pleasure to be ill; to_ Dr. Horace Dobell, _so wise in counsel; to_ Sir
+Andrew Clark, _so unwearied in kindness; and to that wise youth, my
+uncle_, Dr. Balfour.
+
+_I forget as many as I remember; and I ask both to pardon me, these for
+silence, those for inadequate speech. But one name I have kept on
+purpose to the last, because it is a household word with me, and because
+if I had not received favours from so many hands and in so many quarters
+of the world, it should have stood upon this page alone: that of my
+friend _Thomas Bodley Scott_ of Bournemouth. Will he accept this,
+although shared among so many, for a dedication to himself? and when
+next my ill-fortune (which has thus its pleasant side) brings him
+hurrying to me when he would fain sit down to meat or lie down to rest,
+will he care to remember that he takes this trouble for one who is not
+fool enough to be ungrateful?_
+
+  _R. L. S._
+
+  _Skerryvore,
+    Bournemouth._
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+IN ENGLISH
+
+
+UNDERWOODS
+
+
+I
+
+ENVOY
+
+  Go, little book, and wish to all
+  Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
+  A bin of wine, a spice of wit,
+  A house with lawns enclosing it,
+  A living river by the door,
+  A nightingale in the sycamore!
+
+
+II
+
+A SONG OF THE ROAD
+
+  The gauger walked with willing foot,
+  And aye the gauger played the flute;
+  And what should Master Gauger play
+  But _Over the hills and far away_?
+
+  Whene'er I buckle on my pack
+  And foot it gaily in the track,
+  O pleasant gauger, long since dead,
+  I hear you fluting on ahead.
+
+  You go with me the selfsame way--
+  The selfsame air for me you play;
+  For I do think and so do you
+  It is the tune to travel to.
+
+  For who would gravely set his face
+  To go to this or t'other place?
+  There's nothing under heav'n so blue
+  That's fairly worth the travelling to.
+
+  On every hand the roads begin,
+  And people walk with zeal therein;
+  But wheresoe'er the highways tend,
+  Be sure there's nothing at the end.
+
+  Then follow you, wherever hie
+  The travelling mountains of the sky.
+  Or let the streams in civil mode
+  Direct your choice upon a road;
+
+  For one and all, or high or low,
+  Will lead you where you wish to go;
+  And one and all go night and day
+  _Over the hills and far away_!
+
+    FOREST OF MONTARGIS, 1878.
+
+
+III
+
+THE CANOE SPEAKS
+
+  On the great streams the ships may go
+  About men's business to and fro.
+  But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep
+  On crystal waters ankle-deep:
+  I, whose diminutive design,
+  Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine,
+  Is fashioned on so frail a mould,
+  A hand may launch, a hand withhold:
+  I, rather, with the leaping trout
+  Wind, among lilies, in and out;
+  I, the unnamed, inviolate,
+  Green, rustic rivers navigate;
+  My dipping paddle scarcely shakes
+  The berry in the bramble-brakes;
+  Still forth on my green way I wend
+  Beside the cottage garden-end;
+  And by the nested angler fare,
+  And take the lovers unaware.
+  By willow wood and water-wheel
+  Speedily fleets my touching keel;
+  By all retired and shady spots
+  Where prosper dim forget-me-nots;
+  By meadows where at afternoon
+  The growing maidens troop in June
+  To loose their girdles on the grass.
+  Ah! speedier than before the glass
+  The backward toilet goes; and swift
+  As swallows quiver, robe and shift
+  And the rough country stockings lie
+  Around each young divinity.
+  When, following the recondite brook,
+  Sudden upon this scene I look,
+  And light with unfamiliar face
+  On chaste Diana's bathing-place,
+  Loud ring the hills about and all
+  The shallows are abandoned....
+
+
+IV
+
+  It is the season now to go
+  About the country high and low,
+  Among the lilacs hand in hand,
+  And two by two in fairyland.
+
+  The brooding boy, the sighing maid,
+  Wholly fain and half afraid,
+  Now meet along the hazel'd brook
+  To pass and linger, pause and look.
+
+  A year ago, and blithely paired,
+  Their rough-and-tumble play they shared;
+  They kissed and quarrelled, laughed and cried,
+  A year ago at Eastertide.
+
+  With bursting heart, with fiery face,
+  She strove against him in the race;
+  He unabashed her garter saw,
+  That now would touch her skirts with awe.
+
+  Now by the stile ablaze she stops,
+  And his demurer eyes he drops;
+  Now they exchange averted sighs
+  Or stand and marry silent eyes.
+
+  And he to her a hero is
+  And sweeter she than primroses;
+  Their common silence dearer far
+  Than nightingale and mavis are.
+
+  Now when they sever wedded hands,
+  Joy trembles in their bosom-strands
+  And lovely laughter leaps and falls
+  Upon their lips in madrigals.
+
+
+V
+
+THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL
+
+  _A naked house, a naked moor,
+  A shivering pool before the door,
+  A garden bare of flowers and fruit
+  And poplars at the garden foot:
+  Such is the place that I live in,
+  Bleak without and bare within._
+
+  Yet shall your ragged moor receive
+  The incomparable pomp of eve,
+  And the cold glories of the dawn
+  Behind your shivering trees be drawn;
+  And when the wind from place to place
+  Doth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase,
+  Your garden gloom and gleam again,
+  With leaping sun, with glancing rain.
+  Here shall the wizard moon ascend
+  The heavens, in the crimson end
+  Of day's declining splendour; here
+  The army of the stars appear.
+  The neighbour hollows, dry or wet,
+  Spring shall with tender flowers beset;
+  And oft the morning muser see
+  Larks rising from the broomy lea,
+  And every fairy wheel and thread
+  Of cobweb, dew-bediamonded.
+  When daisies go, shall winter-time
+  Silver the simple grass with rime;
+  Autumnal frosts enchant the pool
+  And make the cart-ruts beautiful;
+  And when snow-bright the moor expands,
+  How shall your children clap their hands!
+  To make this earth, our hermitage,
+  A cheerful and a changeful page,
+  God's bright and intricate device
+  Of days and seasons doth suffice.
+
+
+VI
+
+A VISIT FROM THE SEA
+
+  Far from the loud sea beaches
+    Where he goes fishing and crying,
+  Here in the inland garden
+    Why is the sea-gull flying?
+
+  Here are no fish to dive for;
+    Here is the corn and lea;
+  Here are the green trees rustling.
+    Hie away home to sea!
+
+  Fresh is the river water
+    And quiet among the rushes;
+  This is no home for the sea-gull,
+    But for the rooks and thrushes.
+
+  Pity the bird that has wandered!
+    Pity the sailor ashore!
+  Hurry him home to the ocean,
+    Let him come here no more!
+
+  High on the sea-cliff ledges
+    The white gulls are trooping and crying,
+  Here among rooks and roses,
+    Why is the sea-gull flying?
+
+
+VII
+
+TO A GARDENER
+
+  Friend, in my mountain-side demesne,
+  My plain-beholding, rosy, green
+  And linnet-haunted garden-ground,
+  Let still the esculents abound.
+  Let first the onion flourish there,
+  Rose among roots, the maiden-fair,
+  Wine-scented and poetic soul
+  Of the capacious salad-bowl.
+  Let thyme the mountaineer (to dress
+  The tinier birds) and wading cress,
+  The lover of the shallow brook,
+  From all my plots and borders look.
+  Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor
+  Pease-cods for the child's pinafore
+  Be lacking; nor of salad clan
+  The last and least that ever ran
+  About great nature's garden-beds.
+  Nor thence be missed the speary heads
+  Of artichoke; nor thence the bean
+  That gathered innocent and green
+  Outsavours the belauded pea.
+
+  These tend, I prithee; and for me,
+  Thy most long-suffering master, bring
+  In April, when the linnets sing
+  And the days lengthen more and more,
+  At sundown to the garden door.
+  And I, being provided thus,
+  Shall, with superb asparagus,
+  A book, a taper, and a cup
+  Of country wine, divinely sup.
+
+    LA SOLITUDE, HY�RES.
+
+
+VIII
+
+TO MINNIE
+
+(WITH A HAND-GLASS)
+
+  A picture-frame for you to fill,
+    A paltry setting for your face,
+  A thing that has no worth until
+    You lend it something of your grace,
+
+  I send (unhappy I that sing
+    Laid by a while upon the shelf)
+  Because I would not send a thing
+    Less charming than you are yourself.
+
+  And happier than I, alas!
+    (Dumb thing, I envy its delight)
+  'Twill wish you well, the looking-glass,
+    And look you in the face to-night.
+
+    1869.
+
+
+IX
+
+TO K. DE M.
+
+  A lover of the moorland bare
+  And honest country winds you were;
+  The silver-skimming rain you took;
+  And love the floodings of the brook,
+  Dew, frost and mountains, fire and seas,
+  Tumultuary silences,
+  Winds that in darkness fifed a tune,
+  And the high-riding, virgin moon.
+
+  And as the berry, pale and sharp,
+  Springs on some ditch's counterscarp
+  In our ungenial, native north--
+  You put your frosted wildings forth,
+  And on the heath, afar from man,
+  A strong and bitter virgin ran.
+
+  The berry ripened keeps the rude
+  And racy flavour of the wood.
+  And you that loved the empty plain
+  All redolent of wind and rain,
+  Around you still the curlew sings--
+  The freshness of the weather clings--
+  The maiden jewels of the rain
+  Sit in your dabbled locks again.
+
+
+X
+
+TO N. V. DE G. S.
+
+  The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears,
+  The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings
+  Dispart us; and the river of events
+  Has, for an age of years, to east and west
+  More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me
+  Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn
+  Descry a land far off, and know not which.
+  So I approach uncertain; so I cruise
+  Round thy mysterious islet, and behold
+  Surf and great mountains and loud river-bars,
+  And from the shore hear inland voices call.
+  Strange is the seaman's heart; he hopes, he fears;
+  Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast;
+  Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep
+  His shattered prow uncomforted puts back.
+  Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm
+  Of that bright island; where he feared to touch,
+  His spirit re-adventures; and for years,
+  Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home,
+  Thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees
+  The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes
+  Yearning for that far home that might have been.
+
+
+XI
+
+TO WILL. H. LOW
+
+  Youth now flees on feathered foot,
+  Faint and fainter sounds the flute,
+  Rarer songs of gods; and still
+  Somewhere on the sunny hill,
+  Or along the winding stream,
+  Through the willows, flits a dream;
+  Flits but shows a smiling face,
+  Flees, but with so quaint a grace,
+  None can choose to stay at home,
+  All must follow, all must roam.
+
+  This is unborn beauty: she
+  Now in air floats high and free.
+  Takes the sun and makes the blue;--
+  Late with stooping pinion flew
+  Raking hedgerow trees, and wet
+  Her wing in silver streams, and set
+  Shining foot on temple roof:
+  Now again she flies aloof,
+  Coasting mountain clouds and kiss't
+  By the evening's amethyst.
+  In wet wood and miry lane,
+  Still we pant and pound in vain;
+  Still with leaden foot we chase
+  Waning pinion, fainting face;
+  Still with grey hair we stumble on,
+  Till, behold, the vision gone!
+  Where hath fleeting beauty led?
+  To the doorway of the dead.
+  Life is over, life was gay:
+  We have come the primrose way.
+
+
+XII
+
+TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW
+
+  Even in the bluest noonday of July,
+  There could not run the smallest breath of wind
+  But all the quarter sounded like a wood;
+  And in the chequered silence and above
+  The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois,
+  Suburban ashes shivered into song.
+  A patter and a chatter and a chirp
+  And a long dying hiss--it was as though
+  Starched old brocaded dames through all the house
+  Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky
+  Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain.
+  Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks
+  Of the near Autumn, how the smitten ash
+  Trembles and augurs floods! O not too long
+  In these inconstant latitudes delay,
+  O not too late from the unbeloved north
+  Trim your escape! For soon shall this low roof
+  Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your eyes
+  Search the foul garden, search the darkened rooms,
+  Nor find one jewel but the blazing log.
+
+    12 RUE VERNIER, PARIS.
+
+
+XIII
+
+TO H. F. BROWN
+
+(WRITTEN DURING A DANGEROUS SICKNESS)
+
+  I sit and wait a pair of oars
+  On cis-Elysian river-shores.
+  Where the immortal dead have sate,
+  'Tis mine to sit and meditate;
+  To re-ascend life's rivulet,
+  Without remorse, without regret;
+  And sing my _Alma Genetrix_
+  Among the willows of the Styx.
+
+  And lo, as my serener soul
+  Did these unhappy shores patrol,
+  And wait with an attentive ear
+  The coming of the gondolier,
+  Your fire-surviving roll I took,
+  Your spirited and happy book;[1]
+  Whereon, despite my frowning fate,
+  It did my soul so recreate
+  That all my fancies fled away
+  On a Venetian holiday.
+
+  Now, thanks to your triumphant care,
+  Your pages clear as April air,
+  The sails, the bells, the birds, I know,
+  And the far-off Friulan snow;
+  The land and sea, the sun and shade,
+  And the blue even lamp-inlaid.
+  For this, for these, for all, O friend,
+  For your whole book from end to end--
+  For Paron Piero's mutton-ham--
+  I your defaulting debtor am.
+
+  Perchance, reviving, yet may I
+  To your sea-paven city hie,
+  And in a _felze_ some day yet
+  Light at your pipe my cigarette.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+  [1] "Life on the Lagoons," by H. F. Brown, originally burned in the
+    fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.'s.
+
+
+XIV
+
+TO ANDREW LANG
+
+  Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair,
+  Who glory to have thrown in air,
+  High over arm, the trembling reed,
+  By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed:
+  An equal craft of hand you show
+  The pen to guide, the fly to throw:
+  I count you happy-starred; for God,
+  When He with inkpot and with rod
+  Endowed you, bade your fortune lead
+  For ever by the crooks of Tweed,
+  For ever by the woods of song
+  And lands that to the Muse belong;
+  Or if in peopled streets, or in
+  The abhorred pedantic sanhedrin,
+  It should be yours to wander, still
+  Airs of the morn, airs of the hill,
+  The plovery Forest and the seas
+  That break about the Hebrides,
+  Should follow over field and plain
+  And find you at the window-pane;
+  And you again see hill and peel,
+  And the bright springs gush at your heel.
+  So went the fiat forth, and so
+  Garrulous like a brook you go,
+  With sound of happy mirth and sheen
+  Of daylight--whether by the green
+  You fare that moment, or the grey;
+  Whether you dwell in March or May;
+  Or whether treat of reels and rods
+  Or of the old unhappy gods:
+  Still like a brook your page has shone,
+  And your ink sings of Helicon.
+
+
+XV
+
+ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI
+
+(TO R. A. M. S.)
+
+  In ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt;
+  There, from of old, thy childhood passed; and there
+  High expectation, high delights and deeds,
+  Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved.
+  And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast,
+  And Roland's horn, and that war-scattering shout
+  Of all-unarmed Achilles, �gis-crowned.
+  And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores
+  And seas and forests drear, island and dale
+  And mountain dark. For thou with Tristram rod'st
+  Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse.
+  Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat
+  Side-looking Magians trafficked; thence, by night,
+  An Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore
+  Beyond the Aral Mount; or, hoping gain,
+  Thou, with a jar of money, didst embark
+  For Balsorah by sea. But chiefly thou
+  In that clear air took'st life; in Arcady
+  The haunted, land of song; and by the wells
+  Where most the gods frequent. There Chiron old,
+  In the Pelethronian antre, taught thee lore;
+  The plants he taught, and by the shining stars
+  In forests dim to steer. There hast thou seen
+  Immortal Pan dance secret in a glade,
+  And, dancing, roll his eyes; these, where they fell,
+  Shed glee, and through the congregated oaks
+  A flying horror winged; while all the earth
+  To the god's pregnant footing thrilled within.
+  Or whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he breathed,
+  In his clutched pipe unformed and wizard strains
+  Divine yet brutal; which the forest heard,
+  And thou, with awe; and far upon the plain
+  The unthinking ploughman started and gave ear.
+
+  Now things there are that, upon him who sees,
+  A strong vocation lay; and strains there are
+  That whoso hears shall hear for evermore.
+  For evermore thou hear'st immortal Pan
+  And those melodious godheads, ever young
+  And ever quiring, on the mountains old.
+
+  What was this earth, child of the gods, to thee?
+  Forth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer, cam'st
+  And in thine ears the olden music rang,
+  And in thy mind the doings of the dead,
+  And those heroic ages long forgot.
+  To a so fallen earth, alas! too late,
+  Alas! in evil days, thy steps return,
+  To list at noon for nightingales, to grow
+  A dweller on the beach till Argo come
+  That came long since, a lingerer by the pool
+  Where that desir�d angel bathes no more.
+  As when the Indian to Dakota comes,
+  Or farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt,
+  He with his clan, a humming city finds;
+  Thereon a while, amazed, he stares, and then
+  To right and leftward, like a questing dog,
+  Seeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth
+  Long cold with rains, and where old terror lodged,
+  And where the dead: so thee undying Hope,
+  With all her pack, hunts screaming through the years:
+  Here, there, thou flee�st; but nor here nor there
+  The pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells.
+
+  That, that was not Apollo, not the god.
+  This was not Venus, though she Venus seemed
+  A moment. And though fair yon river move,
+  She, all the way, from disenchanted fount
+  To seas unhallowed runs; the gods forsook
+  Long since her trembling rushes; from her plains
+  Disconsolate, long since adventure fled;
+  And now although the inviting river flows,
+  And every poplared cape, and every bend
+  Or willowy islet, win upon thy soul
+  And to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed;
+  Yet hope not thou at all; hope is no more;
+  And O, long since the golden groves are dead
+  The fa�ry cities vanished from the land!
+
+
+XVI
+
+TO W.E. HENLEY
+
+  The year runs through her phases; rain and sun,
+  Spring-time and summer pass; winter succeeds;
+  But one pale season rules the house of death.
+  Cold falls the imprisoned daylight; fell disease
+  By each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep
+  Toss gaping on the pillows.
+                                 But O thou!
+  Uprise and take thy pipe. Bid music flow,
+  Strains by good thoughts attended, like the spring
+  The swallows follow over land and sea.
+  Pain sleeps at once; at once, with open eyes,
+  Dozing despair awakes. The shepherd sees
+  His flock come bleating home; the seaman hears
+  Once more the cordage rattle. Airs of home!
+  Youth, love, and roses blossom; the gaunt ward
+  Dislimns and disappears, and, opening out,
+  Shows brooks and forests, and the blue beyond
+  Of mountains.
+                   Small the pipe; but O! do thou,
+  Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein
+  The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,
+  These dying, sound the triumph over death.
+  Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy
+  Unknown before, in dying; for each knows
+  A hero dies with him--though unfulfilled,
+  Yet conquering truly--and not dies in vain.
+
+  So is pain cheered, death comforted; the house
+  Of sorrow smiles to listen. Once again--
+  O thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard
+  And the deliverer, touch the stops again!
+
+
+XVII
+
+HENRY JAMES
+
+  Who comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain.
+  Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain
+  The presences that now together throng
+  Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song,
+  As with the air of life, the breath of talk?
+  Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk
+  Behind their jocund maker; and we see
+  Slighted _De Mauves_, and that far different she,
+  _Gressie_, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast
+  _Daisy_ and _Barb_ and _Chancellor_ (she not least!)
+  With all their silken, all their airy kin,
+  Do like unbidden angels enter in.
+  But he, attended by these shining names,
+  Comes (best of all) himself--our welcome James.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+THE MIRROR SPEAKS
+
+  Where the bells peal far at sea
+  Cunning fingers fashioned me.
+  There on palace walls I hung
+  While that Consuelo sung;
+  But I heard, though I listened well,
+  Never a note, never a trill,
+  Never a beat of the chiming bell.
+  There I hung and looked, and there
+  In my grey face, faces fair
+  Shone from under shining hair.
+  Well I saw the poising head,
+  But the lips moved and nothing said;
+  And when lights were in the hall,
+  Silent moved the dancers all.
+
+  So a while I glowed, and then
+  Fell on dusty days and men;
+  Long I slumbered packed in straw,
+  Long I none but dealers saw;
+  Till before my silent eye
+  One that sees came passing by.
+  Now with an outlandish grace,
+  To the sparkling fire I face
+  In the blue room at Skerryvore;
+  Where I wait until the door
+  Open, and the Prince of Men,
+  Henry James, shall come again.
+
+
+XIX
+
+KATHARINE
+
+  We see you as we see a face
+  That trembles in a forest place
+  Upon the mirror of a pool
+  For ever quiet, clear, and cool;
+  And, in the wayward glass, appears
+  To hover between smiles and tears,
+  Elfin and human, airy and true,
+  And backed by the reflected blue.
+
+
+XX
+
+TO F. J. S.
+
+  I read, dear friend, in your dear face
+  Your life's tale told with perfect grace;
+  The river of your life I trace
+  Up the sun-chequered, devious bed
+  To the far-distant fountain-head.
+
+  Not one quick beat of your warm heart,
+  Nor thought that came to you apart,
+  Pleasure nor pity, love nor pain
+  Nor sorrow, has gone by in vain;
+  But as some lone, wood-wandering child
+  Brings home with him at evening mild
+  The thorns and flowers of all the wild,
+  From your whole life, O fair and true,
+  Your flowers and thorns you bring with you!
+
+
+XXI
+
+REQUIEM
+
+  Under the wide and starry sky,
+  Dig the grave and let me lie.
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+    And I laid me down with a will.
+
+  This be the verse you grave for me:
+  _Here he lies where he longed to be;
+  Home is the sailor, home from sea,
+    And the hunter home from the hill._
+
+    HY�RES, _May 1884_.
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE CELESTIAL SURGEON
+
+  If I have faltered more or less
+  In my great task of happiness;
+  If I have moved among my race
+  And shown no glorious morning face;
+  If beams from happy human eyes
+  Have moved me not; if morning skies,
+  Books, and my food, and summer rain
+  Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:--
+  Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take
+  And stab my spirit broad awake;
+  Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,
+  Choose Thou, before that spirit die,
+  A piercing pain, a killing sin,
+  And to my dead heart run them in!
+
+
+XXIII
+
+OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS
+
+  Out of the sun, out of the blast,
+  Out of the world, alone I passed
+  Across the moor and through the wood
+  To where the monastery stood.
+  There neither lute nor breathing fife,
+  Nor rumour of the world of life,
+  Nor confidences low and dear,
+  Shall strike the meditative ear.
+  Aloof, unhelpful, and unkind,
+  The prisoners of the iron mind,
+  Where nothing speaks except the bell,
+  The unfraternal brothers dwell.
+
+  Poor passionate men, still clothed afresh
+  With agonising folds of flesh;
+  Whom the clear eyes solicit still
+  To some bold output of the will,
+  While fairy Fancy far before
+  And musing Memory-Hold-the-door
+  Now to heroic death invite
+  And now uncurtain fresh delight:
+  O, little boots it thus to dwell
+  On the remote unneighboured hill!
+
+  O to be up and doing, O
+  Unfearing and unshamed to go
+  In all the uproar and the press
+  About my human business!
+  My undissuaded heart I hear
+  Whisper courage in my ear.
+  With voiceless calls, the ancient earth
+  Summons me to a daily birth.
+  Thou, O my love, ye, O my friends--
+  The gist of life, the end of ends--
+  To laugh, to love, to live, to die,
+  Ye call me by the ear and eye!
+
+  Forth from the casemate, on the plain
+  Where honour has the world to gain,
+  Pour forth and bravely do your part,
+  O knights of the unshielded heart!
+  Forth and for ever forward!--out
+  From prudent turret and redoubt,
+  And in the mellay charge amain,
+  To fall but yet to rise again!
+  Captive?  ah, still, to honour bright,
+  A captive soldier of the right!
+  Or free and fighting, good with ill?
+  Unconquering but unconquered still!
+
+  And ye, O brethren, what if God,
+  When from Heav'n's top He spies abroad,
+  And sees on this tormented stage
+  The noble war of mankind rage:
+  What if His vivifying eye,
+  O monks, should pass your corner by?
+  For still the Lord is Lord of might;
+  In deeds, in deeds, He takes delight;
+  The plough, the spear, the laden barks,
+  The field, the founded city, marks;
+  He marks the smiler of the streets,
+  The singer upon garden seats;
+
+  He sees the climber in the rocks:
+  To Him, the shepherd folds his flocks.
+  For those He loves that underprop
+  With daily virtues Heaven's top,
+  And bear the falling sky with ease,
+  Unfrowning caryatides.
+  Those He approves that ply the trade,
+  That rock the child, that wed the maid,
+  That with weak virtues, weaker hands,
+  Sow gladness on the peopled lands.
+  And still with laughter, song and shout,
+  Spin the great wheel of earth about.
+
+  But ye?--O ye who linger still
+  Here in your fortress on the hill,
+  With placid face, with tranquil breath,
+  The unsought volunteers of death,
+  Our cheerful General on high
+  With careless looks may pass you by.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Not yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert,
+  Where thou with grass, and rivers, and the breeze,
+  And the bright face of day, thy dalliance hadst;
+  Where to thine ear first sang the enraptured birds;
+  Where love and thou that lasting bargain made.
+  The ship rides trimmed, and from the eternal shore
+  Thou hearest airy voices; but not yet
+  Depart, my soul, not yet a while depart.
+
+  Freedom is far, rest far. Thou art with life
+  Too closely woven, nerve with nerve entwined;
+  Service still craving service, love for love,
+  Love for dear love, still suppliant with tears.
+  Alas, not yet thy human task is done!
+  A bond at birth is forged; a debt doth lie
+  Immortal on mortality. It grows--
+  By vast rebound it grows, unceasing growth;
+  Gift upon gift, alms upon alms, upreared,
+  From man, from God, from nature, till the soul
+  At that so huge indulgence stands amazed.
+
+  Leave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor leave
+  Thy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert
+  Without due service rendered. For thy life,
+  Up, spirit, and defend that fort of clay,
+  Thy body, now beleaguered; whether soon
+  Or late she fall; whether to-day thy friends
+  Bewail thee dead, or, after years, a man
+  Grown old in honour and the friend of peace.
+  Contend, my soul, for moments and for hours;
+  Each is with service pregnant; each reclaimed
+  Is as a kingdom conquered, where to reign.
+
+  As when a captain rallies to the fight
+  His scattered legions, and beats ruin back,
+  He, on the field, encamps, well pleased in mind.
+  Yet surely him shall fortune overtake,
+  Him smite in turn, headlong his ensigns drive;
+  And that dear land, now safe, to-morrow fall.
+  But he, unthinking, in the present good
+  Solely delights, and all the camps rejoice.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  It is not yours, O mother, to complain,
+  Not, mother, yours to weep,
+  Though nevermore your son again
+  Shall to your bosom creep,
+  Though nevermore again you watch your baby sleep.
+
+  Though in the greener paths of earth,
+  Mother and child, no more
+  We wander; and no more the birth
+  Of me whom once you bore
+  Seems still the brave reward that once it seemed of yore;
+
+  Though as all passes, day and night,
+  The seasons and the years,
+  From you, O mother, this delight,
+  This also disappears--
+  Some profit yet survives of all your pangs and tears.
+
+  The child, the seed, the grain of corn,
+  The acorn on the hill,
+  Each for some separate end is born
+  In season fit, and still
+  Each must in strength arise to work the almighty will.
+
+  So from the hearth the children flee,
+  By that almighty hand
+  Austerely led; so one by sea
+  Goes forth, and one by land;
+  Nor aught of all man's sons escapes from that command.
+
+  So from the sally each obeys
+  The unseen almighty nod;
+  So till the ending all their ways
+  Blindfolded loth have trod:
+  Nor knew their task at all, but were the tools of God.
+
+  And as the fervent smith of yore
+  Beat out the glowing blade,
+  Nor wielded in the front of war
+  The weapons that he made,
+  But in the tower at home still plied his ringing trade;
+
+  So like a sword the son shall roam
+  On nobler missions sent;
+  And as the smith remained at home
+  In peaceful turret pent,
+  So sits the while at home the mother well content.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+THE SICK CHILD
+
+    CHILD
+
+  O Mother, lay your hand on my brow!
+  O mother, mother, where am I now?
+  Why is the room so gaunt and great?
+  Why am I lying awake so late?
+
+    MOTHER
+
+  Fear not at all: the night is still.
+  Nothing is here that means you ill--
+  Nothing but lamps the whole town through,
+  And never a child awake but you.
+
+    CHILD
+
+  Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,
+  Some of the things are so great and near,
+  Some are so small and far away,
+  I have a fear that I cannot say.
+  What have I done, and what do I fear,
+  And why are you crying, mother dear?
+
+    MOTHER
+
+  Out in the city, sounds begin,
+  Thank the kind God, the carts come in!
+  An hour or two more, and God is so kind,
+  The day shall be blue in the window-blind,
+  Then shall my child go sweetly asleep,
+  And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+IN MEMORIAM F.A.S.
+
+  Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
+    How of human days he lived the better part.
+  April came to bloom and never dim December
+    Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.
+
+  Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being
+    Trod the flowery April blithely for a while,
+  Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing,
+    Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.
+
+  Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished,
+    You alone have crossed the melancholy stream,
+  Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished
+    Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.
+
+  All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
+    Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a name.
+  Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season,
+    And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came.
+
+    DAVOS, 1881.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+TO MY FATHER
+
+  Peace and her huge invasion to these shores
+  Puts daily home; innumerable sails
+  Dawn on the far horizon and draw near;
+  Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes
+  To our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach:
+  Not now obscure, since thou and thine are there,
+  And bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef,
+  The long, resounding foreland, Pharos stands.
+
+  These are thy works, O father, these thy crown;
+  Whether on high the air be pure, they shine
+  Along the yellowing sunset, and all night
+  Among the unnumbered stars of God they shine;
+  Or whether fogs arise and far and wide
+  The low sea-level drown--each finds a tongue
+  And all night long the tolling bell resounds:
+  So shine, so toll, till night be overpast,
+  Till the stars vanish, till the sun return,
+  And in the haven rides the fleet secure.
+
+  In the first hour, the seaman in his skiff
+  Moves through the unmoving bay, to where the town
+  Its earliest smoke into the air upbreathes,
+  And the rough hazels climb along the beach.
+  To the tugged oar the distant echo speaks.
+  The ship lies resting, where by reef and roost
+  Thou and thy lights have led her like a child.
+
+  This hast thou done, and I--can I be base?
+  I must arise, O father, and to port
+  Some lost, complaining seaman pilot home.
+
+
+XXIX
+
+IN THE STATES
+
+  With half a heart I wander here
+    As from an age gone by
+  A brother--yet though young in years,
+    An elder brother, I.
+
+  You speak another tongue than mine,
+    Though both were English born.
+  I towards the night of time decline
+    You mount into the morn.
+
+  Youth shall grow great and strong and free,
+    But age must still decay:
+  To-morrow for the States,--for me,
+    England and Yesterday.
+
+    SAN FRANCISCO.
+
+
+XXX
+
+A PORTRAIT
+
+  I am a kind of farthing dip,
+    Unfriendly to the nose and eyes;
+  A blue-behinded ape, I skip
+    Upon the trees of Paradise.
+
+  At mankind's feast, I take my place
+    In solemn, sanctimonious state,
+  And have the air of saying grace
+    While I defile the dinner-plate.
+
+  I am "the smiler with the knife,"
+    The battener upon garbage, I--
+  Dear Heaven, with such a rancid life
+    Were it not better far to die?
+
+  Yet still, about the human pale,
+    I love to scamper, love to race,
+  To swing by my irreverent tail
+    All over the most holy place;
+
+  And when at length, some golden day,
+    The unfailing sportsman, aiming at,
+  Shall bag, me--all the world shall say:
+    _Thank God, and there's an end of that!_
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still,
+  Sing truer or no longer sing!
+  No more the voice of melancholy Jaques
+  To wake a weeping echo in the hill;
+  But as the boy, the pirate of the spring,
+  From the green elm a living linnet takes,
+  One natural verse recapture--then be still.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+A CAMP[1]
+
+  The bed was made, the room was fit,
+  By punctual eve the stars were lit;
+  The air was still, the water ran,
+  No need was there for maid or man,
+  When we put up, my ass and I,
+  At God's green caravanserai.
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS[1]
+
+  We travelled in the print of olden wars;
+        Yet all the land was green;
+        And love we found, and peace,
+        Where fire and war had been.
+
+  They pass and smile, the children of the sword--
+        No more the sword they wield;
+        And O, how deep the corn
+        Along the battlefield!
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+  [1] From "Travels with a Donkey."
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+SKERRYVORE
+
+  For love of lovely words, and for the sake
+  Of those, my kinsmen and my countrymen,
+  Who early and late in the windy ocean toiled
+  To plant a star for seamen, where was then
+  The surfy haunt of seals and cormorants:
+  I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe
+  The name of a strong tower.
+
+
+XXXV
+
+SKERRYVORE
+
+THE PARALLEL
+
+  Here all is sunny, and when the truant gull
+  Skims the green level of the lawn, his wing
+  Dispetals roses; here the house is framed
+  Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain pine,
+  Such clay as artists fashion and such wood
+  As the tree-climbing urchin breaks. But there
+  Eternal granite hewn from the living isle
+  And dowelled with brute iron, rears a tower
+  That from its wet foundation to its crown
+  Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep of winds,
+  Immovable, immortal, eminent.
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+  _My house_, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
+  That make my roof the arena of their loves,
+  That gyre about the gable all day long
+  And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:
+  _Our house_, they say; and _mine_, the cat declares
+  And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;
+  And _mine_ the dog, and rises stiff with wrath
+  If any alien foot profane the path.
+  So too the buck that trimmed my terraces,
+  Our whilome gardener, called the garden his;
+  Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode
+  And his late kingdom, only from the road.
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+  My body which my dungeon is,
+  And yet my parks and palaces:--
+    Which is so great that there I go
+  All the day long to and fro,
+  And when the night begins to fall
+  Throw down my bed and sleep, while all
+  The building hums with wakefulness--
+  Even as a child of savages
+  When evening takes her on her way
+  (She having roamed a summer's day
+  Along the mountain-sides and scalp),
+  Sleeps in an antre of that alp:--
+    Which is so broad and high that there,
+  As in the topless fields of air,
+  My fancy soars like to a kite
+  And faints in the blue infinite:--
+    Which is so strong, my strongest throes
+  And the rough world's besieging blows
+  Not break it, and so weak withal,
+  Death ebbs and flows in its loose wall
+  As the green sea in fishers' nets,
+  And tops its topmost parapets:--
+    Which is so wholly mine that I
+  Can wield its whole artillery,
+  And mine so little, that my soul
+  Dwells in perpetual control,
+  And I but think and speak and do
+  As my dead fathers move me to:--
+    If this born body of my bones
+  The beggared soul so barely owns,
+  What money passed from hand to hand,
+  What creeping custom of the land,
+  What deed of author or assign,
+  Can make a house a thing of mine?
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+  Say not of me that weakly I declined
+  The labours of my sires, and fled the sea,
+  The towers we founded and the lamps we lit,
+  To play at home with paper like a child.
+  But rather say: _In the afternoon of time
+  A strenuous family dusted from its hands
+  The sand of granite, and beholding far
+  Along the sounding coast its pyramids
+  And tall memorials catch the dying sun,
+  Smiled well content, and to this childish task
+  Around the fire addressed its evening hours._
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+IN SCOTS
+
+
+NOTE TO BOOK II
+
+The human conscience has fled of late the troublesome domain of conduct
+for what I should have supposed to be the less congenial field of art:
+there she may now be said to rage, and with special severity in all that
+touches dialect: so that in every novel the letters of the alphabet are
+tortured, and the reader wearied, to commemorate shades of
+mispronunciation. Now, spelling is an art of great difficulty in my
+eyes, and I am inclined to lean upon the printer, even in common
+practice, rather than to venture abroad upon new quests. And the Scots
+tongue has an orthography of its own, lacking neither "authority nor
+author." Yet the temptation is great to lend a little guidance to the
+bewildered Englishman. Some simple phonetic artifice might defend your
+verses from barbarous mishandling, and yet not injure any vested
+interest. So it seems at first; but there are rocks ahead. Thus, if I
+wish the diphthong _ou_ to have its proper value, I may write _oor_
+instead of _our_; many have done so and lived, and the pillars of the
+universe remained unshaken. But if I did so, and came presently to
+_doun_, which is the classical Scots spelling of the English _down_, I
+should begin to feel uneasy; and if I went on a little further, and came
+to a classical Scots word, like _stour_ or _dour_ or _clour_, I should
+know precisely where I was--that is to say, that I was out of sight of
+land on those high seas of spelling reform in which so many strong
+swimmers have toiled vainly. To some the situation is exhilarating; as
+for me, I give one bubbling cry and sink. The compromise at which I have
+arrived is indefensible, and I have no thought of trying to defend it.
+As I have stuck for the most part to the proper spelling, I append a
+table of some common vowel sounds which no one need consult; and just to
+prove that I belong to my age and have in me the stuff of a reformer, I
+have used modification marks throughout. Thus I can tell myself, not
+without pride, that I have added a fresh stumbling-block for English
+readers, and to a page of print in my native tongue have lent a new
+uncouthness. _Sed non nobis._
+
+I note again, that among our new dialecticians, the local habitat of
+every dialect is given to the square mile. I could not emulate this
+nicety if I desired; for I simply wrote my Scots as well as I was able,
+not caring if it hailed from Lauderdale or Angus, from the Mearns or
+Galloway; if I had ever heard a good word, I used it without shame; and
+when Scots was lacking, or the rhyme jibbed, I was glad (like my
+betters) to fall back on English. For all that, I own to a friendly
+feeling for the tongue of Fergusson and of Sir Walter, both Edinburgh
+men; and I confess that Burns has always sounded in my ear like
+something partly foreign. And indeed I am from the Lothians myself; it
+is there I heard the language spoken about my childhood; and it is in
+the drawling Lothian voice that I repeat it to myself. Let the
+precisians call my speech that of the Lothians. And if it be not pure,
+alas! what matters it? The day draws near when this illustrious and
+malleable tongue shall be quite forgotten; and Burns's Ayrshire, and Dr.
+MacDonald's Aberdeen-awa', and Scott's brave, metropolitan utterance
+will be all equally the ghosts of speech. Till then I would love to have
+my hour as a native Maker, and be read by my own countryfolk in our own
+dying language; an ambition surely rather of the heart than of the head,
+so restricted as it is in prospect of endurance, so parochial in bounds
+of space.
+
+
+TABLE OF COMMON SCOTTISH VOWEL SOUNDS
+
+  ae }
+  ai } = open A _as in_ rare.
+
+  a' }
+  au } = AW _as in_ law.
+  aw }
+
+  ea = open E _as in_ mere, but this with exceptions, as heather =
+         heather, wean = wain, lear = lair.
+
+  ee }
+  ei } = open E _as in_ mere.
+  ie }
+
+  oa = open O _as in_ more.
+
+  ou = doubled O _as in_ poor.
+
+  ow = OW _as in_ bower.
+
+  u  = doubled O _as in_ poor.
+
+  ui _or_ � before R = (say roughly) open A _as in_ rare.
+
+  ui _or_ � before any other consonant = (say roughly) close I _as in_
+              grin.
+
+  y  = open I _as in_ kite.
+
+  i  = pretty nearly what you please, much as in English, Heaven guide the
+         reader through that labyrinth! But in Scots it dodges usually
+         from the short I, _as in_ grin, to the open E _as in_ mere. Find
+         and blind, I may remark, are pronounced to rhyme with the
+         preterite of grin.
+
+
+I
+
+THE MAKER TO POSTERITY
+
+  Far 'yont amang the years to be,
+  When a' we think, an' a' we see,
+  An' a' we luve, 's been dung ajee
+          By time's rouch shouther,
+  An' what was richt and wrang for me
+          Lies mangled throu'ther,
+
+  It's possible--it's hardly mair--
+  That some ane, ripin' after lear--
+  Some auld professor or young heir,
+          If still there's either--
+  May find an' read me, an' be sair
+          Perplexed, puir brither!
+
+  "_What tongue does your auld bookie speak?_"
+  He'll speir; an' I, his mou' to steik:
+  "_No' bein' fit to write in Greek,
+          I wrote in Lallan,
+  Dear to my heart as the peat-reek,
+          Auld as Tantallon._
+
+  "_Few spak it than, an' noo there's nane.
+  My puir auld sangs lie a' their lane,
+  Their sense, that aince was braw an' plain,
+          Tint a'thegither,
+  Like runes upon a standin' stane
+          Amang the heather._
+
+  "_But think not you the brae to speel;
+  You, tae, maun chow the bitter peel;
+  For a' your lear, for a' your skeel,
+          Ye're nane sae lucky;
+  An' things are mebbe waur than weel
+          For you, my buckie._
+
+  "_The hale concern (baith hens an' eggs,
+  Baith books an' writers, stars an' clegs)
+  Noo stachers upon lowsent legs
+          An' wears awa';
+  The tack o' mankind, near the dregs,
+          Rins unco law._
+
+  "_Your book, that in some braw new tongue
+  Ye wrote or prentit, preached or sung,
+  Will still be just a bairn, an' young
+          In fame an' years,
+  Whan the hale planet's guts are dung
+          About your ears;_
+
+  "_An' you, sair gruppin' to a spar
+  Or whammled wi' some bleezin' star,
+  Cryin' to ken whaur deil ye are,
+          Hame, France, or Flanders--
+  Whang sindry like a railway car
+          An' flie in danders._"
+
+
+II
+
+ILLE TERRARUM
+
+  Frae nirly, nippin', Eas'lan' breeze,
+  Frae Norlan' snaw, an' haar o' seas,
+  Weel happit in your gairden trees,
+          A bonny bit,
+  Atween the muckle Pentland's knees,
+          Secure ye sit.
+
+  Beeches an' aiks entwine their theek,
+  An' firs, a stench, auld-farrant clique.
+  A simmer day, your chimleys reek,
+          Couthy and bien;
+  An' here an' there your windies keek
+          Amang the green.
+
+  A pickle plats an' paths an' posies,
+  A wheen auld gillyflowers an' roses:
+  A ring o' wa's the hale encloses
+          Frae sheep or men:
+  An' there the auld housie beeks an' dozes,
+          A' by her lane.
+
+  The gairdner crooks his weary back
+  A' day in the pitaty-track,
+  Or mebbe stops a while to crack
+          Wi' Jane the cook,
+  Or at some buss, worm-eaten-black,
+          To gie a look.
+
+  Frae the high hills the curlew ca's;
+  The sheep gang baaing by the wa's;
+  Or whiles a clan o' roosty craws
+          Cangle thegither;
+  The wild bees seek the gairden raws,
+          Weariet wi' heather.
+
+  Or in the gloamin' douce an' grey
+  The sweet-throat mavis tunes her lay;
+  The herd comes linkin' doun the brae;
+          An' by degrees
+  The muckle siller m�ne maks way
+          Amang the trees.
+
+  Here aft hae I, wi' sober heart,
+  For meditation sat apairt,
+  When orra loves or kittle art
+          Perplexed my mind;
+  Here socht a balm for ilka smart
+          O' humankind.
+
+  Here aft, weel neukit by my lane,
+  Wi' Horace, or perhaps Montaigne,
+  The mornin' hours hae come an' gane
+          Ab�ne my heid--
+  I wadna gi'en a chucky-stane
+          For a' I'd read.
+
+  But noo the auld city, street by street,
+  An' winter fu' o' snaw an' sleet,
+  A while shut in my gangrel feet
+          An' goavin' mettle;
+  Noo is the soopit ingle sweet,
+          An' liltin' kettle.
+
+  An' noo the winter winds complain;
+  Cauld lies the glaur in ilka lane;
+  On draigled hizzie, tautit wean
+          An' drucken lads,
+  In the mirk nicht, the winter rain
+          Dribbles an' blads.
+
+  Whan bugles frae the Castle rock,
+  An' beaten drums wi' dowie shock,
+  Wauken, at cauld-rife sax o'clock,
+          My chitterin' frame,
+  I mind me on the kintry cock,
+          The kintry hame.
+
+  I mind me on yon bonny bield;
+  An' Fancy traivels far afield
+  To gaither a' that gairdens yield
+          O' sun an' Simmer:
+  To hearten up a dowie chield,
+          Fancy's the limmer!
+
+
+III
+
+  When aince Aprile has fairly come,
+  An' birds may bigg in winter's lum,
+  An' pleesure's spreid for a' and some
+          O' whatna state,
+  Love, wi' her auld recruitin' drum,
+          Than taks the gate.
+
+  The heart plays dunt wi' main an' micht;
+  The lasses' een are a' sae bricht,
+  Their dresses are sae braw an' ticht,
+          The bonny birdies!--
+  Puir winter virtue at the sicht
+          Gangs heels ower hurdies.
+
+  An' aye as love frae land to land
+  Tirls the drum wi' eident hand,
+  A' men collect at her command,
+          Toun-bred or land'art,
+  An' follow in a denty band
+          Her gaucy standart.
+
+  An' I, wha sang o' rain an' snaw,
+  An' weary winter weel awa',
+  Noo busk me in a jacket braw,
+          An' tak my place
+  I' the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw,
+          Wi' smilin' face.
+
+
+IV
+
+A MILE AN' A BITTOCK
+
+  A mile an' a bittock, a mile or twa,
+  Ab�ne the burn, ayont the law,
+  Davie an' Donal' an' Cherlie an' a',
+      An' the m�ne was shinin' clearly!
+
+  Ane went hame wi' the ither, an' then
+  The ither went hame wi' the ither twa men,
+  An' baith wad return him the service again,
+      An' the m�ne was shinin' clearly!
+
+  The clocks were chappin' in house an' ha',
+  Eleeven, twal an' ane an' twa;
+  An' the guidman's face was turnt to the wa'
+      An' the m�ne was shinin' clearly!
+
+  A wind got up frae affa the sea,
+  It blew the stars as clear's could be,
+  It blew in the een of a' o' the three,
+      An' the m�ne was shinin' clearly!
+
+  Noo, Davie was first to get sleep in his head,
+  "The best o' frien's maun twine," he said;
+  "I'm weariet, an' here I'm awa' to my bed."
+      An' the m�ne was shinin' clearly!
+
+  Twa o' them walkin' an' crackin' their lane,
+  The mornin' licht cam grey an' plain,
+  An' the birds they yammert on stick an' stane,
+      An' the m�ne was shinin' clearly!
+
+  O years ayont, O years awa',
+  My lads, ye'll mind whate'er befa'--
+  My lads, ye'll mind on the bield o' the law,
+      When the m�ne was shinin' clearly.
+
+
+V
+
+A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN
+
+  The clinkum-clank o' Sabbath bells
+  Noo to the hoastin' rookery swells,
+  Noo faintin' laigh in shady dells,
+        Sounds far an' near,
+  An' through the simmer kintry tells
+        Its tale o' cheer.
+
+  An' noo, to that melodious play,
+  A' deidly awn the quiet sway--
+  A' ken their solemn holiday,
+        Bestial an' human,
+  The singin' lintie on the brae,
+        The restin' plou'man.
+
+  He, mair than a' the lave o' men,
+  His week completit joys to ken;
+  Half-dressed, he daunders out an' in,
+        Perplext wi' leisure;
+  An' his raxt limbs he'll rax again
+        Wi' painf�' pleesure.
+
+  The steerin' mither strang afit
+  Noo shoos the bairnies but a bit;
+  Noo cries them ben, their Sinday sh�it
+        To scart upon them,
+  Or sweeties in their pooch to pit,
+        Wi' blessin's on them.
+
+  The lasses, clean frae tap to taes,
+  Are busked in crunklin' underclaes;
+  The gartened hose, the weel-fllled stays,
+        The nakit shift,
+  A' bleached on bonny greens for days,
+        An' white's the drift.
+
+  An' noo to face the kirkward mile:
+  The guidman's hat o' dacent style,
+  The blackit shoon we noo maun fyle
+        As white's the miller:
+  A waef�' peety tae, to spile
+        The warth o' siller.
+
+  Our Marg'et, aye sae keen to crack,
+  Douce-stappin' in the stoury track,
+  Her emeralt goun a' kiltit back
+        Frae snawy coats,
+  White-ankled, leads the kirkward pack
+        Wi' Dauvit Groats.
+
+  A thocht ahint, in runkled breeks,
+  A' spiled wi' lyin' by for weeks,
+  The guidman follows closs, an' cleiks
+        The sonsie missis;
+  His sarious face at aince bespeaks
+        The day that this is.
+
+  And aye an' while we nearer draw
+  To whaur the kirkton lies alaw,
+  Mair neebours, comin' saft an' slaw
+        Frae here an' there,
+  The thicker thrang the gate an' caw
+        The stour in air.
+
+  But hark! the bells frae nearer clang;
+  To rowst the slaw their sides they bang;
+  An' see! black coats a'ready thrang
+        The green kirkyaird;
+  And at the yett, the chestnuts spang
+        That brocht the laird.
+
+  The solemn elders at the plate
+  Stand drinkin' deep the pride o' state:
+  The practised hands as gash an' great
+        As Lords o' Session;
+  The later named, a wee thing blate
+        In their expression.
+
+  The prentit stanes that mark the deid,
+  Wi' lengthened lip, the sarious read;
+  Syne wag a moraleesin' heid,
+        An' then an' there
+  Their hirplin' practice an' their creed
+        Try hard to square.
+
+  It's here our Merren lang has lain,
+  A wee bewast the table-stane;
+  An' yon's the grave o' Sandy Blane;
+        An' further ower,
+  The mither's brithers, dacent men!
+        Lie a' the fower.
+
+  Here the guidman sall bide awee
+  To dwall amang the deid; to see
+  Auld faces clear in fancy's e'e;
+        Belike to hear
+  Auld voices fa'in' saft an' slee
+        On fancy's ear.
+
+  Thus, on the day o' solemn things,
+  The bell that in the steeple swings
+  To fauld a scaittered faim'ly rings
+        Its walcome screed;
+  An' just a wee thing nearer brings
+        The quick an' deid.
+
+  But noo the bell is ringin' in;
+  To tak their places, folk begin;
+  The minister himsel' will sh�ne
+        Be up the gate,
+  Filled fu' wi' clavers about sin
+        An' man's estate.
+
+  The t�nes are up--_French_, to be sh�re,
+  The faithf�' _French_, an' twa-three mair;
+  The auld prezentor, hoastin' sair,
+        Wales out the portions,
+  An' yirks the t�ne into the air
+        Wi' queer contortions.
+
+  Follows the prayer, the readin' next,
+  An' than the fisslin' for the text--
+  The twa-three last to find it, vext
+        But kind o' proud;
+  An' than the peppermints are raxed,
+        An' southernwood.
+
+  For noo's the time whan pows are seen
+  Nid-noddin' like a mandareen;
+  When tenty mithers stap a preen
+        In sleepin' weans;
+  An' nearly half the parochine
+        Forget their pains.
+
+  There's just a waukrif twa or three:
+  Thrawn commentautors sweer to 'gree,
+  Weans glowrin' at the bumlin' bee
+        On windie-glasses,
+  Or lads that tak a keek a-glee
+        At sonsie lasses.
+
+  Himsel', meanwhile, frae whaur he cocks
+  An' bobs belaw the soundin'-box,
+  The treasures of his words unlocks
+        Wi' prodigality,
+  An' deals some unco dingin' knocks
+        To infidality.
+
+  Wi' sappy unction, hoo he burkes
+  The hopes o' men that trust in works,
+  Expounds the fau'ts o' ither kirks,
+        An' shaws the best o' them
+  No' muckle better than mere Turks,
+        When a's confessed o' them.
+
+  Bethankit! what a bonny creed!
+  What mair would ony Christian need?--
+  The braw words rummle ower his heid,
+        Nor steer the sleeper;
+  An' in their restin' graves, the deid
+        Sleep aye the deeper.
+
+
+ NOTE.--It may be guessed by some that I had a certain parish in my
+eye, and this makes it proper I should add a word of disclamation. In my
+time there have been two ministers in that parish. Of the first I have a
+special reason to speak well, even had there been any to think ill. The
+second I have often met in private and long (in the due phrase) "sat
+under" in his church, and neither here nor there have I heard an unkind
+or ugly word upon his lips. The preacher of the text had thus no
+original in that particular parish; but when I was a boy, he might have
+been observed in many others; he was then (like the schoolmaster)
+abroad; and by recent advices, it would seem he has not yet entirely
+disappeared.--[R. L. S.]
+
+
+VI
+
+THE SPAEWIFE
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
+  An' siller, that's sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi'e.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Hoo a' things come to be whaur we find them when we try.
+  The lassies in their claes an' the fishes in the sea.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O' I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Why lads are a' to sell an' lasses a' to buy;
+  An' naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Gin death's as sh�re to men as killin' is to kye,
+  Why God has filled the yearth sae fu' o' tasty things to pree.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  The reason o' the cause an' the wherefore o' the why,
+  Wi' mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e'e.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+
+VII
+
+THE BLAST--1875
+
+  It's rainin'. Weet's the gairden sod,
+  Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod--
+  A maist unceevil thing o' God
+        In mid July--
+  If ye'll just curse the sneckdraw, dod!
+        An' sae wull I!
+
+  He's a braw place in Heev'n, ye ken,
+  An' lea's us puir, forjaskit men
+  Clamjamfried in the but and ben
+        He ca's the earth--
+  A wee bit inconvenient den
+        No muckle worth;
+
+  An' whiles, at orra times, keeks out,
+  Sees what puir mankind are about;
+  An' if He can, I've little doubt,
+        Upsets their plans;
+  He hates a' mankind, brainch and root,
+        An' a' that's man's.
+
+  An' whiles, whan they tak' heart again,
+  An' life i' the sun looks braw an' plain,
+  Doun comes a jaw o' droukin' rain
+        Upon their honours--
+  God sends a spate out ower the plain,
+        Or mebbe thun'ers.
+
+  Lord safe us, life's an unco thing!
+  Simmer and Winter, Yule an' Spring,
+  The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring
+        A feck o' trouble.
+  I wadna try 't to be a king--
+        No, nor for double.
+
+  But since we're in it, willy-nilly,
+  We maun be watchf�', wise an' skilly,
+  An' no' mind ony ither billy,
+        Lassie nor God.
+  But drink--that's my best counsel till 'e;
+        Sae tak' the nod.
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE COUNTERBLAST--1886
+
+  My bonny man, the warld, it's true,
+  Was made for neither me nor you;
+  It's just a place to warstle through,
+        As Job confessed o't;
+  And aye the best that we'll can do
+        Is mak' the best o't.
+
+  There's rowth o' wrang, I'm free to say:
+  The simmer brunt, the winter blae,
+  The face of earth a' fyled wi' clay
+        An' dour wi' chuckies,
+  An' life a rough an' land'art play
+        For country buckies.
+
+  An' food's anither name for clart;
+  An' beasts an' brambles bite an' scart;
+  An' what would WE be like, my heart!
+        If bared o' claethin'?
+  --Aweel, I canna mend your cart:
+        It's that or naethin'.
+
+  A feck o' folk frae first to last
+  Have through this queer experience passed;
+  Twa-three, I ken, just damn an' blast
+        The hale transaction;
+  But twa-three ithers, east an' wast,
+        Fand satisfaction.
+
+  Whaur braid the briery muirs expand,
+  A waef�' an' a weary land,
+  The bumble-bees, a gowden band,
+        Are blithely hingin';
+  An' there the canty wanderer fand
+        The laverock singin'.
+
+  Trout in the burn grow great as herr'n';
+  The simple sheep can find their fair'n';
+  The winds blaws clean about the cairn
+        Wi' caller air;
+  The muircock an' the barefit bairn
+        Are happy there.
+
+  Sic-like the howes o' life to some:
+  Green loans whaur they ne'er fash their thumb,
+  But mark the muckle winds that come,
+        Soopin' an' cool,
+  Or hear the powrin' burnie drum
+        In the shilfa's pool.
+
+  The evil wi' the guid they tak';
+  They ca' a grey thing grey, no' black;
+  To a steigh brae a stubborn back
+        Addressin' daily;
+  An' up the rude, unbieldy track
+        O' life, gang gaily.
+
+  What you would like's a palace ha',
+  Or Sinday parlour dink an' braw
+  Wi' a' things ordered in a raw
+        By denty leddies.
+  Weel, then, ye canna hae't: that's a'
+        That to be said is.
+
+  An' since at life ye've ta'en the grue,
+  An' winna blithely hirsle through,
+  Ye've fund the very thing to do--
+        That's to drink speerit;
+  An' sh�ne we'll hear the last o' you--
+        An' blithe to hear it!
+
+  The shoon ye coft, the life ye lead,
+  Ithers will heir when aince ye're deid;
+  They'll heir your tasteless bite o' breid,
+        An' find it sappy;
+  They'll to your dulef�' house succeed,
+        An' there be happy.
+
+  As whan a glum an' fractious wean
+  Has sat an' sullened by his lane
+  Till, wi' a rowstin' skelp, he's ta'en
+        An' shoo'd to bed----
+  The ither bairns a' fa' to play'n',
+        As gleg's a gled.
+
+
+IX
+
+THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL
+
+  It's strange that God should fash to frame
+      The yearth and lift sae hie,
+  An' clean forget to explain the same
+      To a gentleman like me.
+
+  Thae gusty, donnered ither folk,
+      Their weird they weel may dree;
+  But why present a pig in a poke
+      To a gentleman like me?
+
+  Thae ither folk their parritch eat
+      An' sup their sugared tea;
+  But the mind is no' to be wyled wi' meat
+      Wi' a gentleman like me.
+
+  Thae ither folk, they court their joes
+      At gloamin' on the lea;
+  But they're made of a commoner clay, I suppose,
+      Than a gentleman like me.
+
+  Thae ither folk, for richt or wrang,
+      They suffer, bleed, or dee;
+  But a' thir things are an emp'y sang
+      To a gentleman like me.
+
+  It's a different thing that I demand,
+      Tho' humble as can be--
+  A statement fair in my Maker's hand
+      To a gentleman like me:
+
+  A clear account writ fair an' broad,
+      An' a plain apologie;
+  Or the deevil a ceevil word to God
+      From a gentleman like me.
+
+
+X
+
+THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB
+
+  Dear Thamson class, whaure'er I gang
+  It aye comes ower me wi' a spang:
+  "_Lordsake! thae Thamson lads--(deil hang
+        Or else Lord mend them!)--
+  An' that wanchancy annual sang
+        I ne'er can send them!_"
+
+  Straucht, at the name, a trusty tyke,
+  My conscience girrs ahint the dyke;
+  Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke
+        To find a rhyme t' ye;
+  Pleased--although mebbe no' pleased-like--
+        To gie my time t' ye.
+
+  "_Weel_," an' says you, wi' heavin' breist,
+  "_Sae far, sae guid, but what's the neist?
+  Yearly we gather to the feast,
+        A' hopef�' men--
+  Yearly we skelloch 'Hang the beast--
+        Nae sang again!'_"
+
+  My lads, an' what am I to say?
+  Ye sh�rely ken the Muse's way:
+  Yestreen, as gleg's a tyke--the day,
+        Thrawn like a cuddy:
+  Her conduc', that to her's a play,
+        Deith to a body.
+
+  Aft whan I sat an' made my mane,
+  Aft whan I laboured burd-alane
+  Fishin' for rhymes an' findin' nane,
+        Or nane were fit for ye--
+  Ye judged me cauld's a chucky-stane--
+        No car'n' a bit for ye!
+
+  But saw ye ne'er some pingein' bairn
+  As weak as a pitaty-par'n'--
+  Less �sed wi' guidin' horse-shoe aim
+        Than steerin' crowdie--
+  Packed aff his lane, by moss an' cairn,
+        To ca' the howdie.
+
+  Wae's me, for the puir callant than!
+  He wambles like a poke o' bran,
+  An' the lowse rein, as hard's he can,
+        Pu's, trem'lin' handit;
+  Till, blaff! upon his hinderlan'
+        Behauld him landit.
+
+  Sic-like--I awn the weary fac'--
+  Whan on my muse the gate I tak',
+  An' see her gleed e'e raxin' back
+        To keek ahint her;--
+  To me, the brig o' Heev'n gangs black
+        As blackest winter.
+
+  "_Lordsake! we're aff_," thinks I, "_but whaur?
+  On what abhorred an' whinny scaur,
+  Or whammled in what sea o' glaur,
+        Will she desert me?
+  An' will she just disgrace? or waur--
+        Will she no' hurt me?_"
+
+  Kittle the qu�re! But at least
+  The day I've backed the fashious beast,
+  While she, wi' mony a spang an' reist,
+        Flang heels ower bonnet;
+  An' a' triumphant--for your feast,
+        Hae! there's your sonnet!
+
+
+XI
+
+EMBRO HIE KIRK
+
+  The Lord Himsel' in former days
+  Waled out the proper tunes for praise
+  An' named the proper kind o' claes
+        For folk to preach in:
+  Preceese and in the chief o' ways
+        Important teachin'.
+
+  He ordered a' things late and air';
+  He ordered folk to stand at prayer
+  (Although I canna just mind where
+        He gave the warnin'),
+  An' pit pomatum on their hair
+        On Sabbath mornin'.
+
+  The hale o' life by His commands
+  Was ordered to a body's hands;
+  But see! this _corpus juris_ stands
+        By a' forgotten;
+  An' God's religion in a' lands
+        Is deid an' rotten.
+
+  While thus the lave o' mankind's lost,
+  O' Scotland still God maks His boast--
+  Puir Scotland, on whase barren coast
+        A score or twa
+  Auld wives wi' mutches an' a hoast
+        Still keep His law.
+
+  In Scotland, a wheen canty, plain,
+  Douce, kintry-leevin' folk retain
+  The Truth--or did so aince--alane
+        Of a' men leevin';
+  An' noo just twa o' them remain--
+        Just Begg an' Niven.
+
+  For noo, unfaithf�' to the Lord,
+  Auld Scotland joins the rebel horde;
+  Her human hymn-books on the board
+        She noo displays:
+  An' Embro Hie Kirk's been restored
+        In popish ways.
+
+  O _punctum temporis_ for action
+  To a' o' the reformin' faction,
+  If yet, by ony act or paction,
+        Thocht, word, or sermon,
+  This dark an' damnable transaction
+        Micht yet determine!
+
+  For see--as Doctor Begg explains--
+  Hoo easy 't's d�ne! a pickle weans,
+  Wha in the Hie Street gaither stanes
+        By his instruction,
+  The uncovenantit, pentit panes
+        Ding to destruction.
+
+  Up, Niven, or ower late--an' dash
+  Laigh in the glaur that carnal hash;
+  Let spires and pews wi' gran' stramash
+        Thegither fa';
+  The rumlin' kist o' whustles smash
+        In pieces sma'.
+
+  Noo choose ye out a walie hammer;
+  About the knottit buttress clam'er;
+  Alang the steep roof stoyt an' stammer,
+        A gate mischancy;
+  On the aul' spire, the bells' hie cha'mer,
+        Dance your bit dancie.
+
+  Ding, devel, dunt, destroy, an' ruin,
+  Wi' carnal stanes the square bestrewn',
+  Till your loud chaps frae Kyle to Fruin,
+        Frae Hell to Heeven,
+  Tell the guid wark that baith are doin'--
+        Baith Begg an' Niven.
+
+
+XII
+
+THE SCOTSMAN'S RETURN FROM ABROAD
+
+IN A LETTER FROM MR. THOMSON TO MR. JOHNSTONE
+
+  In mony a foreign pairt I've been,
+  An' mony an unco ferlie seen,
+  Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I,
+  Last walkit upon Cocklerye.
+  Wi' gleg, observant een, I pass't
+  By sea an' land, through East an' Wast,
+  And still in ilka age an' station
+  Saw naething but abomination.
+  In thir uncovenantit lands
+  The gangrel Scot uplifts his hands
+  At lack of a' sectarian f�sh'n,
+  An' cauld religious destit�tion.
+  He rins, puir man, frae place to place,
+  Tries a' their graceless means o' grace,
+  Preacher on preacher, kirk on kirk--
+  This yin a stot an' thon a stirk--
+  A bletherin' clan, no warth a preen.
+  As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen!
+
+  At last, across the weary faem,
+  Frae far, outlandish pairts I came.
+  On ilka side o' me I fand
+  Fresh tokens o' my native land.
+  Wi' whatna joy I hailed them a'--
+  The hill-taps standin' raw by raw,
+  The public-house, the Hielan' birks,
+  And a' the bonny U.P. kirks!
+  But maistly thee, the bluid o' Scots,
+  Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Groats!
+  The king o' drinks, as I conceive it,
+  Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!
+
+  For after years wi' a pockmantie
+  Frae Zanzibar to Alicante,
+  In mony a fash and sair affliction
+  I gie't as my sincere conviction--
+  Of a' their foreign tricks an' pliskies,
+  I maist abominate their whiskies.
+  Nae doot, themsel's, they ken it weel,
+  An' wi' a hash o' leemon peel,
+  And ice an' siccan filth, they ettle
+  The stawsome kind o' goo to settle
+  Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi'
+  As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi'.
+
+  An', man, I was a blithe hame-comer
+  Whan first I syndit out my rummer.
+  Ye should hae seen me then, wi' care
+  The less important pairts prepare;
+  Syne, weel contentit wi' it a',
+  Pour in the speerits wi' a jaw!
+  I didna drink, I didna speak,--
+  I only snowkit up the reek.
+  I was sae pleased therein to paidle,
+  I sat an' plowtered wi' my ladle.
+
+  An' blithe was I, the morrow's morn,
+  To daunder through the stookit corn,
+  And after a' my strange mishanters
+  Sit doun amang my ain dissenters
+  An', man, it was a joy to me
+  The pu'pit an' the pews to see,
+  The pennies dirlin' in the plate,
+  The elders lookin' on in state;
+  An' 'mang the first, as it befell,
+  Wha should I see, sir, but yoursel'!
+
+  I was, and I will no' deny it,
+  At the first gliff a hantle tryit
+  To see yoursel' in sic a station--
+  It seemed a doubtf�' dispensation.
+  The feelin' was a mere digression;
+  For sh�ne I understood the session,
+  An' mindin' Aiken an' M'Neil,
+  I wondered they had d�ne sae weel.
+  I saw I had mysel' to blame;
+  For had I but remained at hame,
+  Aiblins--though no ava' deservin' 't--
+  They micht hae named your humble servant.
+
+  The kirk was filled, the door was steiked;
+  Up to the pu'pit aince I keeked;
+  I was mair pleased than I can tell--
+  It was the minister himsel'!
+  Proud, proud was I to see his face,
+  After sae lang awa' frae grace.
+  Pleased as I was, I'm no' denyin'
+  Some maitters were not edifyin';
+  For first I fand--an' here was news!--
+  Mere hymn-books cockin' in the pews--
+  A humanised abomination,
+  Unfit for ony congregation.
+  Syne, while I still was on the tenter,
+  I scunnered at the new prezentor;
+  I thocht him gesterin' an' cauld--
+  A sair declension frae the auld.
+  Syne, as though a' the faith was wreckit,
+  The prayer was not what I'd exspeckit.
+  Himsel', as it appeared to me,
+  Was no' the man he �sed to be.
+  But just as I was growin' vext
+  He waled a maist judeecious text,
+  An', launchin' into his prelections,
+  Swoopt, wi' a skirl, on a' defections.
+
+  O what a gale was on my speerit
+  To hear the p'ints o' doctrine clearit,
+  And a' the horrors o' damnation
+  Set furth wi' faithf�' ministration!
+  Nae shauchlin' testimony here--
+  We were a' damned, an' that was clear.
+  I owned, wi' gratitude an' wonder,
+  He was a pleesure to sit under.
+
+
+XIII
+
+  Late in the nicht in bed I lay,
+  The winds were at their weary play,
+  An' tirlin' wa's an' skirlin' wae
+        Through Heev'n they battered;--
+  On-ding o' hail, on-blaff o' spray,
+        The tempest blattered.
+
+  The masoned house it dinled through;
+  It dung the ship, it cowped the coo;
+  The rankit aiks it overthrew,
+        Had braved a' weathers;
+  The strang sea-gleds it took an' blew
+        Awa' like feethers.
+
+  The thrawes o' fear on a' were shed,
+  An' the hair rose, an' slumber fled,
+  An' lichts were lit an' prayers were said
+        Through a' the kintry;
+  An' the cauld terror clum in bed
+        Wi' a' an' sindry.
+
+  To hear in the pit-mirk on hie
+  The brangled collieshangie flie,
+  The warl', they thocht, wi' land an' sea,
+        Itsel' wad cowpit;
+  An' for auld airn, the smashed d�bris
+        By God be rowpit.
+
+  Meanwhile frae far Aldeboran
+  To folks wi' talescopes in han',
+  O' ships that cowpit, winds that ran,
+        Nae sign was seen,
+  But the wee warl' in sunshine span
+        As bricht's a preen.
+
+  I, tae, by God's especial grace,
+  Dwall denty in a bieldy place,
+  Wi' hosened feet, wi' shaven face,
+        Wi' dacent mainners:
+  A grand example to the race
+        O' tautit sinners!
+
+  The wind may blaw, the heathen rage,
+  The deil may start on the rampage;--
+  The sick in bed, the thief in cage--
+        What's a' to me?
+  Cosh in my house, a sober sage,
+        I sit an' see.
+
+  An' whiles the bluid spangs to my bree,
+  To lie sae saft, to live sae free,
+  While better men maun do an' die
+         In unco places.
+  "_Whaur's God?_" I cry, an' "_Whae is me
+        To hae sic graces?_"
+
+  I mind the fecht the sailors keep,
+  But fire or can'le, rest or sleep,
+  In darkness an' the muckle deep;
+        An' mind beside
+  The herd that on the hills o' sheep
+        Has wandered wide.
+
+  I mind me on the hoastin' weans--
+  The penny joes on causey-stanes--
+  The auld folk wi' the crazy banes,
+        Baith auld an' puir,
+  That aye maun thole the winds an' rains
+        An' labour sair.
+
+  An' whiles I'm kind o' pleased a blink,
+  An' kind o' fleyed forby, to think,
+  For a' my rowth o' meat an' drink
+        An' waste o' crumb,
+  I'll mebbe have to thole wi' skink
+        In Kingdom Come.
+
+  For God whan jowes the Judgment bell
+  Wi' His ain Hand, His Leevin' Sel',
+  Sall ryve the guid (as Prophets tell)
+        Frae them that had it;
+  And in the reamin' pat o' Hell,
+        The rich be scaddit.
+
+  O Lord, if this indeed be sae,
+  Let daw' that sair an' happy day!
+  Again the warl', grawn auld an' grey,
+        Up wi' your aixe!
+  An' let the puir enjoy their play--
+        I'll thole my paiks.
+
+
+XIV
+
+MY CONSCIENCE!
+
+  Of a' the ills that flesh can fear,
+  The loss o' frien's, the lack o' gear,
+  A yowlin' tyke, a glandered mear,
+        A lassie's nonsense--
+  There's just ae thing I canna bear,
+        An' that's my conscience.
+
+  Whan day (an' a' exc�se) has gane,
+  An' wark is d�ne, and duty's plain,
+  An' to my chalmer a' my lane
+        I creep apairt,
+  My conscience! hoo the yammerin' pain
+        Stends to my heart!
+
+  A' day wi' various ends in view,
+  The hairsts o' time I had to pu',
+  An' made a hash wad staw a soo,
+        Let be a man!--
+  My conscience! whan my han's were fu',
+        Whaur were ye than?
+
+  An' there were a' the lures o' life,
+  There pleesure skirlin' on the fife,
+  There anger, wi' the hotchin' knife
+        Ground shairp in Hell--
+  My conscience!--you that's like a wife!--
+        Whaur was yoursel'?
+
+  I ken it fine: just waitin' here,
+  To gar the evil waur appear,
+  To clart the guid, conf�se the clear,
+        Misca' the great,
+  My conscience! an' to raise a steer
+        Whan a's ower late.
+
+  Sic-like, some tyke grawn auld and blind,
+  Whan thieves brok' through the gear to p'ind,
+  Has lain his dozened length an' grinned
+        At the disaster;
+  An' the morn's mornin', wud's the wind,
+        Yokes on his master.
+
+
+XV
+
+TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN
+
+     _Whan the dear doctor, dear to a',
+     Was still among us here belaw,
+     I set my pipes his praise to blaw
+             Wi' a' my speerit;
+     But noo, dear doctor! he's awa'
+           An' ne'er can hear it._
+
+  By Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees,
+  By a' the various river Dee's,
+  In Mars and Manors 'yont the seas
+        Or here at hame,
+  Whaure'er there's kindly folk to please,
+        They ken your name.
+
+  They ken your name, they ken your tyke,
+  They ken the honey from your byke;
+  But mebbe after a' your fyke,
+        (The tr�th to tell)
+  It's just your honest Rab they like,
+        An' no' yoursel'.
+
+  As at the gowff, some canny play'r
+  Should tee a common ba' wi' care--
+  Should flourish and deleever fair
+        His souple shintie--
+  An' the ba' rise into the air,
+        A leevin' lintie:
+
+  Sae in the game we writers play,
+  There comes to some a bonny day,
+  When a dear ferlie shall repay
+        Their years o' strife,
+  An' like your Rab, their things o' clay
+        Spreid wings o' life.
+
+  Ye scarce deserved it, I'm afraid--
+  You that had never learned the trade,
+  But just some idle mornin' strayed
+        Into the sch�le,
+  An' picked the fiddle up an' played
+        Like Neil himsel'.
+
+  Your e'e was gleg, your fingers dink;
+  Ye didna fash yoursel' to think,
+  But wove, as fast as puss can link,
+        Your denty wab:--
+  Ye stapped your pen into the ink,
+        An' there was Rab!
+
+  Sinsyne, whaure'er your fortune lay
+  By dowie den, by canty brae,
+  Simmer an' winter, nicht an' day,
+        Rab was aye wi' ye;
+  An' a' the folk on a' the way
+        Were blithe to see ye.
+
+  O sir, the gods are kind indeed,
+  An' hauld ye for an honoured heid,
+  That for a wee bit clarkit screed
+        Sae weel reward ye,
+  An' lend--puir Rabbie bein' deid--
+        His ghaist to guard ye.
+
+  For though, whaure'er yoursel' may be,
+  We've just to turn an' glisk a wee,
+  An' Rab at heel we're sh�re to see
+        Wi' gladsome caper:--
+  The bogle of a bogle, he--
+        A ghaist o' paper!
+
+  And as the auld-farrant hero sees
+  In Hell a bogle Hercules,
+  Pit there the lesser deid to please,
+        While he himsel'
+  Dwalls wi' the muckle gods at ease
+        Far raised frae Hell:
+
+  Sae the true Rabbie far has gane
+  On kindlier business o' his ain
+  Wi' aulder frien's; an' his breist-bane
+        An' stumpie tailie,
+  He birstles at a new hearth-stane
+        By James and Ailie.
+
+
+XVI
+
+  It's an owercome sooth for age an' youth,
+    And it brooks wi' nae denial,
+  That the dearest friends are the auldest friends,
+    And the young are just on trial.
+
+  There's a rival bauld wi' young an' auld,
+    And it's him that has bereft me;
+  For the s�rest friends are the auldest friends,
+    And the maist o' mine's hae left me.
+
+  There are kind hearts still, for friends to fill
+    And fools to take and break them;
+  But the nearest friends are the auldest friends,
+    And the grave's the place to seek them.
+
+
+
+
+BALLADS
+
+
+THE SONG OF RAH�RO
+
+A LEGEND OF TAHITI
+
+  _TO
+  ORI A ORI_
+
+  _Ori, my brother in the island mode,
+  In every tongue and meaning much my friend,
+  This story of your country and your clan,
+  In your loved house, your too much honoured guest,
+  I made in English. Take it, being done;
+  And let me sign it with the name you gave._
+
+    _TERIITERA._
+
+
+
+
+BALLADS
+
+THE SONG OF RAH�RO
+
+
+I
+
+THE SLAYING OF T�MAT�A
+
+  It fell in the days of old, as the men of Tai�rapu tell,
+  A youth went forth to the fishing, and fortune favoured him well.
+  T�mat�a his name: gullible, simple, and kind.
+  Comely of countenance, nimble of body, empty of mind,
+  His mother ruled him and loved him beyond the wont of a wife,
+  Serving the lad for eyes and living herself in his life.
+  Alone from the sea and the fishing came T�mat�a the fair,
+  Urging his boat to the beach, and the mother awaited him there.
+  --"Long may you live!" said she. "Your fishing has sped to a wish.
+  And now let us choose for the king the fairest of all your fish.
+  For fear inhabits the palace and grudging grows in the land,
+  Marked is the sluggardly foot and marked the niggardly hand,
+  The hours and the miles are counted, the tributes numbered and weighed,
+  And woe to him that comes short, and woe to him that delayed!"
+  So spoke on the beach the mother, and counselled the wiser thing.
+  For Rah�ro stirred in the country and secretly mined the king.
+  Nor were the signals wanting of how the leaven wrought,
+  In the cords of obedience loosed and the tributes grudgingly brought.
+  And when last to the temple of Oro the boat with the victim sped,
+  And the priest uncovered the basket and looked on the face of the dead,
+  Trembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous thing,
+  For there was the aito[1] dead, and he of the house of the king.
+
+  So spake on the beach the mother, matter worthy of note,
+  And wattled a basket well, and chose a fish from the boat;
+  And T�mat�a the pliable shouldered the basket and went,
+  And travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad that was well content.
+  Still the way of his going was round by the roaring coast,
+  Where the ring of the reef is broke and the trades run riot the most.
+  On his left, with smoke as of battle, the billows battered the land;
+  Unscalable, turreted mountains rose on the inner hand.
+  And cape, and village, and river, and vale, and mountain above,
+  Each had a name in the land for men to remember and love;
+  And never the name of a place, but lo! a song in its praise:
+  Ancient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier days
+  That the elders taught to the young, and at night, in the full of the
+      moon,
+  Garlanded boys and maidens sang together in tune.
+  T�mat�a the placable went with a lingering foot;
+  He sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse as a flute;
+  He broiled in the sun, he breathed in the grateful shadow of trees,
+  In the icy stream of the rivers he waded over the knees;
+  And still in his empty mind crowded, a thousand-fold,
+  The deeds of the strong and the songs of the cunning heroes of old.
+
+  And now was he come to a place Tai�rapu honoured the most,
+  Where a silent valley of woods debouched on the noisy coast,
+  Spewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai.[2]
+  There, in his potent youth, when his parents drove him to die,
+  Honoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp and the fire,
+  Washed by the rains of the trade and clotting his hair in the mire;
+  And there, so mighty his hands, he bent the tree to his foot--
+  So keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it naked of fruit.
+  There, as she pondered the clouds for the shadow of coming ills,
+  Ahupu, the woman of song, walked on high on the hills.
+
+  Of these was Rah�ro sprung, a man of a godly race;
+  And inherited cunning of spirit, and beauty of body and face.
+  Of yore in his youth, as an aito, Rah�ro wandered the land,
+  Delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men with his hand.
+  Famous he was in his youth; but before the midst of his life
+  Paused, and fashioned a song of farewell to glory and strife.
+
+  _House of mine_ (it went), _house upon the sea,
+  Belov'd of all my fathers, more belov'd by me!
+  Vale of the strong Honoura, deep ravine of Pai,
+  Again in your woody summits I hear the trade-wind cry_.
+
+  _House of mine, in your walls, strong sounds the sea,
+  Of all sounds on earth, dearest sound to me.
+  I have heard the applause of men, I have heard it arise and die:
+  Sweeter now in my house I hear the trade-wind cry._
+
+  These were the words of his singing, other the thought of his heart;
+  For secret desire of glory vexed him, dwelling apart.
+  Lazy and crafty he was, and loved to lie in the sun,
+  And loved the cackle of talk and the true word uttered in fun;
+  Lazy he was, his roof was ragged, his table was lean,
+  And the fish swam safe in his sea, and he gathered the near and the
+      green.
+  He sat in his house and laughed, but he loathed the king of the land,
+  And he uttered the grudging word under the covering hand.
+  Treason spread from his door; and he looked for a day to come,
+  A day of the crowding people, a day of the summoning drum,
+  When the vote should be taken, the king be driven forth in disgrace,
+  And Rah�ro, the laughing and lazy, sit and rule in his place.
+
+  Here T�mat�a came, and beheld the house on the brook;
+  And Rah�ro was there by the way and covered an oven to cook.[3]
+  Naked he was to the loins, but the tattoo covered the lack,
+  And the sun and the shadow of palms dappled his muscular back.
+  Swiftly he lifted his head at the fall of the coming feet,
+  And the water sprang in his mouth with a sudden desire of meat:
+  For he marked the basket carried, covered from flies and the sun;[4]
+  And Rah�ro buried his fire, but the meat in his house was done.
+
+  Forth he stepped; and took, and delayed the boy, by the hand;
+  And vaunted the joys of meat and the ancient ways of the land:
+  --"Our sires of old in Tai�rapu, they that created the race,
+  Ate ever with eager hand, nor regarded season or place,
+  Ate in the boat at the oar, on the way afoot; and at night
+  Arose in the midst of dreams to rummage the house for a bite.
+  It is good for the youth in his turn to follow the way of the sire;
+  And behold how fitting the time! for here do I cover my fire."
+  --"I see the fire for the cooking, but never the meat to cook,"
+  Said T�mat�a.--"Tut!" said Rah�ro. "Here in the brook,
+  And there in the tumbling sea, the fishes are thick as flies,
+  Hungry like healthy men, and like pigs for savour and size:
+  Crayfish crowding the river, sea-fish thronging the sea."
+  --"Well, it may be," says the other, "and yet be nothing to me.
+  Fain would I eat, but alas! I have needful matter in hand,
+  Since I carry my tribute of fish to the jealous king of the land."
+
+  Now at the word a light sprang in Rah�ro's eyes.
+  "I will gain me a dinner," thought he, "and lend the king a surprise."
+  And he took the lad by the arm, as they stood by the side of the track,
+  And smiled, and rallied, and flattered, and pushed him forward and back.
+  It was "You that sing like a bird, I never have heard you sing,"
+  And "The lads when I was a lad were none so feared of a king.
+  And of what account is an hour, when the heart is empty of guile?
+  But come, and sit in the house and laugh with the women awhile;
+  And I will but drop my hook, and behold! the dinner made."
+
+  So T�mat�a the pliable hung up his fish in the shade
+  On a tree by the side of the way; and Rah�ro carried him in,
+  Smiling as smiles the fowler when flutters the bird to the gin,
+  And chose him a shining hook,[5] and viewed it with sedulous eye,
+  And breathed and burnished it well on the brawn of his naked thigh,
+  And set a mat for the gull, and bade him be merry and bide,
+  Like a man concerned for his guest, and the fishing, and nothing beside.
+
+  Now when Rah�ro was forth, he paused and hearkened, and heard
+  The gull jest in the house and the women laugh at his word;
+  And stealthily crossed to the side of the way, to the shady place
+  Where the basket hung on a mango; and craft transfigured his face.
+  Deftly he opened the basket, and took of the fat of the fish,
+  The cut of kings and chieftains, enough for a goodly dish.
+  This he wrapped in a leaf, set on the fire to cook,
+  And buried; and next the marred remains of the tribute he took,
+  And doubled and packed them well, and covered the basket close.
+  --"There is a buffet, my king," quoth he, "and a nauseous dose!"--
+  And hung the basket again in the shade, in a cloud of flies;
+  --"And there is a sauce to your dinner, king of the crafty eyes!"
+
+  Soon as the oven was open, the fish smelt excellent good.
+  In the shade, by the house of Rah�ro, down they sat to their food,
+  And cleared the leaves,[6] in silence, or uttered a jest and laughed
+  And raising the cocoa-nut bowls, buried their faces and quaffed.
+  But chiefly in silence they ate; and soon as the meal was done,
+  Rah�ro feigned to remember and measured the hour by the sun
+  And "T�mat�a," quoth he, "it is time to be jogging, my lad."
+
+  So T�mat�a arose, doing ever the thing he was bade,
+  And carelessly shouldered the basket, and kindly saluted his host;
+  And again the way of his going was round by the roaring coast.
+  Long he went; and at length was aware of a pleasant green,
+  And the stems and shadows of palms, and roofs of lodges between.
+  There sate, in the door of his palace, the king on a kingly seat,
+  And aitos stood armed around, and the yottowas[7] sat at his feet.
+  But fear was a worm in his heart: fear darted his eyes;
+  And he probed men's faces for treasons and pondered their speech for
+      lies.
+  To him came T�mat�a, the basket slung in his hand,
+  And paid him the due obeisance standing as vassals stand.
+  In silence hearkened the king, and closed the eyes in his face,
+  Harbouring odious thoughts and the baseless fears of the base;
+  In silence accepted the gift and sent the giver away.
+  So T�mat�a departed, turning his back on the day.
+
+  And lo! as the king sat brooding, a rumour rose in the crowd;
+  The yottowas nudged and whispered, the commons murmured aloud;
+  Tittering fell upon all at sight of the impudent thing,
+  At the sight of a gift unroyal flung in the face of a king.
+  And the face of the king turned white and red with anger and shame
+  In their midst; and the heart in his body was water and then was flame;
+  Till of a sudden, turning, he gripped an aito hard,
+  A youth that stood with his �mare,[8] one of the daily guard,
+  And spat in his ear a command, and pointed and uttered a name,
+  And hid in the shade of the house his impotent anger and shame.
+
+  Now T�mat�a the fool was far on his homeward way,
+  The rising night in his face, behind him the dying day.
+  Rah�ro saw him go by, and the heart of Rah�ro was glad,
+  Devising shame to the king and nowise harm to the lad;
+  And all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted him well,
+  For he had the face of a friend and the news of the town to tell;
+  And pleased with the notice of folk, and pleased that his journey was
+      done,
+  T�mat�a drew homeward, turning his back to the sun.
+
+  And now was the hour of the bath in Tai�rapu: far and near
+  The lovely laughter of bathers rose and delighted his ear.
+  Night massed in the valleys; the sun on the mountain coast
+  Struck, end-long; and above the clouds embattled their host,
+  And glowed and gloomed on the heights; and the heads of the palms were
+      gems,
+  And far to the rising eve extended the shade of their stems;
+  And the shadow of T�mat�a hovered already at home.
+
+  And sudden the sound of one coming and running light as the foam
+  Struck on his ear; and he turned, and lo! a man on his track,
+  Girded and armed with an �mare, following hard at his back.
+  At a bound the man was upon him;--and, or ever a word was said,
+  The loaded end of the �mare fell and laid him dead.
+
+
+II
+
+THE VENGING OF T�MAT�A
+
+  Thus was Rah�ro's treason; thus and no further it sped.
+  The king sat safe in his place and a kindly fool was dead.
+
+  But the mother of T�mat�a arose with death in her eyes.
+  All night long, and the next, Tai�rapu rang with her cries.
+  As when a babe in the wood turns with a chill of doubt
+  And perceives nor home, nor friends, for the trees have closed her
+      about,
+  The mountain rings and her breast is torn with the voice of despair:
+  So the lion-like woman idly wearied the air
+  For a while, and pierced men's hearing in vain, and wounded their
+      hearts.
+  But as when the weather changes at sea, in dangerous parts,
+  And sudden the hurricane wrack unrolls up the front of the sky,
+  At once the ship lies idle, the sails hang silent on high,
+  The breath of the wind that blew is blown out like the flame of a lamp,
+  And the silent armies of death draw near with inaudible tramp:
+  So sudden, the voice of her weeping ceased; in silence she rose
+  And passed from the house of her sorrow, a woman clothed with repose,
+  Carrying death in her breast and sharpening death in her hand.
+
+  Hither she went and thither in all the coasts of the land.
+  They tell that she feared not to slumber alone, in the dead of night,
+  In accursed places; beheld, unblenched, the ribbon of light[9]
+  Spin from temple to temple; guided the perilous skiff,
+  Abhorred not the paths of the mountain and trod the verge of the cliff;
+  From end to end of the island, thought not the distance long,
+  But forth from king to king carried the tale of her wrong.
+  To king after king, as they sat in the palace door, she came,
+  Claiming kinship, declaiming verses, naming her name
+  And the names of all of her fathers; and still, with a heart on the
+      rack,
+  Jested to capture a hearing and laughed when they jested back;
+  So would deceive them a while, and change and return in a breath,
+  And on all the men of Vaiau imprecate instant death;
+  And tempt her kings--for Vaiau was a rich and prosperous land,
+  And flatter--for who would attempt it but warriors mighty of hand?
+  And change in a breath again and rise in a strain of song,
+  Invoking the beaten drums, beholding the fall of the strong,
+  Calling the fowls of the air to come and feast on the dead.
+  And they held the chin in silence, and heard her, and shook the head;
+  For they knew the men of Tai�rapu famous in battle and feast,
+  Marvellous eaters and smiters: the men of Vaiau not least.
+  To the land of the N�munu-�ra, to Paea,[10] at length she came,
+  To men who were foes to the Tevas and hated their race and name.
+  There was she well received, and spoke with Hiopa the king.[11]
+  And Hiopa listened, and weighed, and wisely considered the thing.
+  "Here in the back of the isle we dwell in a sheltered place,"
+  Quoth he to the woman, "in quiet, a weak and peaceable race.
+  But far in the teeth of the wind lofty Tai�rapu lies;
+  Strong blows the wind of the trade on its seaward face, and cries
+  Aloud in the top of arduous mountains, and utters its song
+  In green continuous forests. Strong is the wind, and strong
+  And fruitful and hardy the race, famous in battle and feast,
+  Marvellous eaters and smiters: the men of Vaiau not least.
+  Now hearken to me, my daughter, and hear a word of the wise:
+  How a strength goes linked with a weakness, two by two, like the eyes.
+  They can wield the �mare well and cast the javelin far;
+  Yet are they greedy and weak as the swine and the children are.
+  Plant we, then, here at Paea a garden of excellent fruits;
+  Plant we bananas and kava and taro, the king of roots;
+  Let the pigs in Paea be tapu[12] and no man fish for a year;
+  And of all the meat in Tahiti gather we threefold here.
+  So shall the fame of our plenty fill the island and so,
+  At last, on the tongue of rumour, go where we wish it to go.
+  Then shall the pigs of Tai�rapu raise their snouts in the air;
+  But we sit quiet and wait, as the fowler sits by the snare,
+  And tranquilly fold our hands, till the pigs come nosing the food:
+  But meanwhile build us a house of Trot�a, the stubborn wood,
+  Bind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof to the room,
+  Too strong for the hands of a man to dissever or fire to consume;
+  And there, when the pigs come trotting, there shall the feast be spread,
+  There shall the eye of the morn enlighten the feasters dead.
+  So be it done; for I have a heart that pities your state,
+  And Nateva and N�munu-�ra are fire and water for hate."
+
+  All was done as he said, and the gardens prospered; and now
+  The fame of their plenty went out, and word of it came to Vaiau.
+  For the men of N�munu-�ra sailed, to the windward far,
+  Lay in the offing by south where the towns of the Tevas are,
+  And cast overboard of their plenty; and lo! at the Tevas' feet
+  The surf on all the beaches tumbled treasures of meat.
+  In the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with the refluent foam;
+  And the children gleaned it in playing, and ate and carried it home;
+  And the elders stared and debated, and wondered and passed the jest,
+  But whenever a guest came by eagerly questioned the guest;
+  And little by little, from one to another, the word went round:
+  "In all the borders of Paea the victual rots on the ground,
+  And swine are plenty as rats. And now, when they fare to the sea,
+  The men of the N�munu-�ra glean from under the tree
+  And load the canoe to the gunwale with all that is toothsome to eat;
+  And all day long on the sea the jaws are crushing the meat,
+  The steersman eats at the helm, the rowers munch at the oar,
+  And at length, when their bellies are full, overboard with the store!"
+  Now was the word made true, and soon as the bait was bare,
+  All the pigs of Tai�rapu raised their snouts in the air.
+  Songs were recited, and kinship was counted, and tales were told
+  How war had severed of late but peace had cemented of old
+  The clans of the island. "To war," said they, "now set we an end,
+  And hie to the N�munu-�ra even as a friend to a friend."
+
+  So judged, and a day was named; and soon as the morning broke,
+  Canoes were thrust in the sea, and the houses emptied of folk.
+  Strong blew the wind of the south, the wind that gathers the clan;
+  Along all the line of the reef the clamorous surges ran;
+  And the clouds were piled on the top of the island mountain-high,
+  A mountain throned on a mountain. The fleet of canoes swept by
+  In the midst, on the green lagoon, with a crew released from care,
+  Sailing an even water, breathing a summer air,
+  Cheered by a cloudless sun; and ever to left and right,
+  Bursting surge on the reef, drenching storms on the height.
+  So the folk of Vaiau sailed and were glad all day,
+  Coasting the palm-tree cape and crossing the populous bay
+  By all the towns of the Tevas; and still as they bowled along,
+  Boat would answer to boat with jest and laughter and song,
+  And the people of all the towns trooped to the sides of the sea,
+  And gazed from under the hand or sprang aloft on the tree
+  Hailing and cheering. Time failed them for more to do;
+  The holiday village careened to the wind, and was gone from view
+  Swift as a passing bird; and ever as onward it bore,
+  Like the cry of the passing bird, bequeathed its song to the shore--
+  Desirable laughter of maids and the cry of delight of the child.
+  And the gazer, left behind, stared at the wake and smiled.
+  By all the towns of the Tevas they went, and P�para last,
+  The home of the chief, the place of muster in war; and passed
+  The march of the lands of the clan, to the lands of an alien folk.
+  And there, from the dusk of the shoreside palms, a column of smoke
+  Mounted and wavered and died in the gold of the setting sun,
+  "Paea!" they cried. "It is Paea." And so was the voyage done.
+
+  In the early fall of the night Hiopa came to the shore,
+  And beheld and counted the comers, and lo, they were forty score;
+  The pelting feet of the babes that ran already and played,
+  The clean-lipped smile of the boy, the slender breasts of the maid,
+  And mighty limbs of women, stalwart mothers of men.
+  The sires stood forth unabashed; but a little back from
+  his ken
+  Clustered the scarcely nubile, the lads and maids, in a ring,
+  Fain of each other, afraid of themselves, aware of the king
+  And aping behaviour, but clinging together with hands and eyes,
+  With looks that were kind like kisses, and laughter tender as sighs.
+  There, too, the grandsire stood, raising his silver crest,
+  And the impotent hands of a suckling groped in his barren breast.
+  The childhood of love, the pair well married, the innocent brood,
+  The tale of the generations repeated and ever renewed--
+  Hiopa beheld them together, all the ages of man,
+  And a moment shook in his purpose.
+
+              But these were the foes of his clan,
+  And he trod upon pity, and came, and civilly greeted the king,
+  And gravely entreated Rah�ro; and for all that could fight or sing,
+  And claimed a name in the land, had fitting phrases of praise:
+  But with all who were well-descended he spoke of the ancient days.
+  And "'Tis true," said he, "that in Paea the victual rots on the ground;
+  But, friends, your number is many; and pigs must be hunted and found,
+  And the lads must troop to the mountains to bring the f�is down,
+  And around the bowls of the kava cluster the maids of the town.
+  So, for to-night, sleep here; but king, common, and priest
+  To-morrow, in order due, shall sit with me in the feast."
+  Sleepless the live-long night, Hiopa's followers toiled.
+  The pigs screamed and were slaughtered; the spars of the guest-house
+      oiled,
+  The leaves spread on the floor. In many a mountain glen
+  The moon drew shadows of trees on the naked bodies of men
+  Plucking and bearing fruits; and in all the bounds of the town
+  Red glowed the cocoa-nut fires, and were buried and trodden down.
+  Thus did seven of the yottowas toil with their tale of the clan,
+  But the eighth wrought with his lads, hid from the sight of man.
+  In the deeps of the woods they laboured, piling the fuel high
+  In fagots, the load of a man, fuel seasoned and dry,
+  Thirsty to seize upon fire and apt to blurt into flame.
+
+  And now was the day of the feast. The forests, as morning came,
+  Tossed in the wind, and the peaks quaked in the blaze of the day--
+  And the cocoa-nuts showered on the ground, rebounding and rolling away:
+  A glorious morn for a feast, a famous wind for a fire.
+  To the hall of feasting Hiopa led them, mother and sire
+  And maid and babe in a tale, the whole of the holiday throng.
+  Smiling they came, garlanded green, not dreaming of wrong;
+  And for every three, a pig, tenderly cooked in the ground,
+  Waited; and f�i, the staff of life, heaped in a mound
+  For each where he sat;--for each, bananas roasted and raw
+  Piled with a bountiful hand, as for horses hay and straw
+  Are stacked in a stable; and fish, the food of desire,[13]
+  And plentiful vessels of sauce, and bread-fruit gilt in the fire;--
+  And kava was common as water. Feasts have there been ere now,
+  And many, but never a feast like that of the folk of Vaiau.
+  All day long they ate with the resolute greed of brutes,
+  And turned from the pigs to the fish, and again from the fish to the
+      fruits,
+  And emptied the vessels of sauce, and drank of the kava deep;
+  Till the young lay stupid as stones, and the strongest nodded to sleep.
+  Sleep that was mighty as death and blind as a moonless night
+  Tethered them hand and foot; and their souls were drowned, and the light
+  Was cloaked from their eyes. Senseless together, the old and the young,
+  The fighter deadly to smite and the prater cunning of tongue,
+  The woman wedded and fruitful, inured to the pangs of birth,
+  And the maid that knew not of kisses, blindly sprawled on the earth.
+  From the hall Hiopa the king and his chiefs came stealthily forth.
+
+  Already the sun hung low and enlightened the peaks of the north;
+  But the wind was stubborn to die and blew as it blows at morn,
+  Showering the nuts in the dusk, and e'en as a banner is torn,
+  High on the peaks of the island, shattered the mountain cloud.
+  And now at once, at a signal, a silent, emulous crowd
+  Set hands to the work of death, hurrying to and fro,
+  Like ants, to furnish the fagots, building them broad and low,
+  And piling them high and higher around the walls of the hall.
+  Silence persisted within, for sleep lay heavy on all
+  But the mother of T�mat�a stood at Hiopa's side,
+  And shook for terror and joy like a girl that is a bride,
+  Night fell on the toilers, and first Hiopa the wise
+  Made the round of the hose, visiting all with his eyes;
+  And all was piled to the eaves, and fuel blockaded the door;
+  And within, in the house beleaguered, slumbered the forty score.
+
+  Then was an aito despatched and came with fire in his hand,
+  And Hiopa took it.--"Within," said he, "is the life of a land;
+  And behold! I breathe on the coal, I breathe on the dales of the east,
+  And silence falls on forest and shore; the voice of the feast
+  Is quenched, and the smoke of cooking; the roof-tree decays and falls
+  On the empty lodge, and the winds subvert deserted walls."
+
+  Therewithal, to the fuel, he laid the glowing coal;
+  And the redness ran in the mass and burrowed within like a mole,
+  And copious smoke was conceived. But, as when a dam is to burst,
+  The water lips it and crosses in silver trickles at first,
+  And then, of a sudden, whelms and bears it away forthright;
+  So now, in a moment, the flame sprang and towered in the night,
+  And wrestled and roared in the wind, and high over house and tree,
+  Stood, like a streaming torch, enlightening land and sea.
+
+  But the mother of T�mat�a threw her arms abroad,
+  "Pyre of my son," she shouted, "debited vengeance of God,
+  Late, late, I behold you, yet I behold you at last,
+  And glory, beholding! For now are the days of my agony past,
+  The lust that famished my soul now eats and drinks its desire,
+  And they that encompassed my son shrivel alive in the fire.
+  Tenfold precious the vengeance that comes after lingering years!
+  Ye quenched the voice of my singer?--hark, in your dying ears,
+  The song of the conflagration! Ye left me a widow alone?
+  --Behold, the whole of your race consumes, sinew and bone
+  And torturing flesh together: man, mother, and maid
+  Heaped in a common shambles; and already, borne by the trade,
+  The smoke of your dissolution darkens the stars of night."
+
+  Thus she spoke, and her stature grew in the people's sight.
+
+
+III
+
+RAH�RO
+
+  Rah�ro was there in the hall asleep: beside him his wife,
+  Comely, a mirthful woman, one that delighted in life;
+  And a girl that was ripe for marriage, shy and sly as a mouse;
+  And a boy, a climber of trees: all the hopes of his house.
+  Unwary, with open hands, he slept in the midst of his folk,
+  And dreamed that he heard a voice crying without, and awoke,
+  Leaping blindly afoot like one from a dream that he fears.
+  A hellish glow and clouds were about him;--it roared in his ears
+  Like the sound of the cataract fall that plunges sudden and steep;
+  And Rah�ro swayed as he stood, and his reason was still asleep.
+  Now the flame struck hard on the house, wind-wielded, a fracturing blow,
+  And the end of the roof was burst and fell on the sleepers below;
+  And the lofty hall, and the feast, and the prostrate bodies of folk,
+  Shone red in his eyes a moment, and then were swallowed of smoke.
+  In the mind of Rah�ro clearness came; and he opened his throat;
+  And as when a squall comes sudden, the straining sail of a boat
+  Thunders aloud and bursts, so thundered the voice of the man.
+  --"The wind and the rain!" he shouted, the mustering word of the
+      clan,[14]
+  And "Up!" and "To arms, men of Vaiau!" But silence replied,
+  Or only the voice of the gusts of the fire, and nothing beside.
+
+  Rah�ro stooped and groped. He handled his womankind,
+  But the fumes of the fire and the kava had quenched the life of their
+      mind,
+  And they lay like pillars prone; and his hand encountered the boy,
+  And there sprang in the gloom of his soul a sudden lightning of joy.
+  "Him can I save!" he thought, "if I were speedy enough."
+  And he loosened the cloth from his loins, and swaddled the child in the
+      stuff:
+  And about the strength of his neck he knotted the burden well.
+
+  There where the roof had fallen, it roared like the mouth of hell.
+  Thither Rah�ro went, stumbling on senseless folk,
+  And grappled a post of the house, and began to climb in the smoke:
+  The last alive of Vaiau; and the son borne by the sire.
+  The post glowed in the grain with ulcers of eating fire,
+  And the fire bit to the blood and mangled his hands and thighs;
+  And the fumes sang in his head like wine and stung in his eyes;
+  And still he climbed, and came to the top, the place of proof,
+  And thrust a hand through the flame, and clambered alive on the roof.
+  But even as he did so, the wind, in a garment of flames and pain,
+  Wrapped him from head to heel; and the waistcloth parted in twain;
+  And the living fruit of his loins dropped in the fire below.
+
+  About the blazing feast-house clustered the eyes of the foe,
+  Watching, hand upon weapon, lest ever a soul should flee,
+  Shading the brow from the glare, straining the neck to see.
+  Only, to leeward, the flames in the wind swept far and wide,
+  And the forest sputtered on fire; and there might no man abide.
+  Thither Rah�ro crept, and dropped from the burning eaves,
+  And crouching low to the ground, in a treble covert of leaves
+  And fire and volleying smoke, ran for the life of his soul
+  Unseen; and behind him under a furnace of ardent coal,
+  Cairned with a wonder of flame, and blotting the night with smoke,
+  Blazed and were smelted together the bones of all his folk.
+
+  He fled unguided at first; but hearing the breakers roar,
+  Thitherward shaped his way, and came at length to the shore.
+  Sound-limbed he was: dry-eyed; but smarted in every part;
+  And the mighty cage of his ribs heaved on his straining heart
+  With sorrow and rage. And "Fools!" he cried, "fools of Vaiau,
+  Heads of swine--gluttons--Alas! and where are they now?
+  Those that I played with, those that nursed me, those that I nursed?
+  God, and I outliving them! I, the least and the worst--
+  I, that thought myself crafty, snared by this herd of swine,
+  In the tortures of hell and desolate, stripped of all that was mine:
+  All!--my friends and my fathers--the silver heads of yore
+  That trooped to the council, the children that ran to the open door
+  Crying with innocent voices and clasping a father's knees!
+  And mine, my wife--my daughter--my sturdy climber of trees,
+  Ah, never to climb again!"
+
+                          Thus in the dusk of the night
+  (For clouds rolled in the sky and the moon was swallowed from sight),
+  Pacing and gnawing his fists, Rah�ro raged by the shore.
+  Vengeance: that must be his. But much was to do before;
+  And first a single life to be snatched from a deadly place,
+  A life, the root of revenge, surviving plant of the race:
+  And next the race to be raised anew, and the lands of the clan
+  Repeopled. So Rah�ro designed, a prudent man
+  Even in wrath, and turned for the means of revenge and escape:
+  A boat to be seized by stealth, a wife to be taken by rape.
+
+  Still was the dark lagoon; beyond on the coral wall,
+  He saw the breakers shine, he heard them bellow and fall.
+  Alone, on the top of the reef, a man with a flaming brand
+  Walked, gazing and pausing, a fish-spear poised in his hand.
+  The foam boiled to his calf when the mightier breakers came,
+  And the torch shed in the wind scattering tufts of flame
+  Afar on the dark lagoon a canoe lay idly at wait:
+  A figure dimly guiding it: surely the fisherman's mate.
+  Rah�ro saw and he smiled. He straightened his mighty thews:
+  Naked, with never a weapon, and covered with scorch and bruise,
+  He straightened his arms, he filled the void of his body with breath,
+  And, strong as the wind in his manhood, doomed the fisher to death.
+
+  Silent he entered the water, and silently swam, and came
+  There where the fisher walked, holding on high the flame.
+  Loud on the pier of the reef volleyed the breach of the sea;
+  And hard at the back of the man, Rah�ro crept to his knee
+  On the coral, and suddenly sprang and seized him, the elder hand
+  Clutching the joint of his throat, the other snatching the brand
+  Ere it had time to fall, and holding it steady and high.
+  Strong was the fisher, brave, and swift of mind and of eye--
+  Strongly he threw in the clutch; but Rah�ro resisted the strain,
+  And jerked, and the spine of life snapped with a crack in twain,
+  And the man came slack in his hands and tumbled a lump at his feet.
+
+  One moment: and there, on the reef, where the breakers whitened and
+      beat,
+  Rah�ro was standing alone, glowing, and scorched and bare,
+  A victor unknown of any, raising the torch in the air.
+  But once he drank of his breath, and instantly set him to fish
+  Like a man intent upon supper at home and a savoury dish.
+  For what should the woman have seen? A man with a torch--and then
+  A moment's blur of the eyes--and a man with a torch again.
+  And the torch had scarcely been shaken. "Ah, surely," Rah�ro said,
+  "She will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy born in the head;
+  But time must be given the fool to nourish a fool's belief."
+  So for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the reef,
+  Pausing at times and gazing, striking at times with the spear:
+  --Lastly, uttered the call; and even as the boat drew near,
+  Like a man that was done with its use, tossed the torch in the sea.
+
+  Lightly he leaped on the boat beside the woman; and she
+  Lightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle and place to sit;
+  For now the torch was extinguished the night was black as the pit.
+  Rah�ro set him to row, never a word he spoke,
+  And the boat sang in the water urged by his vigorous stroke.
+  --"What ails you?" the woman asked, "and why did you drop the brand?
+  We have only to kindle another as soon as we come to land."
+  Never a word Rah�ro replied, but urged the canoe.
+  And a chill fell on the woman.--"Atta! speak! is it you?
+  Speak! Why are you silent? Why do you bend aside?
+  Wherefore steer to the seaward?" thus she panted and cried.
+  Never a word from the oarsman, toiling there in the dark;
+  But right for a gate of the reef he silently headed the bark,
+  And wielding the single paddle with passionate sweep on sweep,
+  Drove her, the little fitted, forth on the open deep.
+  And fear, there where she sat, froze the woman to stone:
+  Not fear of the crazy boat and the weltering deep alone;
+  But a keener fear of the night, the dark, and the ghostly hour,
+  And the thing that drove the canoe with more than a mortal's power
+  And more than a mortal's boldness. For much she knew of the dead
+  That haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like men, for bread,
+  And traffic with human fishers, or slay them and take their ware,
+  Till the hour when the star of the dead[15] goes down, and the morning
+      air
+  Blows, and the cocks are singing on shore. And surely she knew
+  The speechless thing at her side belonged to the grave.[16]
+
+                                                  It blew
+  All night from the south; all night, Rah�ro contended and kept
+  The prow to the cresting sea; and, silent as though she slept,
+  The woman huddled and quaked. And now was the peep of day.
+  High and long on their left the mountainous island lay;
+  And over the peaks of Tai�rapu arrows of sunlight struck.
+  On shore the birds were beginning to sing: the ghostly ruck
+  Of the buried had long ago returned to the covered grave;
+  And here on the sea, the woman, waxing suddenly brave,
+  Turned her swiftly about and looked in the face of the man.
+  And sure he was none that she knew, none of her country or clan:
+  A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the marks of fire,
+  But comely and great of stature, a man to obey and admire.
+
+  And Rah�ro regarded her also, fixed, with a frowning face,
+  Judging the woman's fitness to mother a warlike race.
+  Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the thigh,
+  Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported his eye.
+
+  "Woman," said he, "last night the men of your folk--
+  Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in smoke.
+  It was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man of my hands,
+  Escaped, a single life; and now to the empty lands
+  And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with yourself, alone.
+  Before your mother was born, the die of to-day was thrown
+  And you selected:--your husband, vainly striving, to fall
+  Broken between these hands:--yourself to be severed from all,
+  The places, the people, you love--home, kindred, and clan--
+  And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a kinless man."
+
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF FAMINE
+
+MARQUESAN MANNERS
+
+
+I
+
+THE PRIEST'S VIGIL
+
+  In all the land of the tribe was neither fish nor fruit,
+  And the deepest pit of popoi stood empty to the foot.[1]
+  The clans upon the left and the clans upon the right
+  Now oiled their carven maces and scoured their daggers bright;
+  They gat them to the thicket, to the deepest of the shade,
+  And lay with sleepless eyes in the deadly ambuscade.
+  And oft in the starry even the song of morning rose,
+  What time the oven smoked in the country of their foes;
+  For oft to loving hearts, and waiting ears and sight,
+  The lads that went to forage returned not with the night.
+  Now first the children sickened, and then the women paled,
+  And the great arms of the warrior no more for war availed.
+  Hushed was the deep drum, discarded was the dance;
+  And those that met the priest now glanced at him askance.
+  The priest was a man of years, his eyes were ruby-red,[2]
+  He neither feared the dark nor the terrors of the dead,
+  He knew the songs of races, the names of ancient date;
+  And the beard upon his bosom would have bought the chief's estate.
+  He dwelt in a high-built lodge, hard by the roaring shore,
+  Raised on a noble terrace and with tikis[3] at the door.
+  Within it was full of riches, for he served his nation well,
+  And full of the sound of breakers, like the hollow of a shell.
+  For weeks he let them perish, gave never a helping sign,
+  But sat on his oiled platform to commune with the divine,
+  But sat on his high terrace, with the tikis by his side,
+  And stared on the blue ocean, like a parrot, ruby-eyed.
+
+  Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain height:
+  Out on the round of the sea the gems of the morning light,
+  Up from the round of the sea the streamers of the sun;--
+  But down in the depths of the valley the day was not begun.
+  In the blue of the woody twilight burned red the cocoa-husk,
+  And the women and men of the clan went forth to bathe in the dusk,
+  A word that began to go round, a word, a whisper, a start:
+  Hope that leaped in the bosom, fear that knocked on the heart:
+  "See, the priest is not risen--look, for his door is fast!
+  He is going to name the victims; he is going to help us at last."
+
+  Thrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like one of the dead,
+  The priest lay still in his house, with the roar of the sea in his head;
+  There was never a foot on the floor, there was never a whisper of
+      speech;
+  Only the leering tikis stared on the blinding beach.
+  Again were the mountains fired, again the morning broke;
+  And all the houses lay still, but the house of the priest awoke.
+  Close in their covering roofs lay and trembled the clan,
+  But the aged, red-eyed priest ran forth like a lunatic man;
+  And the village panted to see him in the jewels of death again,
+  In the silver beards of the old and the hair of women slain.
+  Frenzy shook in his limbs, frenzy shone in his eyes,
+  And still and again as he ran, the valley rang with his cries.
+  All day long in the land, by cliff and thicket and den,
+  He ran his lunatic rounds, and howled for the flesh of men;
+  All day long he ate not, nor ever drank of the brook;
+  And all day long in their houses the people listened and shook--
+  All day long in their houses they listened with bated breath,
+  And never a soul went forth, for the sight of the priest was death.
+
+  Three were the days of his running, as the gods appointed of yore,
+  Two the nights of his sleeping alone in the place of gore:
+  The drunken slumber of frenzy twice he drank to the lees,
+  On the sacred stones of the High-place under the sacred trees;
+  With a lamp at his ashen head he lay in the place of the feast,
+  And the sacred leaves of the banyan rustled around the priest.
+  Last, when the stated even fell upon terrace and tree,
+  And the shade of the lofty island lay leagues away to sea,
+  And all the valleys of verdure were heavy with manna and musk,
+  The wreck of the red-eyed priest came gasping home in the dusk.
+  He reeled across the village, he staggered along the shore,
+  And between the leering tikis crept groping through his door.
+
+  There went a stir through the lodges, the voice of speech awoke;
+  Once more from the builded platforms arose the evening smoke.
+  And those who were mighty in war, and those renowned for an art
+  Sat in their stated seats and talked of the morrow apart.
+
+
+II
+
+THE LOVERS
+
+  Hark! away in the woods--for the ears of love are sharp--
+  Stealthily, quietly touched, the note of the one-stringed harp.[4]
+  In the lighted house of her father, why should Taheia start?
+  Taheia heavy of hair, Taheia tender of heart,
+  Taheia the well-descended, a bountiful dealer in love,
+  Nimble of foot like the deer, and kind of eye like the dove?
+  Sly and shy as a cat, with never a change of face,
+  Taheia slips to the door, like one that would breathe a space;
+  Saunters and pauses, and looks at the stars, and lists to the seas;
+  Then sudden and swift as a cat, she plunges under the trees.
+  Swift as a cat she runs, with her garment gathered high,
+  Leaping, nimble of foot, running, certain of eye;
+  And ever to guide her way over the smooth and the sharp,
+  Ever nearer and nearer the note of the one-stringed harp;
+  Till at length, in a glade of the wood, with a naked mountain above,
+  The sound of the harp thrown down, and she in the arms of her love.
+  "Rua,"--"Taheia," they cry--"my heart, my soul, and my eyes,"
+  And clasp and sunder and kiss, with lovely laughter and sighs,
+  "Rua!"--"Taheia, my love,"--"Rua, star of my night,
+  Clasp me, hold me, and love me, single spring of delight."
+
+  And Rua folded her close, he folded her near and long,
+  The living knit to the living, and sang the lover's song:
+
+  _Night, night it is, night upon the palms.
+  Night, night it is, the land-wind has blown.
+  Starry, starry night, over deep and height;
+  Love, love in the valley, love all alone._
+
+  "Taheia, heavy of hair, a foolish thing have we done,
+  To bind what gods have sundered unkindly into one.
+  Why should a lowly lover have touched Taheia's skirt,
+  Taheia the well-descended, and Rua child of the dirt?"
+
+  --"On high with the haka-ikis my father sits in state,
+  Ten times fifty kinsmen salute him in the gate;
+  Round all his martial body, and in bands across his face,
+  The marks of the tattooer proclaim his lofty place.
+  I too, in the hands of the cunning, in the sacred cabin of palm,[5]
+  Have shrunk like the mimosa, and bleated like the lamb;
+  Round half my tender body, that none shall clasp but you,
+  For a crest and a fair adornment go dainty lines of blue.
+  Love, love, beloved Rua, love levels all degrees,
+  And the well-tattooed Taheia clings panting to your knees."
+
+  --"Taheia, song of the morning, how long is the longest love?
+  A cry, a clasp of the hands, a star that falls from above!
+  Ever at morn in the blue, and at night when all is black,
+  Ever it skulks and trembles with the hunter, Death, on its track.
+  Hear me, Taheia, death! For to-morrow the priest shall awake,
+  And the names be named of the victims to bleed for the nation's sake;
+  And first of the numbered many that shall be slain ere noon,
+  Rua the child of the dirt, Rua the kinless loon.
+  For him shall the drum be beat, for him be raised the song,
+  For him to the sacred High-place the chanting people throng,
+  For him the oven smoke as for a speechless beast,
+  And the sire of my Taheia come greedy to the feast."
+  "Rua, be silent, spare me. Taheia closes her ears.
+  Pity my yearning heart, pity my girlish years!
+  Flee from the cruel hands, flee from the knife and coal,
+  Lie hid in the deeps of the woods, Rua, sire of my soul!"
+
+  "Whither to flee, Taheia, whither in all of the land?
+  The fires of the bloody kitchen are kindled on every hand;
+  On every hand in the isle a hungry whetting of teeth,
+  Eyes in the trees above, arms in the brush beneath.
+  Patience to lie in wait, cunning to follow the sleuth,
+  Abroad the foes I have fought, and at home the friends of my youth."
+
+  "Love, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer eye,
+  Hence from the arms of love you go not forth to die.
+  There, where the broken mountain drops sheer into the glen,
+  There shall you find a hold from the boldest hunter of men;
+  There, in the deep recess, where the sun falls only at noon,
+  And only once in the night enters the light of the moon,
+  Nor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain when it falls with a shout;
+  For death and the fear of death beleaguer the valley about.
+  Tapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon despair;
+  Tapu, but what of that? If Rua can only dare.
+  Tapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every one right;
+  But the god of every tapu is not always quick to smite.
+  Lie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful gods,
+  Sleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of the kindly sods,
+  Sleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake for you;
+  And whenever the land-wind blows and the woods are heavy with dew,
+  Alone through the horror of night,[6] with food for the soul of her
+      love,
+  Taheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the dove."
+
+  "Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treacherous things,
+  Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of things;
+  The souls of the dead, the stranglers, that perch in the trees of the
+      wood,
+  Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and good."
+
+  "Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and read;
+  Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her lover in need?
+  Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the fight;
+  The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man in the night."
+
+  So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia arose
+  And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as the swallow goes;
+  And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and followed her flight,
+  And there were the lodges below, each with its door alight;
+  From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out the even long
+  Sudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone of song;
+  The quiet passage of souls over his head in the trees;[7]
+  And from all around the haven the crumbling thunder of seas.
+  "Farewell, my home," said Rua. "Farewell, O quiet seat!
+  To-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death shall beat."
+
+
+III
+
+THE FEAST
+
+  Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked peak,
+  And all the village was stirring, for now was the priest to speak.
+  Forth on his terrace he came, and sat with the chief in talk;
+  His lips were blackened with fever, his cheeks were whiter than chalk;
+  Fever clutched at his hands, fever nodded his head,
+  But, quiet and steady and cruel, his eyes shone ruby-red.
+  In the earliest rays of the sun the chief rose up content;
+  Braves were summoned, and drummers; messengers came and went;
+  Braves ran to their lodges; weapons were snatched from the wall;
+  The commons herded together, and fear was over them all.
+  Festival dresses they wore, but the tongue was dry in their mouth,
+  And the blinking eyes in their faces skirted from north to south.
+
+  Now to the sacred enclosure gathered the greatest and least,
+  And from under the shade of the banyan arose the voice of the feast,
+  The frenzied roll of the drum, and a swift monotonous song.
+  Higher the sun swam up; the trade-wind level and strong
+  Awoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the fans aloud,
+  And over the garlanded heads and shining robes of the crowd
+  Tossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the jewels of sun.
+  Forty the tale of the drums, and the forty throbbed like one;
+  A thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even chorus of song,
+  Swift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thousand strong.
+  And the old men leered at the ovens and licked their lips for the food;
+  And the women stared at the lads, and laughed and looked to the wood.
+  As when the sweltering baker, at night, when the city is dead,
+  Alone in the trough of labour treads and fashions the bread;
+  So in the heat, and the reek, and the touch of woman and man,
+  The naked spirit of evil kneaded the hearts of the clan.
+
+  Now cold was at many a heart, and shaking in many a seat;
+  For there were the empty baskets, but who was to furnish the meat?
+  For here was the nation assembled, and there were the ovens anigh,
+  And out of a thousand singers nine were numbered to die.
+  Till, of a sudden, a shock, a mace in the air, a yell,
+  And, struck in the edge of the crowd, the first of the victims fell.[8]
+  Terror and horrible glee divided the shrinking clan,
+  Terror of what was to follow, glee for a diet of man.
+  Frenzy hurried the chant, frenzy rattled the drums;
+  The nobles, high on the terrace, greedily mouthed their thumbs;
+  And once and again and again, in the ignorant crowd below,
+  Once and again and again descended the murderous blow.
+  Now smoked the oven, and now, with the cutting lip of a shell,
+  A butcher of ninety winters jointed the bodies well.
+  Unto the carven lodge, silent, in order due,
+  The grandees of the nation one after one withdrew;
+  And a line of laden bearers brought to the terrace foot,
+  On poles across their shoulders, the last reserve of fruit.
+  The victims bled for the nobles in the old appointed way;
+  The fruit was spread for the commons, for all should eat to-day.
+  And now was the kava brewed, and now the cocoa ran,
+  Now was the hour of the dance for child and woman and man;
+  And mirth was in every heart and a garland on every head,
+  And all was well with the living and well with the eight who were dead.
+  Only the chiefs and the priest talked and consulted a while:
+  "To-morrow," they said, and "To-morrow," and nodded and seemed to smile:
+  "Rua the child of dirt, the creature of common clay,
+  Rua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone to-day."
+  Out of the groves of the valley, where clear the blackbirds sang,
+  Sheer from the trees of the valley the face of the mountain sprang;
+  Sheer and bare it rose, unscalable barricade,
+  Beaten and blown against by the generous draught of the trade.
+  Dawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light,
+  Close on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars at night.
+  Here and there in a cleft clustered contorted trees,
+  Or the silver beard of a stream hung and swung in the breeze,
+  High overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped for the main,
+  And silently sprinkled below in thin perennial rain.
+  Dark in the staring noon, dark was Rua's ravine,
+  Damp and cold was the air, and the face of the cliffs was green.
+  Here, in the rocky pit, accursed already of old,
+  On a stone in the midst of a river, Rua sat and was cold.
+
+  "Valley of mid-day shadows, valley of silent falls,"
+  Rua sang, and his voice went hollow about the walls,
+  "Valley of shadow and rock, a doleful prison to me,
+  What is the life you can give to a child of the sun and the sea?"
+  And Rua arose and came to the open mouth of the glen,
+  Whence he beheld the woods, and the sea, and houses of men.
+  Wide blew the riotous trade, and smelt in his nostrils good;
+  It bowed the boats on the bay, and tore and divided the wood;
+  It smote and sundered the groves as Moses smote with the rod,
+  And the streamers of all the trees blew like banners abroad;
+  And ever and on, in a lull, the trade-wind brought him along
+  A far-off patter of drums and a far-off whisper of song.
+
+  Swift as the swallow's wings, the diligent hands on the drum
+  Fluttered and hurried and throbbed. "Ah, woe that I hear you come,"
+  Rua cried in his grief, "a sorrowful sound to me,
+  Mounting far and faint from the resonant shore of the sea!
+  Woe in the song! for the grave breathes in the singers' breath,
+  And I hear in the tramp of the drums the beat of the heart of death.
+  Home of my youth! no more through all the length of the years,
+  No more to the place of the echoes of early laughter and tears,
+  No more shall Rua return; no more as the evening ends,
+  To crowded eyes of welcome, to the reaching hands of friends."
+
+  All day long from the High-place the drums and the singing came,
+  And the even fell, and the sun went down, a wheel of flame;
+  And night came gleaning the shadows and hushing the sounds of the wood;
+  And silence slept on all, where Rua sorrowed and stood.
+  But still from the shore of the bay the sound of the festival rang,
+  And still the crowd in the High-place danced and shouted and sang.
+
+  Now over all the isle terror was breathed abroad
+  Of shadowy hands from the trees and shadowy snares in the sod;
+  And before the nostrils of night, the shuddering hunter of men
+  Hurried, with beard on shoulder, back to his lighted den.
+  "Taheia, here to my side!"--"Rua, my Rua, you!"
+  And cold from the clutch of terror, cold with the damp of the dew,
+  Taheia, heavy of hair, leaped through the dark to his arms;
+  Taheia leaped to his clasp, and was folded in from alarms.
+
+  "Rua, beloved, here, see what your love has brought;
+  Coming--alas! returning--swift as the shuttle of thought;
+  Returning, alas! for to-night, with the beaten drum and the voice,
+  In the shine of many torches must the sleepless clan rejoice;
+  And Taheia the well-descended, the daughter of chief and priest,
+  Taheia must sit in her place in the crowded bench of the feast."
+  So it was spoken; and she, girding her garment high,
+  Fled and was swallowed of woods, swift as the sight of an eye.
+
+  Night over isle and sea rolled her curtain of stars,
+  Then a trouble awoke in the air, the east was banded with bars;
+  Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain height;
+  Dawn, in the deepest glen, fell a wonder of light;
+  High and clear stood the palms in the eye of the brightening east,
+  And lo! from the sides of the sea the broken sound of the feast!
+  As, when in days of summer, through open windows, the fly
+  Swift as a breeze and loud as a trump goes by,
+  But when frosts in the field have pinched the wintering mouse,
+  Blindly noses and buzzes and hums in the firelit house:
+  So the sound of the feast gallantly trampled at night,
+  So it staggered and drooped, and droned in the morning light.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE RAID
+
+  It chanced that as Rua sat in the valley of silent falls
+  He heard a calling of doves from high on the cliffy walls.
+  Fire had fashioned of yore, and time had broken, the rocks;
+  There were rooting crannies for trees and nesting-places for flocks;
+  And he saw on the top of the cliffs, looking up from the pit of the
+      shade,
+  A flicker of wings and sunshine, and trees that swung in the trade.
+  "The trees swing in the trade," quoth Rua, doubtful of words,
+  "And the sun stares from the sky, but what should trouble the birds?"
+  Up from the shade he gazed, where high the parapet shone,
+  And he was aware of a ledge and of things that moved thereon.
+  "What manner of things are these? Are they spirits abroad by day?
+  Or the foes of my clan that are come, bringing death by a perilous way?"
+
+  The valley was gouged like a vessel, and round like the vessel's lip,
+  With a cape of the side of the hill thrust forth like the bows of a
+      ship.
+  On the top of the face of the cape a volley of sun struck fair,
+  And the cape overhung like a chin a gulf of sunless air.
+  "Silence, heart! What is that?--that, which flickered and shone,
+  Into the sun for an instant, and in an instant gone?
+  Was it a warrior's plume, a warrior's girdle of hair?
+  Swung in the loop of a rope, is he making a bridge of the air?"
+  Once and again Rua saw, in the trenchant edge of the sky,
+  The giddy conjuring done. And then, in the blink of an eye,
+  A scream caught in with the breath, a whirling packet of limbs,
+  A lump that dived in the gulf, more swift than a dolphin swims;
+  And there was a lump at his feet, and eyes were alive in the lump.
+  Sick was the soul of Rua, ambushed close in a clump;
+  Sick of soul he drew near, making his courage stout;
+  And he looked in the face of the thing, and the life of the thing went
+      out.
+  And he gazed on the tattooed limbs, and, behold, he knew the man:
+  Hoka, a chief of the Vais, the truculent foe of his clan:
+  Hoka a moment since that stepped in the loop of the rope,
+  Filled with the lust of war, and alive with courage and hope.
+
+  Again to the giddy cornice Rua lifted his eyes,
+  And again beheld men passing in the armpit of the skies.
+  "Foes of my race!" cried Rua, "the mouth of Rua is true:
+  Never a shark in the deep is nobler of soul than you.
+  There was never a nobler foray, never a bolder plan;
+  Never a dizzier path was trod by the children of man;
+  And Rua, your evil-doer through all the days of his years,
+  Counts it honour to hate you, honour to fall by your spears."
+  And Rua straightened his back. "O Vais, a scheme for a scheme!"
+  Cried Rua and turned and descended the turbulent stair of the stream,
+  Leaping from rock to rock as the water-wagtail at home
+  Flits through resonant valleys and skims by boulder and foam.
+  And Rua burst from the glen and leaped on the shore of the brook,
+  And straight for the roofs of the clan his vigorous way he took.
+  Swift were the heels of his flight, and loud behind as he went
+  Rattled the leaping stones on the line of his long descent.
+  And ever he thought as he ran, and caught at his gasping breath,
+  "O the fool of a Rua, Rua that runs to his death!
+  But the right is the right," thought Rua, and ran like the wind on the
+      foam,
+  "The right is the right for ever, and home for ever home.
+  For what though the oven smoke? And what though I die ere morn?
+  There was I nourished and tended, and there was Taheia born."
+
+  Noon was high on the High-place, the second noon of the feast;
+  And heat and shameful slumber weighed on people and priest;
+  And the heart drudged slow in bodies heavy with monstrous meals;
+  And the senseless limbs were scattered abroad like spokes of wheels;
+  And crapulous women sat and stared at the stones anigh
+  With a bestial droop of the lip and a swinish rheum in the eye.
+  As about the dome of the bees in the time for the drones to fall,
+  The dead and the maimed are scattered, and lie, and stagger, and crawl;
+  So on the grades of the terrace, in the ardent eye of the day,
+  The half-awake and the sleepers clustered and crawled and lay;
+  And loud as the dome of the bees, in the time of a swarming horde,
+  A horror of many insects hung in the air and roared.
+  Rua looked and wondered; he said to himself in his heart:
+  "Poor are the pleasures of life, and death is the better part."
+  But lo! on the higher benches a cluster of tranquil folk
+  Sat by themselves, nor raised their serious eyes, nor spoke:
+  Women with robes unruffled and garlands duly arranged,
+  Gazing far from the feast with faces of people estranged;
+  And quiet amongst the quiet, and fairer than all the fair,
+  Taheia, the well-descended, Taheia, heavy of hair.
+  And the soul of Rua awoke, courage enlightened his eyes
+  And he uttered a summoning shout and called on the clan to rise.
+  Over against him at once, in the spotted shade of the trees,
+  Owlish and blinking creatures scrambled to hands and knees;
+  On the grades of the sacred terrace, the driveller woke to fear,
+  And the hand of the ham-drooped warrior brandished a wavering spear.
+  And Rua folded his arms, and scorn discovered his teeth;
+  Above the war-crowd gibbered, and Rua stood smiling beneath.
+  Thick, like leaves in the autumn, faint, like April sleet,
+  Missiles from tremulous hands quivered around his feet;
+  And Taheia leaped from her place; and the priest, the ruby-eyed,
+  Ran to the front of the terrace, and brandished his arms and cried:
+  "Hold, O fools, he brings tidings!" and "Hold, 'tis the love of my
+      heart!"
+  Till lo! in front of the terrace, Rua pierced with a dart.
+
+  Taheia cherished his head, and the aged priest stood by,
+  And gazed with eyes of ruby at Rua's darkening eye.
+  "Taheia, here is the end, I die a death for a man.
+  I have given the life of my soul to save an unsavable clan.
+  See them, the drooping of hams! behold me the blinking crew;
+  Fifty spears they cast, and one of fifty true!
+  And you, O priest, the foreteller, foretell for yourself if you can,
+  Foretell the hour of the day when the Vais shall burst on your clan!
+  By the head of the tapu cleft, with death and fire in their hand,
+  Thick and silent like ants, the warriors swarm in the land."
+
+  And they tell that when next the sun had climbed to the noonday skies,
+  It shone on the smoke of feasting in the country of the Vais.
+
+
+
+
+TICONDEROGA
+
+A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS
+
+
+TICONDEROGA
+
+  This is the tale of the man
+    Who heard a word in the night
+  In the land of the heathery hills,
+    In the days of the feud and the fight.
+  By the sides of the rainy sea,
+    Where never a stranger came,
+  On the awful lips of the dead,
+    He heard the outlandish name.
+  It sang in his sleeping ears,
+    It hummed in his waking head:
+  The name--Ticonderoga,
+    The utterance of the dead.
+
+
+I
+
+THE SAYING OF THE NAME
+
+  On the loch-sides of Appin,
+    When the mist blew from the sea,
+  A Stewart stood with a Cameron:
+    An angry man was he.
+  The blood beat in his ears,
+    The blood ran hot to his head,
+  The mist blew from the sea,
+    And there was the Cameron dead.
+  "O, what have I done to my friend,
+    O, what have I done to mysel',
+  That he should be cold and dead,
+    And I in the danger of all?
+
+  "Nothing but danger about me,
+    Danger behind and before,
+  Death at wait in the heather
+    In Appin and Mamore,
+  Hate at all of the ferries,
+    And death at each of the fords,
+  Camerons priming gun-locks
+    And Camerons sharpening swords."
+
+  But this was a man of counsel,
+    This was a man of a score,
+  There dwelt no pawkier Stewart
+    In Appin or Mamore.
+  He looked on the blowing mist,
+    He looked on the awful dead,
+  And there came a smile on his face
+    And there slipped a thought in his head.
+
+  Out over cairn and moss,
+    Out over scrog and scaur,
+  He ran as runs the clansman
+    That bears the cross of war.
+  His heart beat in his body,
+    His hair clove to his face,
+  When he came at last in the gloaming
+    To the dead man's brother's place.
+  The east was white with the moon,
+    The west with the sun was red,
+  And there, in the house-doorway,
+    Stood the brother of the dead.
+
+  "I have slain a man to my danger,
+    I have slain a man to my death.
+  I put my soul in your hands,"
+    The panting Stewart saith.
+  "I lay it bare in your hands,
+    For I know your hands are leal;
+  And be you my targe and bulwark
+    From the bullet and the steel."
+
+  Then up and spoke the Cameron,
+    And gave him his hand again:
+  "There shall never a man in Scotland
+    Set faith in me in vain;
+  And whatever man you have slaughtered,
+    Of whatever name or line,
+  By my sword and yonder mountain,
+    I make your quarrel mine.[1]
+  I bid you in to my fireside,
+    I share with you house and hall;
+  It stands upon my honour
+    To see you safe from all."
+
+  It fell in the time of midnight,
+    When the fox barked in the den,
+  And the plaids were over the faces
+    In all the houses of men,
+  That as the living Cameron
+    Lay sleepless on his bed,
+  Out of the night and the other world,
+    Came in to him the dead.
+
+  "My blood is on the heather,
+    My bones are on the hill;
+  There is joy in the home of ravens
+    That the young shall eat their fill.
+  My blood is poured in the dust,
+    My soul is spilled in the air;
+  And the man that has undone me
+    Sleeps in my brother's care."
+  "I'm wae for your death, my brother,
+    But if all of my house were dead,
+  I couldna withdraw the plighted hand,
+    Nor break the word once said."
+
+  "O, what shall I say to our father,
+    In the place to which I fare?
+  O, what shall I say to our mother,
+    Who greets to see me there?
+  And to all the kindly Camerons
+    That have lived and died long-syne--
+  Is this the word you send them,
+    Fause-hearted brother mine?"
+
+  "It's neither fear nor duty,
+    It's neither quick nor dead,
+  Shall gar me withdraw the plighted hand,
+    Or break the word once said."
+
+  Thrice in the time of midnight,
+    When the fox barked in the den,
+  And the plaids were over the faces
+    In all the houses of men,
+  Thrice as the living Cameron
+    Lay sleepless on his bed,
+  Out of the night and the other world
+    Came in to him the dead,
+  And cried to him for vengeance
+    On the man that laid him low;
+  And thrice the living Cameron
+    Told the dead Cameron, no.
+
+  "Thrice have you seen me, brother,
+    But now shall see me no more,
+  Till you meet your angry fathers
+    Upon the farther shore.
+  Thrice have I spoken, and now,
+    Before the cock be heard,
+  I take my leave for ever
+    With the naming of a word.
+  It shall sing in your sleeping ears,
+    It shall hum in your waking head,
+  The name--Ticonderoga,
+    And the warning of the dead."
+
+  Now when the night was over
+    And the time of people's fears,
+  The Cameron walked abroad,
+    And the word was in his ears.
+  "Many a name I know,
+    But never a name like this;
+  O, where shall I find a skilly man
+    Shall tell me what it is?"
+  With many a man he counselled
+    Of high and low degree,
+  With the herdsman on the mountains
+    And the fishers of the sea.
+  And he came and went unweary,
+    And read the books of yore,
+  And the runes that were written of old
+    On stones upon the moor.
+  And many a name he was told,
+    But never the name of his fears--
+  Never, in east or west,
+    The name that rang in his ears:
+  Names of men and of clans;
+    Names for the grass and the tree,
+  For the smallest tarn in the mountains,
+    The smallest reef in the sea:
+  Names for the high and low,
+    The names of the craig and the flat;
+  But in all the land of Scotland,
+    Never a name like that.
+
+
+II
+
+THE SEEKING OF THE NAME
+
+  And now there was speech in the south,
+    And a man of the south that was wise,
+  A periwig'd lord of London,[2]
+    Called on the clans to rise.
+  And the riders rode, and the summons
+    Came to the western shore,
+  To the land of the sea and the heather,
+    To Appin and Mamore.
+  It called on all to gather
+    From every scrog and scaur,
+  That loved their fathers' tartan
+    And the ancient game of war.
+  And down the watery valley
+    And up the windy hill,
+  Once more, as in the olden,
+    The pipes were sounding shrill;
+  Again in Highland sunshine
+    The naked steel was bright;
+  And the lads, once more in tartan,
+    Went forth again to fight.
+
+  "O, why should I dwell here
+    With a weird upon my life,
+  When the clansmen shout for battle
+    And the war-swords clash in strife?
+  I canna joy at feast,
+    I canna sleep in bed,
+  For the wonder of the word
+    And the warning of the dead.
+  It sings in my sleeping ears,
+    It hums in my waking head,
+  The name--Ticonderoga,
+    The utterance of the dead.
+  Then up, and with the fighting men
+    To march away from here,
+  Till the cry of the great war-pipe
+    Shall drown it in my ear!"
+
+  Where flew King George's ensign
+    The plaided soldiers went:
+  They drew the sword in Germany,
+    In Flanders pitched the tent.
+  The bells of foreign cities
+    Rang far across the plain:
+  They passed the happy Rhine,
+    They drank the rapid Main.
+  Through Asiatic jungles
+    The Tartans filed their way,
+  And the neighing of the war-pipes
+    Struck terror in Cathay.[3]
+
+  "Many a name have I heard," he thought,
+    "In all the tongues of men,
+  Full many a name both here and there,
+    Full many both now and then.
+  When I was at home in my father's house,
+    In the land of the naked knee,
+  Between the eagles that fly in the lift
+    And the herrings that swim in the sea,
+  And now that I am a captain-man
+    With a braw cockade in my hat--
+  Many a name have I heard," he thought,
+    "But never a name like that."
+
+
+III
+
+THE PLACE OF THE NAME
+
+  There fell a war in a woody place,
+    Lay far across the sea,
+  A war of the march in the mirk midnight
+    And the shot from behind the tree,
+  The shaven head and the painted face,
+    The silent foot in the wood,
+  In the land of a strange, outlandish tongue
+    That was hard to be understood.
+
+  It fell about the gloaming,
+    The general stood with his staff,
+  He stood and he looked east and west
+    With little mind to laugh.
+  "Far have I been, and much have I seen,
+    And kennt both gain and loss,
+  But here we have woods on every hand
+    And a kittle water to cross.
+  Far have I been, and much have I seen,
+    But never the beat of this;
+  And there's one must go down to that water-side
+    To see how deep it is."
+
+  It fell in the dusk of the night
+    When unco things betide,
+  The skilly captain, the Cameron,
+    Went down to that waterside.
+  Canny and soft the captain went;
+    And a man of the woody land,
+  With the shaven head and the painted face,
+    Went down at his right hand.
+  It fell in the quiet night,
+    There was never a sound to ken;
+  But all of the woods to the right and the left
+    Lay filled with the painted men.
+
+  "Far have I been, and much have I seen,
+    Both as a man and boy,
+  But never have I set forth a foot,
+    On so perilous an employ."
+  It fell in the dusk of the night
+    When unco things betide,
+  That he was aware of a captain-man
+    Drew near to the water-side.
+  He was aware of his coming
+    Down in the gloaming alone;
+  And he looked in the face of the man,
+    And lo! the face was his own.
+  "This is my weird," he said,
+    "And now I ken the worst;
+  For many shall fall the morn,
+    But I shall fall with the first.
+  O, you of the outland tongue,
+    You of the painted face,
+  This is the place of my death;
+    Can you tell me the name of the place?"
+
+  "Since the Frenchmen have been here
+    They have called it Sault-Marie;
+  But that is a name for priests,
+    And not for you and me.
+  It went by another word,"
+    Quoth he of the shaven head:
+  "It was called Ticonderoga
+    In the days of the great dead."
+  And it fell on the morrow's morning,
+    In the fiercest of the fight,
+  That the Cameron bit the dust
+    As he foretold at night;
+  And far from the hills of heather,
+    Far from the isles of the sea,
+  He sleeps in the place of the name
+    As it was doomed to be.
+
+
+
+
+HEATHER ALE
+
+A GALLOWAY LEGEND
+
+
+HEATHER ALE
+
+  From the bonny bells of heather
+    They brewed a drink long-syne,
+  Was sweeter far than honey,
+    Was stronger far than wine.
+  They brewed it and they drank it,
+    And lay in a blessed swound
+  For days and days together
+    In their dwellings underground.
+
+  There rose a king in Scotland,
+    A fell man to his foes,
+  He smote the Picts in battle,
+    He hunted them like roes.
+  Over miles of the red mountain
+    He hunted as they fled,
+  And strewed the dwarfish bodies
+    Of the dying and the dead.
+
+  Summer came in the country,
+    Red was the heather bell;
+  But the manner of the brewing
+    Was none alive to tell.
+  In the graves that were like children's
+    On many a mountain head,
+  The Brewsters of the Heather
+    Lay numbered with the dead.
+
+  The king in the red moorland
+    Rode on a summer's day;
+  And the bees hummed, and the curlews
+    Cried beside the way.
+  The king rode, and was angry,
+    Black was his brow and pale,
+  To rule in a land of heather
+    And lack the Heather Ale.
+
+  It fortuned that his vassals,
+    Riding free on the heath,
+  Came on a stone that was fallen
+    And vermin hid beneath.
+  Rudely plucked from their hiding,
+    Never a word they spoke:
+  A son and his aged father--
+    Last of the dwarfish folk.
+
+  The king sat high on his charger,
+    He looked on the little men;
+  And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
+    Looked at the king again.
+  Down by the shore he had them;
+    And there on the giddy brink--
+  "I will give you life, ye vermin,
+    For the secret of the drink."
+
+  There stood the son and father;
+    And they looked high and low;
+  The heather was red around them,
+    The sea rumbled below.
+  And up and spoke the father,
+    Shrill was his voice to hear:
+  "I have a word in private,
+    A word for the royal ear.
+
+  "Life is dear to the aged,
+    And honour a little thing;
+  I would gladly sell the secret,"
+    Quoth the Pict to the king.
+  His voice was small as a sparrow's,
+    And shrill and wonderful clear;
+  "I would gladly sell my secret,
+    Only my son I fear.
+
+  "For life is a little matter,
+    And death is nought to the young;
+  And I dare not sell my honour
+    Under the eye of my son.
+  Take _him_, O king, and bind him,
+    And cast him far in the deep:
+  And it's I will tell the secret,
+    That I have sworn to keep."
+
+  They took the son and bound him,
+    Neck and heels in a thong,
+  And a lad took him and swung him,
+    And flung him far and strong,
+  And the sea swallowed his body,
+    Like that of a child of ten;--
+  And there on the cliff stood the father,
+    Last of the dwarfish men.
+
+  "True was the word I told you:
+    Only my son I feared;
+  For I doubt the sapling courage
+    That goes without the beard.
+  But now in vain is the torture,
+    Fire shall never avail;
+  Here dies in my bosom
+    The secret of Heather Ale."
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS AT SEA
+
+
+CHRISTMAS AT SEA
+
+  The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
+  The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;
+  The wind was a nor'-wester, blowing squally off the sea;
+  And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.
+
+  They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;
+  But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
+  We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
+  And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.
+
+  All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;
+  All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;
+  All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
+  For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.
+
+  We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared;
+  But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:
+  So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,
+  And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.
+
+  The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
+  The good red fires were burning bright in every 'long-shore home;
+  The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
+  And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.
+
+  The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
+  For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
+  This day of our adversity was bless�d Christmas morn,
+  And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born.
+
+  O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,
+  My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;
+  And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
+  Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves.
+
+  And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
+  Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;
+  And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
+  To be here and hauling frozen ropes on bless�d Christmas Day.
+
+  They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
+  "All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call.
+  "By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first mate, Jackson, cried.
+  ... "It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied.
+
+  She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
+  And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood,
+  As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,
+  We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.
+
+  And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,
+  As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
+  But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
+  Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.
+
+
+
+
+NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAH�RO
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.--This tale, of which I have not consciously changed a
+single feature, I received from tradition. It is highly popular through
+all the country of the eight Tevas, the clan to which Rah�ro belonged;
+and particularly in Tai�rapu, the windward peninsula of Tahiti, where he
+lived. I have heard from end to end two versions; and as many as five
+different persons have helped me with details. There seems no reason why
+the tale should not be true.
+
+Note 1, page 140. "_The aito_", _quasi_ champion, or brave. One skilled
+in the use of some weapon, who wandered the country challenging
+distinguished rivals and taking part in local quarrels. It was in the
+natural course of his advancement to be at last employed by a chief, or
+king; and it would then be a part of his duties to purvey the victim for
+sacrifice. One of the doomed families was indicated; the aito took his
+weapon and went forth alone; a little behind him bearers followed with
+the sacrificial basket. Sometimes the victim showed fight, sometimes
+prevailed; more often, without doubt, he fell. But whatever body was
+found, the bearers indifferently took up.
+
+Note 2, page 141. "_Pai_", "_Honoura_", and "_Ahupu_". Legendary persons
+of Tahiti, all natives of Tai�rapu. Of the first two I have collected
+singular although imperfect legends, which I hope soon to lay before the
+public in another place. Of Ahupu, except in snatches of song, little
+memory appears to linger. She dwelt at least about Tepari,--"the
+sea-cliffs,"--the eastern fastness of the isle; walked by paths known
+only to herself upon the mountains; was courted by dangerous suitors who
+came swimming from adjacent islands, and defended and rescued (as I
+gather) by the loyalty of native fish. My anxiety to learn more of
+"Ahupu Vehine" became (during my stay in Tai�rapu) a cause of some
+diversion to that mirthful people, the inhabitants.
+
+Note 3, page 142. "_Covered an oven._" The cooking fire is made in a
+hole in the ground, and is then buried.
+
+Note 4, page 143. "_Flies._" This is perhaps an anachronism. Even
+speaking of to-day in Tahiti, the phrase would have to be understood as
+referring mainly to mosquitoes, and these only in watered valleys with
+close woods, such as I suppose to form the surroundings of Rah�ro's
+homestead. A quarter of a mile away, where the air moves freely, you
+shall look in vain for one.
+
+Note 5, page 144. "_Hook_" of mother-of-pearl. Bright-hook fishing, and
+that with the spear, appear to be the favourite native methods.
+
+Note 6, page 145. "_Leaves_," the plates of Tahiti.
+
+Note 7, page 146. "_Yottowas_," so spelt for convenience of
+pronunciation, _quasi_ Tacksmen in the Scottish Highlands. The
+organisation of eight sub-districts and eight yottowas to a division,
+which was in use (until yesterday) among the Tevas, I have attributed
+without authority to the next clan (see page 155).
+
+Note 8, page 146. "_Omare_," pronounce as a dactyl. A loaded
+quarterstaff, one of the two favourite weapons of the Tahitian brave;
+the javelin, or casting spear, was the other.
+
+Note 9, page 148. "_The ribbon of light._" Still to be seen (and heard)
+spinning from one marae to another on Tahiti; or so I have it upon
+evidence that would rejoice the Psychical Society.
+
+Note 10, page 149. "_N�munu-�ra._" The complete name is N�munu-�ra te
+aropa. Why it should be pronounced N�munu, dactylically, I cannot see,
+but so I have always heard it. This was the clan immediately beyond the
+Tevas on the south coast of the island. At the date of the tale the clan
+organisation must have been very weak. There is no particular mention of
+T�mat�a's mother going to P�para, to the head chief of her own clan,
+which would appear her natural recourse. On the other hand, she seems to
+have visited various lesser chiefs among the Tevas, and these to have
+excused themselves solely on the danger of the enterprise. The broad
+distinction here drawn between Nateva and N�munu-�ra is therefore not
+impossibly anachronistic.
+
+Note 11, page 149. "_Hiopa the king._" Hiopa was really the name of the
+king (chief) of Vaiau; but I could never learn that of the king of
+Paea--pronounce to rhyme with the Indian _ayah_--and I gave the name
+where it was most needed. This note must appear otiose indeed to readers
+who have never heard of either of these two gentlemen; and perhaps there
+is only one person in the world capable at once of reading my verses and
+spying the inaccuracy. For him, for Mr. Tati Salmon, hereditary high
+chief of the Tevas, the note is solely written: a small attention from a
+clansman to his chief.
+
+Note 12, page 150. "_Let the pigs be tapu._" It is impossible to explain
+_tapu_ in a note; we have it as an English word, taboo. Suffice it, that
+a thing which was _tapu_ must not be touched, nor a place that was
+_tapu_ visited.
+
+Note 13, page 155. "_Fish, the food of desire._" There is a special word
+in the Tahitian language to signify _hungering after fish_. I may remark
+that here is one of my chief difficulties about the whole story. How did
+king, commons, women, and all come to eat together at this feast? But
+it troubled none of my numerous authorities; so there must certainly be
+some natural explanation.
+
+Note 14, page 160. "_The mustering word of the clan._"
+
+  _Teva te ua,
+  Teva te matai!_
+
+  Teva the wind,
+  Teva the rain!
+
+Notes 15 and 16, page 165. "_The star of the dead._" Venus as a morning
+star. I have collected much curious evidence as to this belief. The dead
+retain their taste for a fish diet, enter into copartnery with living
+fishers, and haunt the reef and the lagoon. The conclusion attributed to
+the nameless lady of the legend would be reached to-day, under the like
+circumstances, by ninety per cent. of Polynesians: and here I probably
+under-state by one-tenth.
+
+
+NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE
+
+In this ballad I have strung together some of the more striking
+particularities of the Marquesas. It rests upon no authority; it is in
+no sense, like "Rah�ro," a native story; but a patchwork of details of
+manners and the impressions of a traveller. It may seem strange, when
+the scene is laid upon these profligate islands, to make the story hinge
+on love. But love is not less known in the Marquesas than elsewhere; nor
+is there any cause of suicide more common in the islands.
+
+Note 1, page 169. "_Pit of popoi._" Where the bread-fruit was stored for
+preservation.
+
+Note 2, page 169. "_Ruby-red._" The priest's eyes were probably red from
+the abuse of kava. His beard (_ib._) is said to be worth an estate; for
+the beards of old men are the favourite head-adornment of the
+Marquesans, as the hair of women formed their most costly girdle. The
+former, among this generally beardless and short-lived people, fetch
+to-day considerable sums.
+
+Note 3, page 169. "_Tikis._" The tiki is an ugly image hewn out of wood
+or stone.
+
+Note 4, page 172. "_The one-stringed harp._" Usually employed for
+serenades.
+
+Note 5, page 173. "_The sacred cabin of palm._" Which, however, no woman
+could approach. I do not know where women were tattooed; probably in the
+common house, or in the bush, for a woman was a creature of small
+account. I must guard the reader against supposing Taheia was at all
+disfigured; the art of the Marquesan tattooer is extreme; and she would
+appear to be clothed in a web of lace, inimitably delicate, exquisite in
+pattern, and of a bluish hue that at once contrasts and harmonises with
+the warm pigment of the native skin. It would be hard to find a woman
+more becomingly adorned than "a well-tattooed" Marquesan.
+
+Note 6, page 175. "_The horror of night._" The Polynesian fear of ghosts
+and of the dark has been already referred to. Their life is beleaguered
+by the dead.
+
+Note 7, page 176. "_The quiet passage of souls._" So, I am told, the
+natives explain the sound of a little wind passing overhead unfelt.
+
+Note 8, page 178. "_The first of the victims fell._" Without doubt, this
+whole scene is untrue to fact. The victims were disposed of privately
+and some time before. And indeed I am far from claiming the credit of
+any high degree of accuracy for this ballad. Even in the time of famine,
+it is probable that Marquesan life went far more gaily than is here
+represented. But the melancholy of to-day lies on the writer's mind.
+
+
+NOTES TO TICONDEROGA
+
+INTRODUCTION.--I first heard this legend of my own country from that
+friend of men of letters, Mr. Alfred Nutt, "there in roaring London's
+central stream," and since the ballad first saw the light of day in
+_Scribner's Magazine_, Mr. Nutt and Lord Archibald Campbell have been in
+public controversy on the facts. Two clans, the Camerons and the
+Campbells, lay claim to this bracing story; and they do well: the man
+who preferred his plighted troth to the commands and menaces of the dead
+is an ancestor worth disputing. But the Campbells must rest content:
+they have the broad lands and the broad page of history; this appanage
+must be denied them; for between the name of _Cameron_ and that of
+_Campbell_ the muse will never hesitate.
+
+Note 1, page 191. Mr. Nutt reminds me it was "by my sword and Ben
+Cruachan" the Cameron swore.
+
+Note 2, page 194. "_A periwig'd lord of London._" The first Pitt.
+
+Note 3, page 195. "_Cathay._" There must be some omission in General
+Stewart's charming "History of the Highland Regiments," a book that
+might well be republished and continued; or it scarce appears how our
+friend could have got to China.
+
+
+NOTE TO HEATHER ALE
+
+Among the curiosities of human nature this legend claims a high place.
+It is needless to remind the reader that the Picts were never
+exterminated, and form to this day a large proportion of the folk of
+Scotland, occupying the eastern and the central parts, from the Firth of
+Forth, or perhaps the Lammermoors, upon the south, to the Ord of
+Caithness on the north. That the blundering guess of a dull chronicler
+should have inspired men with imaginary loathing for their own ancestors
+is already strange; that it should have begotten this wild legend seems
+incredible. Is it possible the chronicler's error was merely nominal?
+that what he told, and what the people proved themselves so ready to
+receive, about the Picts, was true or partly true of some anterior and
+perhaps Lappish savages, small of stature, black of hue, dwelling
+underground--possibly also the distillers of some forgotten spirit? See
+Mr. Campbell's "Tales of the West Highlands."
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF TRAVEL
+
+AND OTHER VERSES
+
+
+SONGS OF TRAVEL
+
+
+I
+
+THE VAGABOND
+
+(TO AN AIR OF SCHUBERT)
+
+  Give to me the life I love,
+    Let the lave go by me,
+  Give the jolly heaven above
+    And the byway nigh me.
+  Bed in the bush with stars to see,
+    Bread I dip in the river--
+  There's the life for a man like me,
+    There's the life for ever.
+
+  Let the blow fall soon or late,
+    Let what will be o'er me;
+  Give the face of earth around
+    And the road before me.
+  Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
+    Nor a friend to know me;
+  All I seek, the heaven above
+    And the road below me.
+
+  Or let autumn fall on me
+    Where afield I linger,
+  Silencing the bird on tree,
+    Biting the blue finger.
+  White as meal the frosty field--
+    Warm the fireside haven--
+  Not to autumn will I yield,
+    Not to winter even!
+
+  Let the blow fall soon or late,
+    Let what will be o'er me;
+  Give the face of earth around,
+    And the road before me.
+  Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
+    Nor a friend to know me.
+  All I ask, the heaven above
+    And the road below me.
+
+
+II
+
+YOUTH AND LOVE--I
+
+  Once only by the garden gate
+    Our lips were joined and parted.
+  I must fulfil an empty fate
+    And travel the uncharted.
+
+  Hail and farewell! I must arise,
+    Leave here the fatted cattle,
+  And paint on foreign lands and skies
+    My Odyssey of battle.
+
+  The untented Kosmos my abode,
+    I pass, a wilful stranger:
+  My mistress still the open road
+    And the bright eyes of danger.
+
+  Come ill or well, the cross, the crown,
+    The rainbow or the thunder,
+  I fling my soul and body down
+    For God to plough them under.
+
+
+III
+
+YOUTH AND LOVE--II
+
+  To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.
+  Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,
+  Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,
+  Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land
+  Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.
+
+  Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down,
+  Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate
+  Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on,
+  Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,
+  Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone.
+
+
+IV
+
+  In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand
+          As heretofore:
+  The unremembered tokens in your hand
+          Avail no more.
+
+  No more the morning glow, no more the grace,
+          Enshrines, endears.
+  Cold beats the light of time upon your face
+          And shows your tears.
+
+  He came and went. Perchance you wept a while
+          And then forgot.
+  Ah, me! but he that left you with a smile
+          Forgets you not.
+
+
+V
+
+  She rested by the Broken Brook,
+    She drank of Weary Well,
+  She moved beyond my lingering look,
+    Ah, whither none can tell!
+
+  She came, she went. In other lands,
+    Perchance in fairer skies,
+  Her hands shall cling with other hands,
+    Her eyes to other eyes.
+
+  She vanished. In the sounding town,
+    Will she remember too?
+  Will she recall the eyes of brown
+    As I recall the blue?
+
+
+VI
+
+  The infinite shining heavens
+    Rose and I saw in the night
+  Uncountable angel stars
+    Showering sorrow and light.
+
+  I saw them distant as heaven,
+    Dumb and shining and dead,
+  And the idle stars of the night
+    Were dearer to me than bread.
+
+  Night after night in my sorrow
+    The stars stood over the sea,
+  Till lo! I looked in the dusk
+    And a star had come down to me.
+
+
+VII
+
+  Plain as the glistering planets shine
+    When winds have cleaned the skies,
+  Her love appeared, appealed for mine
+    And wantoned in her eyes.
+
+  Clear as the shining tapers burned
+    On Cytherea's shrine,
+  Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned,
+    And called and conquered mine.
+
+  The beacon-lamp that Hero lit
+    No fairer shone on sea,
+  No plainlier summoned will and wit,
+    Than hers encouraged me.
+
+  I thrilled to feel her influence near,
+    I struck my flag at sight.
+  Her starry silence smote my ear
+    Like sudden drums at night.
+
+  I ran as, at the cannon's roar,
+    The troops the ramparts man--
+  As in the holy house of yore
+    The willing Eli ran.
+
+  Here, lady, lo! that servant stands
+    You picked from passing men,
+  And should you need nor heart nor hands
+    He bows and goes again.
+
+
+VIII
+
+  To you, let snow and roses
+    And golden locks belong.
+  These are the world's enslavers,
+    Let these delight the throng.
+  For her of duskier lustre
+    Whose favour still I wear,
+  The snow be in her kirtle,
+    The rose be in her hair!
+
+  The hue of highland rivers
+    Careering, full and cool,
+  From sable on to golden,
+    From rapid on to pool--
+  The hue of heather-honey,
+    The hue of honey-bees,
+  Shall tinge her golden shoulder,
+    Shall gild her tawny knees.
+
+
+IX
+
+  Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
+          Beauty awake from rest!
+          Let Beauty awake
+          For Beauty's sake
+  In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
+          And the stars are bright in the west!
+
+  Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
+          Awake in the crimson eve!
+          In the day's dusk end
+          When the shades ascend,
+  Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend
+          To render again and receive!
+
+
+X
+
+  I know not how it is with you--
+    I love the first and last,
+  The whole field of the present view,
+    The whole flow of the past.
+
+  One tittle of the things that are,
+    Nor you should change nor I--
+  One pebble in our path--one star
+    In all our heaven of sky.
+
+  Our lives, and every day and hour,
+    One symphony appear:
+  One road, one garden--every flower
+    And every bramble dear.
+
+
+XI
+
+  I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
+  Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
+  I will make a palace fit for you and me
+  Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
+
+  I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
+  Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
+  And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
+  In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
+
+  And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
+  The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
+  That only I remember, that only you admire,
+  Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
+
+
+XII
+
+WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE
+
+(TO AN AIR OF DIABELLI)
+
+  Berried brake and reedy island,
+    Heaven below, and only heaven above,
+  Through the sky's inverted azure
+    Softly swam the boat that bore our love.
+          Bright were your eyes as the day;
+          Bright ran the stream,
+          Bright hung the sky above.
+  Days of April, airs of Eden,
+    How the glory died through golden hours,
+  And the shining moon arising,
+    How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers!
+          Bright were your eyes in the night:
+          We have lived, my love--
+          O, we have loved, my love.
+
+  Frost has bound our flowing river,
+    Snow has whitened all our island brake,
+  And beside the winter fagot
+    Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake.
+          Still, in the river of dreams,
+          Swims the boat of love--
+          Hark! chimes the falling oar!
+  And again in winter evens
+    When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds,
+  In those ears of ag�d lovers
+    Love's own river warbles in the reeds.
+          Love still the past, O my love!
+          We have lived of yore,
+          O, we have loved of yore.
+
+
+XIII
+
+MATER TRIUMPHANS
+
+  Son of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and fife,
+  To taste the colour of love and the other side of life--
+  From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the frail,
+  Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male.
+
+  The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like nail on each,
+  The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech;
+  Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the sword!
+  Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord.
+
+  Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed priest,
+  Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast.
+  You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings,
+  You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of kings.
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Bright is the ring of words
+    When the right man rings them,
+  Fair the fall of songs
+    When the singer sings them.
+  Still they are carolled and said--
+    On wings they are carried--
+  After the singer is dead
+    And the maker buried.
+
+  Low as the singer lies
+    In the field of heather,
+  Songs of his fashion bring
+    The swains together.
+  And when the west is red
+    With the sunset embers,
+  The lover lingers and sings
+    And the maid remembers.
+
+
+XV
+
+  In the highlands, in the country places,
+  Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
+  And the young fair maidens
+  Quiet eyes;
+  Where essential silence cheers and blesses,
+  And for ever in the hill-recesses
+  _Her_ more lovely music
+  Broods and dies.
+
+  O to mount again where erst I haunted;
+  Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,
+  And the low green meadows
+  Bright with sward;
+  And when even dies, the million-tinted,
+  And the night has come, and planets glinted,
+  Lo, the valley hollow
+  Lamp-bestarred!
+
+  O to dream, O to awake and wander
+  There, and with delight to take and render,
+  Through the trance of silence,
+  Quiet breath;
+  Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,
+  Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;
+  Only winds and rivers,
+  Life and death.
+
+
+XVI
+
+(TO THE TUNE OF WANDERING WILLIE)
+
+  Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
+    Hunger my driver, I go where I must.
+  Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather;
+    Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust.
+  Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree,
+    The true word of welcome was spoken in the door--
+  Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight,
+    Kind folks of old, you come again no more.
+
+  Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,
+    Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.
+  Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
+    Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.
+  Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,
+    Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold.
+  Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,
+    The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.
+
+  Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor-fowl,
+    Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers;
+  Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,
+    Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours;
+  Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood--
+    Fair shine the day on the house with open door;
+  Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney--
+    But I go for ever and come again no more.
+
+
+XVII
+
+WINTER
+
+  In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
+  The redbreast looks in vain
+  For hips and haws,
+  Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane
+  The silver pencil of the winter draws.
+
+  When all the snowy hill
+  And the bare woods are still;
+  When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs,
+  And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire,
+  Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs--
+  More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire!
+
+    SARANAC LAKE.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  The stormy evening closes now in vain,
+  Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain,
+          While here in sheltered house
+          With fire-ypainted walls,
+          I hear the wind abroad,
+          I hark the calling squalls--
+  "Blow, blow," I cry, "you burst your cheeks in vain!
+  Blow, blow," I cry, "my love is home again!"
+
+  Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight
+  Bore still the precious freight of my delight,
+          That here in sheltered house
+          With fire-ypainted walls,
+          Now hears the wind abroad,
+          Now harks the calling squalls.
+  "Blow, blow," I cry, "in vain you rouse the sea,
+  My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!"
+
+
+XIX
+
+TO DR. HAKE
+
+(ON RECEIVING A COPY OF VERSES)
+
+  In the belov�d hour that ushers day,
+  In the pure dew, under the breaking grey,
+  One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake,
+  With brief r�veill� summons all the brake:
+  _Chirp_, _chirp_, it goes; nor waits an answer long;
+  And that small signal fills the grove with song.
+
+  Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two;
+  It scarce was music, but 'twas all I knew.
+  It was not music, for I lacked the art,
+  Yet what but frozen music filled my heart?
+  _Chirp_, _chirp_, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain;
+  But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain,
+  For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale,
+  All silent, sat an ancient nightingale.
+  My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke;
+  And with a tide of song his silence broke.
+
+
+XX
+
+TO ----
+
+  I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills;
+  I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure,
+  In peace or war a Roman full equipt;
+  And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings
+  Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth,
+  From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words.
+  What, what, was I to honour thee? A child;
+  A youth in ardour but a child in strength,
+  Who after virtue's golden chariot-wheels
+  Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal.
+  So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart.
+
+  Since then my steps have visited that flood
+  Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease,
+  The voices and the tears of life expire.
+  Thither the prints go down, the hero's way
+  Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid's:
+  Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood,
+  And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers,
+  That here his hunting closes with the great:
+  So one and all go down, nor aught returns.
+
+  For thee, for us, the sacred river waits,
+  For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend;
+  There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs
+  He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides;
+  Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in.
+  So when, beside that margin, I discard
+  My more than mortal weakness, and with thee
+  Through that still land unfearing I advance;
+  If then at all we keep the touch of joy,
+  Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered--I,
+  O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged.
+
+
+XXI
+
+  The morning drum-call on my eager ear
+  Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew
+  Lies yet undried along my field of noon.
+  But now I pause at whiles in what I do,
+  And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear
+  (My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon.
+
+
+XXII
+
+  I have trod the upward and the downward slope;
+  I have endured and done in days before;
+  I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope;
+  And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  He hears with gladdened heart the thunder
+    Peal, and loves the falling dew;
+  He knows the earth above and under--
+    Sits and is content to view.
+
+  He sits beside the dying ember,
+    God for hope and man for friend,
+  Content to see, glad to remember,
+    Expectant of the certain end.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Farewell, fair day and fading light!
+  The clay-born here, with westward sight,
+  Marks the huge sun now downward soar.
+  Farewell. We twain shall meet no more.
+
+  Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh
+  My late contemned occasion die.
+  I linger useless in my tent:
+  Farewell, fair day, so foully spent!
+
+  Farewell, fair day. If any God
+  At all consider this poor clod,
+  He who the fair occasion sent
+  Prepared and placed the impediment.
+
+  Let Him diviner vengeance take--
+  Give me to sleep, give me to wake
+  Girded and shod, and bid me play
+  The hero in the coming day!
+
+
+XXV
+
+IF THIS WERE FAITH
+
+  God, if this were enough,
+  That I see things bare to the buff
+  And up to the buttocks in mire;
+  That I ask nor hope nor hire,
+  Nut in the husk,
+  Nor dawn beyond the dusk,
+  Nor life beyond death:
+  God, if this were faith?
+
+  Having felt Thy wind in my face
+  Spit sorrow and disgrace,
+  Having seen Thine evil doom
+  In Golgotha and Khartoum,
+  And the brutes, the work of Thine hands,
+  Fill with injustice lands
+  And stain with blood the sea:
+  If still in my veins the glee
+  Of the black night and the sun
+  And the lost battle, run:
+  If, an adept,
+  The iniquitous lists I still accept
+  With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,
+  And still to battle and perish for a dream of good:
+  God, if that were enough?
+
+  If to feel in the ink of the slough,
+  And the sink of the mire,
+  Veins of glory and fire
+  Run through and transpierce and transpire,
+  And a secret purpose of glory in every part,
+  And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;
+  To thrill with the joy of girded men,
+  To go on for ever and fail and go on again,
+  And be mauled to the earth and arise,
+  And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the eyes:
+  With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night
+  That somehow the right is the right
+  And the smooth shall bloom from the rough:
+  Lord, if that were enough?
+
+
+XXVI
+
+MY WIFE
+
+  Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
+  With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
+  Steel-true and blade-straight,
+  The great artificer
+  Made my mate.
+
+  Honour, anger, valour, fire;
+  A love that life could never tire,
+  Death quench or evil stir,
+  The mighty master
+  Gave to her.
+
+  Teacher, tender, comrade, wife,
+  A fellow-farer true through life,
+  Heart-whole and soul-free
+  The august father
+  Gave to me.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+TO THE MUSE
+
+  Resign the rhapsody, the dream,
+    To men of larger reach;
+  Be ours the quest of a plain theme,
+    The piety of speech.
+
+  As monkish scribes from morning break
+    Toiled till the close of light,
+  Nor thought a day too long to make
+    One line or letter bright:
+
+  We also with an ardent mind,
+    Time, wealth, and fame forgot,
+  Our glory in our patience find
+    And skim, and skim the pot:
+
+  Till last, when round the house we hear
+    The evensong of birds,
+  One corner of blue heaven appear
+    In our clear well of words.
+
+  Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart!
+    Sans finish and sans frame,
+  Leave unadorned by needless art
+    The picture as it came.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS
+
+  Since long ago, a child at home,
+  I read and longed to rise and roam,
+  Where'er I went, whate'er I willed,
+  One promised land my fancy filled.
+  Hence the long roads my home I made;
+  Tossed much in ships; have often laid
+  Below the uncurtained sky my head,
+  Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted:
+  And many a thousand hills I crossed
+  And corners turned--Love's labour lost,
+  Till, Lady, to your isle of sun
+  I came not hoping; and, like one
+  Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes,
+  And hailed my promised land with cries.
+
+  Yes, Lady, here I was at last;
+  Here found I all I had forecast:
+  The long roll of the sapphire sea
+  That keeps the land's virginity;
+  The stalwart giants of the wood
+  Laden with toys and flowers and food;
+  The precious forest pouring out
+  To compass the whole town about;
+  The town itself with streets of lawn,
+  Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn,
+  Where the brown children all the day,
+  Keep up a ceaseless noise of play,
+  Play in the sun, play in the rain,
+  Nor ever quarrel or complain;--
+  And late at night, in the woods of fruit,
+  Hark I do you hear the passing flute?
+
+  I threw one look to either hand,
+  And knew I was in Fairyland.
+  And yet one point of being so
+  I lacked. For, Lady (as you know),
+  Whoever by his might of hand
+  Won entrance into Fairyland,
+  Found always with admiring eyes
+  A Fairy princess kind and wise.
+  It was not long I waited; soon
+  Upon my threshold, in broad noon,
+  Gracious and helpful, wise and good,
+  The Fairy Princess Mo� stood.[1]
+
+    TANTIRA, TAHITI, _Nov. 5, 1888_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+  [1] This is the same Princess Mo� whose charms of person and disposition
+    have been recorded by the late Lord Pembroke in "South Sea Bubbles,"
+    and by M. Pierre Loti in the "Mariage de Loti."
+
+
+XXIX
+
+TO KALAKAUA
+
+(WITH A PRESENT OF A PEARL)
+
+  The Silver Ship, my King--that was her name
+  In the bright islands whence your fathers came[1]--
+  The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides,
+  Below your palace in your harbour rides:
+  And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore,
+  Like eager merchants count their treasures o'er.
+  One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing,
+  Now doubly precious since it pleased a king.
+
+  The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre
+  For bards to give to kings what kings admire.
+  'Tis mine to offer for Apollo's sake;
+  And since the gift is fitting, yours to take.
+  To golden hands the golden pearl I bring:
+  The ocean jewel to the island king.
+
+  HONOLULU, _Feb. 3, 1889_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+  [1] The yacht _Casco_ had been so called by the people of Fakarava in
+    Tahiti.
+
+
+XXX
+
+TO PRINCESS KAIULANI
+
+[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at Waikiki,
+within easy walk of Kaiulani's banyan! When she comes to my land and her
+father's, and the rain beats upon the window (as I fear it will), let
+her look at this page; it will be like a weed gathered and pressed at
+home; and she will remember her own islands, and the shadow of the
+mighty tree; and she will hear the peacocks screaming in the dusk and
+the wind blowing in the palms; and she will think of her father sitting
+there alone.--R. L. S.]
+
+  Forth from her land to mine she goes,
+  The island maid, the island rose,
+  Light of heart and bright of face:
+  The daughter of a double race.
+
+  Her islands here, in Southern sun,
+  Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone,
+  And I, in her dear banyan shade,
+  Look vainly for my little maid.
+
+  But our Scots islands far away
+  Shall glitter with unwonted day,
+  And cast for once their tempests by
+  To smile in Kaiulani's eye.
+
+    HONOLULU.
+
+
+XXXI
+
+TO MOTHER MARYANNE
+
+  To see the infinite pity of this place,
+  The mangled limb, the devastated face,
+  The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod--
+  A fool were tempted to deny his God.
+  He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again,
+  Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain;
+  He marks the sisters on the mournful shores;
+  And even a fool is silent and adores.
+
+    GUEST HOUSE, KALAWAO, MOLOKAI.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+IN MEMORIAM E.H.
+
+  I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare,
+  I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair.
+  Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown,
+  Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the crown.
+
+  The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel of age.
+  Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage.
+  Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest part--
+  At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the heart.
+
+  The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the dust,
+  And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the just;
+  Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair,
+  Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair.
+
+    HONOLULU.
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+(A FRAGMENT)
+
+  Long must elapse ere you behold again
+  Green forest frame the entry of the lane--
+  The wild lane with the bramble and the briar,
+  The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire,
+  The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts,
+  And ramblers' donkey drinking from the ruts:--
+  Long ere you trace how deviously it leads,
+  Back from man's chimneys and the bleating meads
+  To the woodland shadow, to the silvan hush,
+  When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush--
+  Back from the sun and bustle of the vale
+  To where the great voice of the nightingale
+  Fills all the forest like a single room,
+  And all the banks smell of the golden broom;
+  So wander on until the eve descends,
+  And back returning to your firelit friends,
+  You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light,
+  Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy's kite.
+
+  Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise,
+  Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes;
+  The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain
+  And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again.
+  Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard,
+  And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard,
+  And senseless clamour of the calm, at night
+  Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light,
+  In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower
+  Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour....
+
+    SCHOONER _Equator_.
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+TO MY OLD FAMILIARS
+
+  Do you remember--can we e'er forget?--
+  How, in the coiled perplexities of youth,
+  In our wild climate, in our scowling town,
+  We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared?
+  The belching winter wind, the missile rain,
+  The rare and welcome silence of the snows,
+  The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night,
+  The grimy spell of the nocturnal town,
+  Do you remember?--Ah, could one forget!
+  As when the fevered sick that all night long
+  Listed the wind intone, and hear at last
+  The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer
+  Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,--
+  With sudden ardour, these desire the day:
+  So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope;
+  So we, exulting, hearkened and desired.
+  For lo! as in the palace porch of life
+  We huddled with chimeras, from within--
+  How sweet to hear!--the music swelled and fell,
+  And through the breach of the revolving doors
+  What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled!
+
+  I have since then contended and rejoiced;
+  Amid the glories of the house of life
+  Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld:
+  Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes
+  Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love
+  Fall insignificant on my closing ears,
+  What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind
+  In our inclement city? what return
+  But the image of the emptiness of youth,
+  Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice
+  Of discontent and rapture and despair?
+  So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp,
+  The momentary pictures gleam and fade
+  And perish, and the night resurges--these
+  Shall I remember, and then all forget.
+
+    APEMAMA.
+
+
+XXXV
+
+  The tropics vanish, and meseems that I,
+  From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir,
+  Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again.
+  Far set in fields and woods, the town I see
+  Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke,
+  Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort
+  Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills,
+  New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth
+  Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles,
+  And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns.
+
+  There, on the sunny frontage of a hill,
+  Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead,
+  My dead, the ready and the strong of word.
+  Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive;
+  The sea bombards their founded towers; the night
+  Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers,
+  One after one, here in this grated cell,
+  Where the rain erases and the rust consumes,
+  Fell upon lasting silence. Continents
+  And continental oceans intervene;
+  A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle,
+  Environs and confines their wandering child
+  In vain. The voice of generations dead
+  Summons me, sitting distant, to arise,
+  My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace,
+  And, all mutation over, stretch me down
+  In that denoted city of the dead.
+
+    APEMAMA.
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+TO S. C.
+
+  I heard the pulse of the besieging sea
+  Throb far away all night. I heard the wind
+  Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms.
+  I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand,
+  And flailing fans and shadows of the palm;
+  The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault;
+  The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept.
+    The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives,
+  Slept in the precinct of the palisade;
+  Where single, in the wind, under the moon,
+  Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire,
+  Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel.
+    To other lands and nights my fancy turned--
+  To London first, and chiefly to your house,
+  The many-pillared and the well-beloved.
+  There yearning fancy lighted; there again
+  In the upper room I lay, and heard far off
+  The unsleeping city murmur like a shell;
+  The muffled tramp of the Museum guard
+  Once more went by me; I beheld again
+  Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street;
+  Again I longed for the returning morn,
+  The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds,
+  The consentaneous trill of tiny song
+  That weaves round monumental cornices
+  A passing charm of beauty. Most of all,
+  For your light foot I wearied, and your knock
+  That was the glad r�veill� of my day.
+    Lo, now, when to your task in the great house
+  At morning through the portico you pass,
+  One moment glance, where by the pillared wall
+  Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke,
+  Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument
+  Of faiths forgot and races undivined;
+  Sit now disconsolate, remembering well
+  The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd,
+  The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice,
+  Incessant, of the breakers on the shore.
+  As far as these from their ancestral shrine,
+  So far, so foreign, your divided friends
+  Wander, estranged in body, not in mind.
+
+    APEMAMA.
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA
+
+[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will look in
+vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both set up to be
+in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our separation in verse.
+Whether or not his Majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard
+posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not
+before a year. The following lines represent my part of the contract,
+and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, they may
+entertain a civilised audience. Nothing throughout has been invented or
+exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as the author's muse has
+confined herself to stringing into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or
+heard during two months' residence upon the island.--R. L. S.]
+
+
+  _ENVOI_
+
+    _Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards;
+    And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine,
+    Our now division duly solemnise.
+    Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one:
+    The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate!
+    You to the blinding palace-yard shall call
+    The prefect of the singers, and to him,
+    Listening devout, your valedictory verse
+    Deliver; he, his attribute fulfilled,
+    To the island chorus hand your measures on,
+    Wed now with harmony: so them, at last,
+    Night after night, in the open hall of dance,
+    Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand,
+    Intone and bray and bark. Unfortunate!
+    Paper and print alone shall honour mine._
+
+
+THE SONG
+
+  Let now the King his ear arouse
+  And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows,
+  The while, our bond to implement,
+  My muse relates and praises his descent.
+
+    I
+
+  Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing
+  Who on the lone seas quickened of a King.
+  She, from the shore and puny homes of men,
+  Beyond the climber's sea-discerning ken,
+  Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear,
+  Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near.
+  She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale,
+  The simple sea was void of isle or sail--
+  Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared--
+  When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared.
+  But she, secure in the decrees of fate,
+  Made strong her bosom and received the mate,
+  And, men declare, from that marine embrace
+  Conceived the virtues of a stronger race.
+
+    II
+
+  Her stern descendant next I praise,
+  Survivor of a thousand frays:--
+  In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng;
+  Led and was trusted by the strong;
+  And when spears were in the wood,
+  Like a tower of vantage stood:--
+  Whom, not till seventy years had sped,
+  Unscarred of breast, erect of head,
+  Still light of step, still bright of look,
+  The hunter, Death, had overtook.
+
+    III
+
+  His sons, the brothers twain, I sing.
+  Of whom the elder reigned a King.
+  No Childeric he, yet much declined
+  From his rude sire's imperious mind,
+  Until his day came when he died,
+  He lived, he reigned, he versified.
+  But chiefly him I celebrate
+  That was the pillar of the state,
+  Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien,
+  The peaceful and the warlike scene;
+  And played alike the leader's part
+  In lawful and unlawful art.
+  His soldiers with emboldened ears
+  Heard him laugh among the spears.
+  He could deduce from age to age
+  The web of island parentage;
+  Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance,
+  For any festal circumstance:
+  And fitly fashion oar and boat,
+  A palace or an armour coat.
+  None more availed than he to raise
+  The strong, suffumigating blaze,
+  Or knot the wizard leaf: none more,
+  Upon the untrodden windward shore
+  Of the isle, beside the beating main,
+  To cure the sickly and constrain,
+  With muttered words and waving rods,
+  The gibbering and the whistling gods.
+  But he, though thus with hand and head
+  He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led,
+  And thus in virtue and in might
+  Towered to contemporary sight--
+  Still in fraternal faith and love,
+  Remained below to reach above,
+  Gave and obeyed the apt command,
+  Pilot and vassal of the land.
+
+    IV
+
+  My Tembinok' from men like these
+  Inherited his palaces,
+  His right to rule, his powers of mind,
+  His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined.
+  Stern bearer of the sword and whip,
+  A master passed in mastership,
+  He learned, without the spur of need,
+  To write, to cipher, and to read;
+  From all that touch on his prone shore
+  Augments his treasury of lore,
+  Eager in age as erst in youth
+  To catch an art, to learn a truth,
+  To paint on the internal page
+  A clearer picture of the age.
+  His age, you say? But ah, not so!
+  In his lone isle of long ago,
+  A royal Lady of Shalott,
+  Sea-sundered, he beholds it not;
+  He only hears it far away.
+  The stress of equatorial day
+  He suffers; he records the while
+  The vapid annals of the isle;
+  Slaves bring him praise of his renown,
+  Or cackle of the palm-tree town;
+  The rarer ship and the rare boat
+  He marks; and only hears remote,
+  Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel,
+  The thunder of the turning wheel.
+
+    V
+
+  For the unexpected tears he shed
+  At my departing, may his lion head
+  Not whiten, his revolving years
+  No fresh occasion minister of tears;
+  At book or cards, at work or sport,
+  Him may the breeze across the palace court
+  For ever fan; and swelling near
+  For ever the loud song divert his ear.
+
+    SCHOONER _Equator_, AT SEA.
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+THE WOODMAN
+
+  In all the grove, nor stream nor bird
+  Nor aught beside my blows was heard,
+  And the woods wore their noonday dress--
+  The glory of their silentness.
+  From the island summit to the seas,
+  Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees
+  Groped upward in the gaps. The green
+  Inarboured talus and ravine
+  By fathoms. By the multitude,
+  The rugged columns of the wood
+  And bunches of the branches stood:
+  Thick as a mob, deep as a sea,
+  And silent as eternity.
+
+  With lowered axe, with backward head,
+  Late from this scene my labourer fled,
+  And with a ravelled tale to tell,
+  Returned. Some denizen of hell,
+  Dead man or disinvested god,
+  Had close behind him peered and trod,
+  And triumphed when he turned to flee.
+  How different fell the lines with me!
+  Whose eye explored the dim arcade
+  Impatient of the uncoming shade--
+  Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold,
+  Or mystic lingerer from of old:
+  Vainly. The fair and stately things,
+  Impassive as departed kings,
+  All still in the wood's stillness stood,
+  And dumb. The rooted multitude
+  Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed,
+  Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed
+  No other art, no hope, they knew,
+  Than clutch the earth and seek the blue.
+  'Mid vegetable king and priest
+  And stripling, I (the only beast)
+  Was at the beast's work, killing; hewed
+  The stubborn roots across, bestrewed
+  The glebe with the dislustred leaves,
+  And bade the saplings fall in sheaves;
+  Bursting across the tangled math
+  A ruin that I called a path,
+  A Golgotha that, later on,
+  When rains had watered, and suns shone,
+  And seeds enriched the place, should bear
+  And be called garden. Here and there,
+  I spied and plucked by the green hair
+  A foe more resolute to live,
+  The toothed and killing sensitive.
+  He, semi-conscious, fled the attack;
+  He shrank and tucked his branches back;
+  And straining by his anchor strand,
+  Captured and scratched the rooting hand.
+  I saw him crouch, I felt him bite;
+  And straight my eyes were touched with sight.
+  I saw the wood for what it was;
+  The lost and the victorious cause;
+  The deadly battle pitched in line,
+  Saw silent weapons cross and shine:
+  Silent defeat, silent assault,
+  A battle and a burial vault.
+
+  Thick round me in the teeming mud
+  Briar and fern strove to the blood.
+  The hooked liana in his gin
+  Noosed his reluctant neighbours in:
+  There the green murderer throve and spread,
+  Upon his smothering victims fed,
+  And wantoned on his climbing coil.
+  Contending roots fought for the soil
+  Like frightened demons: with despair
+  Competing branches pushed for air.
+  Green conquerors from overhead
+  Bestrode the bodies of their dead;
+  The Caesars of the silvan field,
+  Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield:
+  For in the groins of branches, lo!
+  The cancers of the orchid grow.
+  Silent as in the listed ring
+  Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling,
+  Dumb as by yellow Hooghly's side
+  The suffocating captives died:
+  So hushed the woodland warfare goes
+  Unceasing; and the silent foes
+  Grapple and smother, strain and clasp
+  Without a cry, without a gasp.
+  Here also sound Thy fans, O God,
+  Here too Thy banners move abroad:
+  Forest and city, sea and shore,
+  And the whole earth, Thy threshing-floor!
+  The drums of war, the drums of peace,
+  Roll through our cities without cease,
+  And all the iron halls of life
+  Ring with the unremitting strife.
+
+  The common lot we scarce perceive.
+  Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve:
+  The bugle calls--we mourn a few!
+  What corporal's guard at Waterloo?
+  What scanty hundreds more or less
+  In the man-devouring Wilderness?
+  What handful bled on Delhi ridge?
+  --See, rather, London, on thy bridge
+  The pale battalions trample by,
+  Resolved to slay, resigned to die.
+  Count, rather, all the maimed and dead
+  In the unbrotherly war of bread.
+  See, rather, under sultrier skies
+  What vegetable Londons rise,
+  And teem, and suffer without sound.
+  Or in your tranquil garden ground,
+  Contented, in the falling gloom,
+  Saunter and see the roses bloom.
+  That these might live, what thousands died!
+  All day the cruel hoe was plied;
+  The ambulance barrow rolled all day;
+  Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay,
+  Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud
+  And bathed in vegetable blood;
+  And the long massacre now at end,
+  See! where the lazy coils ascend,
+  See, where the bonfire sputters red
+  At even, for the innocent dead.
+
+  Why prate of peace? when, warriors all,
+  We clank in harness into hall,
+  And ever bare upon the board
+  Lies the necessary sword.
+  In the green field or quiet street,
+  Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat;
+  Labour by day and wake o' nights,
+  In war with rival appetites.
+  The rose on roses feeds; the lark
+  On larks. The sedentary clerk
+  All morning with a diligent pen
+  Murders the babes of other men;
+  And like the beasts of wood and park,
+  Protects his whelps, defends his den.
+
+  Unshamed the narrow aim I hold;
+  I feed my sheep, patrol my fold;
+  Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks,
+  A pious outlaw on the rocks
+  Of God and morning; and when time
+  Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb
+  Where no undubbed civilian dares,
+  In my war harness, the loud stairs
+  Of honour; and my conqueror
+  Hail me a warrior fallen in war.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+TROPIC RAIN
+
+  As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well,
+  Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell,
+  So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue,
+  So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and clung.
+
+  Sudden the thunder was drowned--quenched was the levin light--
+  And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night.
+  Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen,
+  Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men;
+
+  And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and feared as you fell.
+  You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a bell.
+  You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with brooks.
+  You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks.
+
+  And methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two;
+  And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and dew;
+  And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air;
+  And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair.
+  Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain;
+  And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XL
+
+AN END OF TRAVEL
+
+  Let now your soul in this substantial world
+  Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored;--
+  This spectacle immutably from now
+  The picture in your eye; and when time strikes,
+  And the green scene goes on the instant blind--
+  The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day
+  Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XLI
+
+  We uncommiserate pass into the night
+  From the loud banquet, and departing leave
+  A tremor in men's memories, faint and sweet
+  And frail as music. Features of our face,
+  The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand,
+  Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth:
+  Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude
+  Applauds the new performer. One, perchance,
+  One ultimate survivor lingers on,
+  And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls
+  The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die,
+  He too, returning, through the curtain comes,
+  And the new age forgets us and goes on.
+
+
+XLII
+
+  Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+    Say, could that lad be I?
+  Merry of soul he sailed on a day
+    Over the sea to Skye.
+
+  Mull was astern, Rum on the port,
+    Eigg on the starboard bow;
+  Glory of youth glowed in his soul:
+    Where is that glory now?
+
+  Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+    Say, could that lad be I?
+  Merry of soul he sailed on a day
+    Over the sea to Skye.
+
+  Give me again all that was there,
+    Give me the sun that shone!
+  Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
+    Give me the lad that's gone!
+
+  Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+    Say, could that lad be I?
+  Merry of soul he sailed on a day
+    Over the sea to Skye.
+
+  Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
+    Mountains of rain and sun,
+  All that was good, all that was fair,
+    All that was me is gone.
+
+
+XLIII
+
+TO S.R. CROCKETT
+
+(ON RECEIVING A DEDICATION)
+
+  Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,
+    Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,
+  Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,
+    My heart remembers how!
+
+  Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,
+    Standing-stones on the vacant wine-red moor,
+  Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished races,
+    And winds, austere and pure:
+
+  Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,
+    Hills of home! and to hear again the call;
+  Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,
+    And hear no more at all.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XLIV
+
+EVENSONG
+
+  The embers of the day are red
+  Beyond the murky hill.
+  The kitchen smokes: the bed
+  In the darkling house is spread:
+  The great sky darkens overhead,
+  And the great woods are shrill.
+  So far have I been led,
+  Lord, by Thy will:
+  So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.
+
+  The breeze from the embalm�d land
+  Blows sudden toward the shore,
+  And claps my cottage door.
+  I hear the signal, Lord--I understand.
+  The night at Thy command
+  Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+
+
+ADDITIONAL POEMS
+
+
+ADDITIONAL POEMS
+
+
+A FAMILIAR EPISTLE
+
+  Blame me not that this epistle
+      Is the first you have from me;
+          Idleness hath held me fettered;
+          But at last the times are bettered,
+  And once more I wet my whistle
+      Here in France beside the sea.
+
+  All the green and idle weather,
+      I have had in sun and shower
+          Such an easy, warm subsistence,
+          Such an indolent existence,
+  I should find it hard to sever
+      Day from day and hour from hour.
+
+  Many a tract-provided ranter
+      May upbraid me, dark and sour,
+          Many a bland Utilitarian,
+          Or excited Millenarian,
+  --"_Pereunt et imputantur_"--
+      You must speak to every hour.
+
+  But (the very term's deception)
+      You at least, my Friend, will see
+          That in sunny grassy meadows,
+          Trailed across by moving shadows,
+  To be actively receptive
+      Is as much as man can be.
+
+  He that all the winter grapples
+      Difficulties--thrust and ward--
+          Needs to cheer him thro' his duty
+          Memories of sun and beauty,
+  Orchards with the russet apples
+      Lying scattered on the sward.
+
+  Many such I keep in prison,
+      Keep them here at heart unseen,
+          Till my muse again rehearses
+          Long years hence, and in my verses
+  You shall meet them re-arisen,
+      Ever comely, ever green.
+
+  You know how they never perish,
+      How, in time of later art,
+          Memories consecrate and sweeten
+          Those defaced and tempest-beaten
+  Flowers of former years we cherish
+      Half a life, against our heart.
+
+  Most, those love-fruits withered greenly,
+      Those frail, sickly amourettes,--
+          How they brighten with the distance,
+          Take new strength and new existence,
+  Till we see them sitting queenly
+      Crowned and courted by regrets!
+
+  All that loveliest and best is,
+      Aureole-fashion round their head,
+          They that looked in life but plainly,
+          How they stir our spirits vainly
+  When they come to us, Alcestis--
+      Like returning from the dead!
+
+  Not the old love but another,
+      Bright she comes at memory's call,
+          Our forgotten vows reviving
+          To a newer, livelier living,
+  As the dead child to the mother
+      Seems the fairest child of all.
+
+  Thus our Goethe, sacred master,
+      Travelling backward thro' his youth,
+          Surely wandered wrong in trying
+          To renew the old, undying
+  Loves that cling in memory faster
+      Than they ever lived in truth.
+
+    BOULOGNE-SUR-MER, _September 1872_.
+
+
+II
+
+RONDELS
+
+    1
+
+  Far have you come, my lady, from the town,
+  And far from all your sorrows, if you please,
+  To smell the good sea-winds and hear the seas,
+  And in green meadows lay your body down.
+
+  To find your pale face grow from pale to brown,
+  Your sad eyes growing brighter by degrees;
+  Far have you come, my lady, from the town,
+  And far from all your sorrows, if you please.
+
+  Here in this seaboard land of old renown,
+  In meadow grass go wading to the knees;
+  Bathe your whole soul a while in simple ease;
+  There is no sorrow but the sea can drown;
+  Far have you come, my lady, from the town.
+
+    2
+
+    _Nous n'irons plus au bois_
+  We'll walk the woods no more,
+  But stay beside the fire,
+  To weep for old desire
+  And things that are no more.
+
+      The woods are spoiled and hoar,
+  The ways are full of mire;
+  We'll walk the woods no more,
+  But stay beside the fire.
+      We loved, in days of yore,
+  Love, laughter, and the lyre.
+  Ah God, but death is dire,
+  And death is at the door--
+  We'll walk the woods no more.
+
+    CH�TEAU RENARD, _August 1875_.
+
+    3
+
+  Since I am sworn to live my life
+  And not to keep an easy heart,
+  Some men may sit and drink apart,
+  I bear a banner in the strife.
+
+  Some can take quiet thought to wife,
+  I am all day at _tierce_ and _carte_,
+  Since I am sworn to live my life
+  And not to keep an easy heart.
+
+  I follow gaily to the fife,
+  Leave Wisdom bowed above a chart,
+  And Prudence brawing in the mart,
+  And dare Misfortune to the knife,
+  Since I am sworn to live my life.
+
+    4
+
+    OF HIS PITIABLE TRANSFORMATION
+
+  I who was young so long,
+    Young and alert and gay,
+    Now that my hair is grey,
+  Begin to change my song.
+
+  Now I know right from wrong,
+    Now I know _pay_ and _pray_,
+  I who was young so long,
+    Young and alert and gay.
+
+  Now I follow the throng,
+    Walk in the beaten way,
+    Hear what the elders say,
+  And own that I was wrong--
+  I who was young so long.
+
+    1876.
+
+
+III
+
+EPISTLE TO CHARLES BAXTER
+
+  Noo lyart leaves blaw ower the green,
+  Red are the bonny woods o' Dean,
+  An' here we're back in Embro, freen',
+      To pass the winter.
+  Whilk noo, wi' frosts afore, draws in,
+      An' snaws ahint her.
+
+  I've seen 's hae days to fricht us a',
+  The Pentlands poothered weel wi' snaw,
+  The ways half-smoored wi' liquid thaw,
+      An' half-congealin',
+  The snell an' scowtherin' norther blaw
+      Frae blae Brunteelan'.
+
+  I've seen 's been unco sweir to sally,
+  And at the door-cheeks daff an' dally,
+  Seen 's daidle thus an' shilly-shally
+      For near a minute--
+  Sae cauld the wind blew up the valley,
+      The deil was in it!--
+
+  Syne spread the silk an' tak the gate,
+  In blast an' blaudin', rain, deil hae 't!
+  The hale toon glintin', stane an' slate,
+      Wi' cauld an' weet,
+  An' to the Court, gin we 'se be late,
+      Bicker oor feet.
+
+  And at the Court, tae, aft I saw
+  Whaur Advocates by twa an' twa
+  Gang gesterin' end to end the ha'
+      In weeg an' goon,
+  To crack o' what ye wull but Law
+      The hale forenoon.
+
+  That muckle ha', maist like a kirk,
+  I've kent at braid mid-day sae mirk
+  Ye'd seen white weegs an' faces lurk
+      Like ghaists frae Hell,
+  But whether Christian ghaists or Turk,
+      Deil ane could tell.
+
+  The three fires lunted in the gloom,
+  The wind blew like the blast o' doom,
+  The rain upo' the roof abune
+      Played Peter Dick--
+  Ye wad nae'd licht enough i' the room
+      Your teeth to pick!
+
+  But, freend, ye ken how me an' you,
+  The ling-lang lanely winter through,
+  Keep'd a guid speerit up, an' true
+      To lore Horatian,
+  We aye the ither bottle drew
+      To inclination.
+
+  Sae let us in the comin' days
+  Stand sicker on our auncient ways--
+  The strauchtest road in a' the maze
+      Since Eve ate apples;
+  An' let the winter weet our cla'es--
+      We'll weet oor thrapples.
+
+    EDINBURGH, _October 1875_.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE SUSQUEHANNAH AND THE DELAWARE
+
+        Of where or how, I nothing know;
+           And why, I do not care;
+           Enough if, even so,
+        My travelling eyes, my travelling mind can go
+  By flood and field and hill, by wood and meadow fair,
+  Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.
+
+        I think, I hope, I dream no more
+           The dreams of otherwhere,
+           The cherished thoughts of yore;
+        I have been changed from what I was before;
+  And drunk too deep perchance the lotus of the air,
+  Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.
+
+        Unweary, God me yet shall bring
+           To lands of brighter air,
+           Where I, now half a king,
+        Shall with enfranchised spirit loudlier sing,
+  And wear a bolder front than that which now I wear
+  Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.
+
+    _August 1879._
+
+
+V
+
+EPISTLE TO ALBERT DEW-SMITH
+
+  Figure me to yourself, I pray--
+    A man of my peculiar cut--
+  Apart from dancing and deray,[1]
+    Into an Alpine valley shut;
+
+  Shut in a kind of damned Hotel,
+    Discountenanced by God and man;
+  The food?--Sir, you would do as well
+    To cram your belly full of bran.
+
+  The company? Alas, the day
+    That I should dwell with such a crew,
+  With devil anything to say,
+    Nor any one to say it to!
+
+  The place? Although they call it Platz,
+    I will be bold and state my view;
+  It's not a place at all--and that's
+    The bottom verity, my Dew.
+
+  There are, as I will not deny,
+    Innumerable inns; a road;
+  Several Alps indifferent high;
+    The snow's inviolable abode;
+
+  Eleven English parsons, all
+    Entirely inoffensive; four
+  True human beings--what I call
+    Human--the deuce a cipher more;
+
+  A climate of surprising worth;
+    Innumerable dogs that bark;
+  Some air, some weather, and some earth;
+    A native race--God save the mark!--
+
+  A race that works, yet cannot work,
+    Yodels, but cannot yodel right,
+  Such as, unhelp'd, with rusty dirk,
+    I vow that I could wholly smite.
+
+  A river that from morn to night
+    Down all the valley plays the fool;
+  Not once she pauses in her flight,
+    Nor knows the comfort of a pool;
+
+  But still keeps up, by straight or bend,
+    The selfsame pace she hath begun--
+  Still hurry, hurry, to the end--
+    Good God, is that the way to run?
+
+  If I a river were, I hope
+    That I should better realise
+  The opportunities and scope
+    Of that romantic enterprise.
+
+  I should not ape the merely strange,
+    But aim besides at the divine;
+  And continuity and change
+    I still should labour to combine.
+
+  Here should I gallop down the race,
+    Here charge the sterling[2] like a bull;
+  There, as a man might wipe his face,
+    Lie, pleased and panting, in a pool.
+
+  But what, my Dew, in idle mood,
+    What prate I, minding not my debt?
+  What do I talk of bad or good?
+    The best is still a cigarette.
+
+  Me whether evil fate assault,
+    Or smiling providences crown--
+  Whether on high the eternal vault
+    Be blue, or crash with thunder down--
+
+  I judge the best, whate'er befall,
+    Is still to sit on one's behind,
+  And, having duly moistened all,
+    Smoke with an unperturbed mind.
+
+    DAVOS, _November 1880_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+  [1] "The whole front of the house was lighted, and there were pipes
+    and fiddles, and as much dancing and deray within as used to be in
+    Sir Robert's house at Pace and Yule, and such high seasons."--See
+    "Wandering Willie's Tale" in "Redgauntlet," borrowed perhaps from
+    "Christ's Kirk of the Green."
+
+  [2] In architecture, a series of piles to defend the pier of a bridge.
+
+
+VI
+
+ALCAICS TO HORATIO F. BROWN
+
+  Brave lads in olden musical centuries,
+  Sang, night by night, adorable choruses,
+      Sat late by alehouse doors in April
+      Chaunting in joy as the moon was rising:
+
+  Moon-seen and merry, under the trellises,
+  Flush-faced they played with old polysyllables;
+      Spring scents inspired, old wine diluted;
+      Love and Apollo were there to chorus.
+
+  Now these, the songs, remain to eternity,
+  Those, only those, the bountiful choristers
+      Gone--those are gone, those unremembered
+      Sleep and are silent in earth for ever.
+
+  So man himself appears and evanishes,
+  So smiles and goes; as wanderers halting at
+      Some green-embowered house, play their music,
+      Play and are gone on the windy highway;
+
+  Yet dwells the strain enshrined in the memory
+  Long after they departed eternally,
+      Forth-faring tow'rd far mountain summits,
+      Cities of men on the sounding Ocean.
+
+  Youth sang the song in years immemorial;
+  Brave chanticleer, he sang and was beautiful;
+      Bird-haunted, green tree-tops in springtime
+      Heard and were pleased by the voice of singing;
+
+  Youth goes, and leaves behind him a prodigy--
+  Songs sent by thee afar from Venetian
+      Sea-grey lagunes, sea-paven highways,
+      Dear to me here in my Alpine exile.
+
+    DAVOS, _Spring 1881_.
+
+
+VII
+
+A LYTLE JAPE OF TUSHERIE
+
+  _By A. Tusher_
+
+  The pleasant river gushes
+    Among the meadows green;
+  At home the author tushes;
+    For him it flows unseen.
+
+  The Birds among the Bushes
+    May wanton on the spray;
+  But vain for him who tushes
+    The brightness of the day!
+
+  The frog among the rushes
+    Sits singing in the blue.
+  By 'r la'kin! but these tushes
+    Are wearisome to do!
+
+  The task entirely crushes
+    The spirit of the bard:
+  God pity him who tushes--
+    His task is very hard.
+
+  The filthy gutter slushes,
+    The clouds are full of rain,
+  But doomed is he who tushes
+    To tush and tush again.
+
+  At morn with his hair-brushes,
+    Still "tush" he says and weeps;
+  At night again he tushes,
+    And tushes till he sleeps.
+
+  And when at length he pushes
+    Beyond the river dark--
+  'Las, to the man who tushes,
+    "Tush" shall be God's remark!
+
+    HY�RES, _May 1883_.
+
+
+VIII
+
+TO VIRGIL AND DORA WILLIAMS
+
+  Here, from the forelands of the tideless sea,
+  Behold and take my offering unadorned.
+  In the Pacific air it sprang; it grew
+  Among the silence of the Alpine air;
+  In Scottish heather blossomed; and at last
+  By that unshapen sapphire, in whose face
+  Spain, Italy, France, Algiers, and Tunis view
+  Their introverted mountains, came to fruit.
+  Back now, my Booklet! on the diving ship,
+  And posting on the rails, to home return,--
+  Home, and the friends whose honouring name you bear.
+
+    HY�RES, 1883.
+
+
+IX
+
+BURLESQUE SONNET
+
+TO �NEAS WILLIAM MACKINTOSH
+
+  Thee, Mackintosh, artificer of light,
+      Thee, the lone smoker hails! the student, thee;
+      Thee, oft upon the ungovernable sea,
+  The seaman, conscious of approaching night;
+  Thou, with industrious fingers, hast outright
+      Mastered that art, of other arts the key,
+      That bids thick night before the morning flee,
+  And lingering day retains for mortal sight.
+  O Promethean workman, thee I hail,
+      Thee hallowed, thee unparalleled, thee bold
+      To affront the reign of sleep and darkness old,
+          Thee William, thee �neas, thee I sing;
+  Thee by the glimmering taper clear and pale,
+      Of light, and light's purveyance, hail, the king.
+
+
+X
+
+THE FINE PACIFIC ISLANDS
+
+(HEARD IN A PUBLIC-HOUSE AT ROTHERHITHE)
+
+  The jolly English Yellowboy
+    Is a 'ansome coin when new,
+  The Yankee Double-eagle
+    Is large enough for two.
+  O, these may do for seaport towns,
+    For cities these may do;
+  But the dibbs that takes the Hislands
+    Are the dollars of Peru:
+          O, the fine Pacific Hislands,
+          O, the dollars of Peru!
+
+  It's there we buy the cocoanuts
+    Mast 'eaded in the blue;
+  It's there we trap the lasses
+    All waiting for the crew;
+  It's there we buy the trader's rum
+    What bores a seaman through....
+  In the fine Pacific Hislands
+    With the dollars of Peru:
+          In the fine Pacific Hislands
+          With the dollars of Peru!
+
+  Now, messmates, when my watch is up,
+    And I am quite broached to,
+  I'll give a tip to 'Evving
+    Of the 'ansome thing to do:
+  Let 'em just refit this sailor-man
+    And launch him off anew
+  To cruise among the Hislands
+    With the dollars of Peru:
+          In the fine Pacific Hislands
+          With the dollars of Peru!
+
+    TAHITI, _August 1888_.
+
+
+XI
+
+AULD REEKIE
+
+  When chitterin' cauld the day sall daw,
+  Loud may your bonny bugles blaw
+      And loud your drums may beat.
+  Hie owre the land at evenfa'
+  Your lamps may glitter raw by raw,
+      Along the gowsty street.
+
+  I gang nae mair where ance I gaed,
+  By Brunston, Fairmileheid, or Braid;
+      But far frae Kirk and Tron.
+  O still ayont the muckle sea,
+  Still are ye dear, and dear to me,
+      Auld Reekie, still and on!
+
+
+XII
+
+THE LESSON OF THE MASTER
+
+TO HENRY JAMES
+
+  Adela, Adela, Adela Chart,
+  What have you done to my elderly heart?
+  Of all the ladies of paper and ink
+  I count you the paragon, call you the pink.
+  The word of your brother depicts you in part:
+  "You raving maniac!" Adela Chart;
+  But in all the asylums that cumber the ground,
+  So delightful a maniac was ne'er to be found.
+
+  I pore on you, dote on you, clasp you to heart,
+  I laud, love, and laugh at you, Adela Chart,
+  And thank my dear maker the while I admire
+  That I can be neither your husband nor sire.
+  Your husband's, your sire's, were a difficult part;
+  You're a byway to suicide, Adela Chart;
+  But to read of, depicted by exquisite James,
+  O, sure you're the flower and quintessence of dames.
+
+    VAILIMA, _October 1891_.
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE CONSECRATION OF BRAILLE
+
+TO MRS. A. BAKER
+
+  I was a barren tree before,
+    I blew a quench�d coal,
+  I could not, on their midnight shore,
+    The lonely blind console.
+
+  A moment, lend your hand, I bring
+    My sheaf for you to bind,
+  And you can teach my words to sing
+    In the darkness of the blind.
+
+    VAILIMA, _December 1893_.
+
+
+XIV
+
+SONG
+
+  Light foot and tight foot,
+    And green grass spread,
+  Early in the morning,
+    But hope is on ahead.
+
+  Brief day and bright day,
+    And sunset red,
+  Early in the evening,
+    The stars are overhead.
+
+
+
+
+                 PRINTED BY
+
+  CASSELL & CO., LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE
+
+                LONDON, E.C.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson -
+Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of the Works of Robert Louis Stevenson Volume XIV, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson -
+Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+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: The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25)
+
+Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+Other: Andrew Lang
+
+Release Date: December 12, 2009 [EBook #30659]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF R.L. STEVENSON V14 OF 25 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h4>THE WORKS OF</h4>
+
+<h3>ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</h3>
+
+<h4>SWANSTON EDITION</h4>
+
+<h5>VOLUME XIV</h5>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<p class="noind center"><i>Of this SWANSTON EDITION in Twenty-five<br />
+Volumes of the Works of ROBERT LOUIS<br />
+STEVENSON Two Thousand and Sixty Copies<br />
+have been printed, of which only Two Thousand<br />
+Copies are for sale.</i></p>
+
+<p class="noind center"><i>This is No. <span style="font-size: 60%;">............</span></i></p>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration">
+<tr>
+  <td class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/img01.jpg" width="520" height="800" alt="ALISON CUNNINGHAM, R. L. S'S NURSE." title="ALISON CUNNINGHAM, R. L. S'S NURSE." /></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="caption">ALISON CUNNINGHAM, R. L. S.&rsquo;S NURSE</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h3>THE WORKS OF</h3>
+<h2>ROBERT LOUIS</h2>
+<h2>STEVENSON</h2>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VOLUME FOURTEEN</h5>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h5>LONDON: PUBLISHED BY CHATTO AND<br />
+WINDUS: IN ASSOCIATION WITH CASSELL<br />
+AND COMPANY LIMITED: WILLIAM<br />
+HEINEMANN: AND LONGMANS GREEN<br />
+AND COMPANY MDCCCCXII</h5>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h6>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h6>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+
+<h5>A CHILD&rsquo;S GARDEN OF VERSES</h5>
+
+<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents">
+
+<tr style="font-size: 70%; "> <td class="tc2">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tc2">PAGE</td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3"><span class="sc">Bed in Summer</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In winter I get up at night</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2"><a href="#page3">3</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Thought</span><br />
+           <span class="con">It is very nice to think</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page3">3</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">At the Sea-side</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When I was down beside the sea</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page4">4</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Young Night Thought</span><br />
+           <span class="con">All night long, and every night</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page4">4</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Whole Duty of Children</span><br />
+           <span class="con">A child should always say what&rsquo;s true</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page5">5</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Rain</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The rain is raining all around</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page5">5</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Pirate Story</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page5">5</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Foreign Lands</span> <br />
+           <span class="con">Up into the cherry-tree</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page6">6</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Windy Nights</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Whenever the moon and stars are set</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page7">7</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">X.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Travel</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I should like to rise and go</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page7">7</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Singing</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Of speckled eggs the birdie sings</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page9">9</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Looking Forward</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When I am grown to man&rsquo;s estate</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page9">9</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Good Play</span><br />
+           <span class="con">We built a ship upon the stairs</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page9">9</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Where go the Boats?</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Dark brown is the river</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page10">10</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Auntie&rsquo;s Skirts</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Whenever Auntie moves around</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page11">11</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Land of Counterpane</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When I was sick and lay a-bed</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page11">11</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Land of Nod</span><br />
+           <span class="con">From breakfast on all through the day</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page12">12</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Shadow</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page12">12</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">System</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Every night my prayers I say</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page13">13</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Good Boy</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page14">14</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Escape at Bedtime</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page14">14</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Marching Song</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Bring the comb and play upon it</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page15">15</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Cow</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The friendly cow, all red and white</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page16">16</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Happy Thought</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The world is so full of a number of things</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page16">16</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Wind</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I saw you toss the kites on high</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page16">16</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Keepsake Mill</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Over the borders, a sin without pardon</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page17">17</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Good and Bad Children</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Children, you are very little</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page18">18</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Foreign Children</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Little Indian, Sioux or Crow</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page19">19</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Sun&rsquo;s Travels</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The sun is not a-bed when I</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page20">20</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Lamplighter</span><br />
+           <span class="con">My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page20">20</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Bed is a Boat</span><br />
+           <span class="con">My bed is like a little boat</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page21">21</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Moon</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The moon has a face like the clock in the hall</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page22">22</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Swing</span><br />
+           <span class="con">How do you like to go up in a swing</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page22">22</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Time to Rise</span><br />
+           <span class="con">A birdie with a yellow bill</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page23">23</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Looking-Glass River</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Smooth it slides upon its travel</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page23">23</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Fairy Bread</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Come up here, O dusty feet</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page24">24</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">From a Railway Carriage</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Faster than fairies, faster than witches</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page24">24</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Winter-Time</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Late lies the wintry sun a-bed</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page25">25</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Hayloft</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Through all the pleasant meadow-side</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page26">26</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XL.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Farewell to the Farm</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The coach is at the door at last</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page26">26</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XLI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">North-West Passage</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page27">27</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">&nbsp;</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc" style="padding-left: 0.5em;">1. Good Night</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When the bright lamp is carried in</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page27">27</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">&nbsp;</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc" style="padding-left: 0.5em;">2. Shadow March</span><br />
+           <span class="con">All round the house is the jet-black night</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page28">28</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">&nbsp;</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc" style="padding-left: 0.5em;">3. In Port</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Last, to the chamber where I lie</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page28">28</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>THE CHILD ALONE</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Unseen Playmate</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When children are playing alone on the green</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page31">31</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Ship and I</span><br />
+           <span class="con">O it&rsquo;s I that am the captain of a tidy little ship</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page32">32</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Kingdom</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Down by a shining water well</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page32">32</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Picture-Books in Winter</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Summer fading, winter comes</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page33">33</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Treasures</span><br />
+           <span class="con">These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page34">34</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Block City</span><br />
+           <span class="con">What are you able to build with your blocks</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page35">35</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Land of Story-Books</span><br />
+           <span class="con">At evening when the lamp is lit</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page36">36</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Armies in the Fire</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The lamps now glitter down the street</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page37">37</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Little Land</span><br />
+            <span class="con">When at home alone I sit</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page38">38</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>GARDEN DAYS</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Night and Day</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When the golden day is done</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page43">43</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Nest Eggs</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Birds all the sunny day</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page44">44</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Flowers</span><br />
+           <span class="con">All the names I know from nurse</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page46">46</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Summer Sun</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Great is the sun, and wide he goes</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page46">46</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Dumb Soldier</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When the grass was closely mown</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page47">47</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Autumn Fires</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In the other gardens</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page49">49</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Gardener</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The gardener does not love to talk</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page49">49</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Historical Associations</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page50">50</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>ENVOYS</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Willie and Henrietta</span><br />
+           <span class="con">If two may read aright</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page55">55</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To My Mother</span><br />
+           <span class="con">You too, my mother, read my rhymes</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page55">55</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Auntie</span><br />
+           <span class="con"><i>Chief of our aunts</i>&mdash;not only I</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page56">56</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Minnie</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The red room with the giant bed</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page56">56</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To my Name-Child</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page58">58</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To any Reader</span><br />
+           <span class="con">As from the house your mother sees</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page59">59</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h4>UNDERWOODS</h4></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="center" colspan="3"><h5>BOOK I: IN ENGLISH</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Envoy</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Go, little book, and wish to all</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page67">67</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Song of the Road</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The gauger walked with willing foot</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page67">67</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Canoe Speaks</span><br />
+           <span class="con">On the great streams the ships may go</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page68">68</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">It is the season now to go</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page70">70</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The House Beautiful</span><br />
+           <span class="con"><i>A naked house, a naked moor</i></span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page71">71</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Visit From The Sea</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Far from the loud sea beaches</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page72">72</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To a Gardener</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Friend, in my mountain-side demesne</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page73">73</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Minnie</span><br />
+           <span class="con">A picture-frame for you to fill</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page74">74</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To K. de M.</span><br />
+           <span class="con">A lover of the moorland bare</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page74">74</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">X.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To N. V. de G. S.</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page75">75</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Will. H. Low</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Youth now flees on feathered foot</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page76">76</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Mrs. Will. H. Low</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Even in the bluest noonday of July</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page77">77</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To H. F. Brown</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I sit and wait a pair of oars</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page78">78</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Andrew Lang</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page79">79</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Et tu in Arcadia vixisti (to r. a. m. s.)</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page80">80</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To W. E. Henley</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The year runs through her phases; rain and sun</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page82">82</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Henry James</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Who comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page83">83</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Mirror Speaks</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Where the bells peal far at sea</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page84">84</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Katharine</span><br />
+           <span class="con">We see you as we see a face</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page85">85</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To F. J. S.</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I read, dear friend, in your dear face</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page85">85</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Requiem</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Under the wide and starry sky</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page86">86</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Celestial Surgeon</span><br />
+          <span class="con">If I have faltered more or less</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page86">86</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Our Lady of the Snows</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Out of the sun, out of the blast</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page87">87</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Not yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page89">89</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">It is not yours, O mother, to complain</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page90">90</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Sick Child</span><br />
+           <span class="con">O mother, lay your hand on my brow</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page92">92</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">In Memoriam F. A. S.</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page93">93</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To my Father</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Peace and her huge invasion to these shores</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page93">93</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">In the States</span><br />
+           <span class="con">With half a heart I wander here</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page94">94</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Portrait</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I am a kind of farthing dip</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page95">95</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page96">96</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Camp</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The bed was made, the room was fit</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page96">96</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Country of the Camisards</span><br />
+           <span class="con">We travelled in the print of olden wars</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page96">96</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Skerryvore</span><br />
+           <span class="con">For love of lovely words, and for the sake</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page97">97</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Skerryvore: The Parallel</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Here all is sunny, and when the truant gull</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page97">97</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con"><i>My house</i>, I say. But hark to the sunny doves</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page98">98</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">My body which my dungeon is</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page98">98</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Say not of me that weakly I declined</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page99">99</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>BOOK II: IN SCOTS</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Maker to Posterity</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Far &rsquo;yont amang the years to be</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page105">105</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Ille Terrarum</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Frae nirly, nippin&rsquo;, Eas&rsquo;lan&rsquo; breeze</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page106">106</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">When aince Aprile has fairly come</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page109">109</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Mile an&rsquo; a Bittock </span><br />
+           <span class="con">A mile an&rsquo; a bittock, a mile or twa</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page110">110</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Lowden Sabbath Morn</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The clinkum-clank o&rsquo; Sabbath bells</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page111">111</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Spaewife</span><br />
+           <span class="con">O, I wad like to ken&mdash;to the beggar-wife says I</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page116">116</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Blast&mdash;1875</span><br />
+           <span class="con">It&rsquo;s rainin&rsquo;. Weet&rsquo;s the gairden sod</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page116">116</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Counterblast&mdash;1886</span><br />
+           <span class="con">My bonny man, the warld, it&rsquo;s true</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page118">118</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Counterblast Ironical</span><br />
+           <span class="con">It&rsquo;s strange that God should fash to frame</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page120">120</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">X.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Their Laureate to an Academy Class Dinner Club</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Dear Thamson class, whaure&rsquo;er I gang</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page121">121</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Embro Hie Kirk</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The Lord Himsel&rsquo; in former days</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page123">123</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Scotsman&rsquo;s Return from Abroad</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In mony a foreign pairt I&rsquo;ve been</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page125">125</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Late In the night in bed I lay</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page129">129</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Conscience!</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Of a&rsquo; the ills that flesh can fear</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page131">131</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Dr. John Brown</span><br />
+           <span class="con">By Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page133">133</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">It&rsquo;s an owercome sooth for age an&rsquo; youth</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page135">135</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h4>BALLADS</h4></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" colspan="3"><h5>THE SONG OF RAH�RO</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="center" colspan="3"><h6>A LEGEND OF TAHITI</h6></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Slaying of T�mat�a</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page139">139</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Venging Of T�mat�a</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page148">148</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Rah�ro</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page159">159</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>THE FEAST OF FAMINE</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="center" colspan="3"><h6>MARQUESAN MANNERS</h6></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Priest&rsquo;s Vigil</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page169">169</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Lovers</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page172">172</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Feast</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page176">176</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Raid</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page182">182</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>TICONDEROGA</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="center" colspan="3"><h6>A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS</h6></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Saying of the Name</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page189">189</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Seeking of the Name</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page194">194</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Place of the Name</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page196">196</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>HEATHER ALE</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="center" colspan="3"><h6>A GALLOWAY LEGEND</h6></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">&nbsp;</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="con">From the bonny bells of heather</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page201">201</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h5>CHRISTMAS AT SEA</h5></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">&nbsp;</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="con">The sheets were frozen hard</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page207">207</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc3p" colspan="2"><span class="sc">Notes to The Song of Rah�ro</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page211">211</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc3p" colspan="2"><span class="sc">Notes to The Feast of Famine</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page213">213</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc3p" colspan="2"><span class="sc">Notes to Ticonderoga</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page214">214</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc3p" colspan="2"><span class="sc">Note to Heather Ale</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page215">215</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h4>SONGS OF TRAVEL</h4></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Vagabond</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Give to me the life I love</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page219">219</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Youth and Love&mdash;I</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Once only by the garden gate</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page220">220</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Youth and Love&mdash;II</span><br />
+           <span class="con">To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page221">221</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page221">221</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">She rested by the Broken Brook</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page222">222</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">The infinite shining heavens</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page222">222</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Plain as the glistering planets shine</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page223">223</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">To you, let snow and roses</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page224">224</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page224">224</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">X.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">I know not how it is with you</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page225">225</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">I will make you brooches and toys for your delight</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page225">225</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">We have loved of Yore</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Berried brake and reedy island</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page226">226</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Mater Triumphans</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Son of my woman&rsquo;s body, you go, to the drum and fife</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page227">227</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Bright is the ring of words</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page227">227</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">In the highlands, in the country places</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page228">228</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Home no more home to me, whither must I wander</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page229">229</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Winter</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page230">230</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">The stormy evening closes now in vain</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page230">230</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Dr. Hake</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In the beloved hour that ushers day</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page231">231</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To &mdash;&mdash;</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page232">232</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">The morning drum-call on my eager ear</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page233">233</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">I have trod the upward and the downward slope</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page233">233</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">He hears with gladdened heart the thunder</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page233">233</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Farewell, fair day and fading light</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page233">233</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">If this were Faith</span><br />
+           <span class="con">God, if this were enough</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page234">234</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">My Wife</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Trusty, dusky, vivid, true</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page235">235</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To the Muse</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Resign the rhapsody, the dream</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page236">236</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To an Island Princess</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Since long ago, a child at home</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page237">237</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Kalakaua</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The Silver Ship, my King&mdash;that was her name</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page238">238</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Princess Kaiulani</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Forth from her land to mine she goes</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page239">239</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Mother Maryanne</span><br />
+           <span class="con">To see the infinite pity of this place</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page240">240</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">In Memoriam E. H.</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page240">240</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To my Wife</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Long must elapse ere you behold again</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page241">241</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To my old Familiars</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Do you remember&mdash;can we e&rsquo;er forget</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page242">242</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">The tropics vanish, and meseems that I</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page243">243</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To S. C.</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I heard the pulse of the besieging sea</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page244">244</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The House of Tembinoka</span><br />
+           <span class="con"><i>Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards</i></span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page245">245</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXVIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Woodman</span><br />
+           <span class="con">In all the grove, nor stream nor bird</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page249">249</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XXXIX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Tropic Rain</span><br />
+           <span class="con">As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page254">254</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XL.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">An End of Travel</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Let now your soul in this substantial world</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page255">255</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XLI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">We uncommiserate pass into the night</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page255">255</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XLII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><br />
+           <span class="con">Sing me a song of a lad that is gone</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page256">256</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XLIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To S. R. Crockett</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page257">257</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XLIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Evensong</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The embers of the day are red</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page257">257</a></td> </tr>
+
+
+
+<tr> <td class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;" colspan="3"><h4>ADDITIONAL POEMS</h4></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">I.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Familiar Epistle</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Blame me not that this epistle</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page261">261</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">II.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Rondels</span><br />
+           <span class="con">1. Far have you come, my lady, from the town</span><br />
+           <span class="con">2. Nous n&rsquo;irons plus au bois</span><br />
+           <span class="con">3. Since I am sworn to live my life</span><br />
+           <span class="con">4. Of his pitiable transformation</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page263">263</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">III.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Epistle to Charles Baxter</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Noo lyart leaves blaw ower the green</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page265">265</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Susquehannah and the Delaware</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Of where or how, I nothing know</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page267">267</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">V.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Epistle to Albert Dew-Smith</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Figure me to yourself, I pray</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page268">268</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Alcaics to Horatio F. Brown</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Brave lads in olden musical centuries</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page270">270</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">A Lytle Jape of Tusherie</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The pleasant river gushes</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page272">272</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">VIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">To Virgil and Dora Williams</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Here, from the forelands of the tideless sea</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page273">273</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">IX.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Burlesque Sonnet</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Thee, Mackintosh, artificer of light</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page273">273</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">X.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Fine Pacific Islands</span><br />
+           <span class="con">The jolly English Yellowboy</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page274">274</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XI.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Auld Reekie</span><br />
+           <span class="con">When chitterin&rsquo; cauld the day sall daw</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page275">275</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Lesson of the Master</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Adela, Adela, Adela Chart</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page276">276</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIII.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">The Consecration of Braille</span><br />
+           <span class="con">I was a barren tree before</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page276">276</a></td> </tr>
+
+<tr> <td class="tc2p">XIV.</td>
+     <td class="tc3p"><span class="sc">Song</span><br />
+           <span class="con">Light foot and tight foot</span></td>
+     <td class="tc2p"><a href="#page277">277</a></td> </tr>
+</table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1"></a>1</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>A CHILD&rsquo;S</h2>
+<h2>GARDEN OF VERSES</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2"></a>2</span></p>
+<h5><i>TO</i></h5>
+
+<h4><i>ALISON CUNNINGHAM</i></h4>
+
+<h5><i>FROM HER BOY</i></h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+<p><i>For the long nights you lay awake</i></p>
+<p><i>And watched for my unworthy sake:</i></p>
+<p><i>For your most comfortable hand</i></p>
+<p><i>That led me through the uneven land:</i></p>
+<p><i>For all the story-books you read:</i></p>
+<p><i>For all the pains you comforted:</i></p>
+<p><i>For all you pitied, all you bore,</i></p>
+<p><i>In sad and happy days of yore:&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>My second Mother, my first Wife,</i></p>
+<p><i>The angel of my infant life&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>From the sick child, now well and old,</i></p>
+<p><i>Take, nurse, the little book you hold!</i></p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>And grant it, Heaven, that all who read</i></p>
+<p><i>May find as dear a nurse at need,</i></p>
+<p><i>And every child who lists my rhyme,</i></p>
+<p><i>In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,</i></p>
+<p><i>May hear it in as kind a voice</i></p>
+<p><i>As made my childish days rejoice!</i></p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p class="sign"><i>R. L. S.</i></p>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3"></a>3</span></p>
+
+<h2>A CHILD&rsquo;S</h2>
+<h2>GARDEN OF VERSES</h2>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>BED IN SUMMER</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> winter I get up at night</p>
+<p>And dress by yellow candle-light.</p>
+<p>In summer, quite the other way,&mdash;</p>
+<p>I have to go to bed by day.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I have to go to bed and see</p>
+<p>The birds still hopping on the tree,</p>
+<p>Or hear the grown-up people&rsquo;s feet</p>
+<p>Still going past me in the street.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And does it not seem hard to you,</p>
+<p>When all the sky is clear and blue,</p>
+<p>And I should like so much to play,</p>
+<p class="last">To have to go to bed by day?</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>A THOUGHT</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+<p><span class="sc">It</span> is very nice to think</p>
+<p>The world is full of meat and drink,</p>
+<p>With little children saying grace</p>
+<p class="last">In every Christian kind of place.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4"></a>4</span></p>
+
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>AT THE SEA-SIDE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> I was down beside the sea,</p>
+<p>A wooden spade they gave to me</p>
+<p class="i1">To dig the sandy shore.</p>
+<p>My holes were empty like a cup,</p>
+<p>In every hole the sea came up,</p>
+<p class="i1 last">Till it could come no more.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">All</span> night long, and every night,</p>
+<p>When my mamma puts out the light,</p>
+<p>I see the people marching by,</p>
+<p>As plain as day, before my eye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Armies and emperors and kings,</p>
+<p>All carrying different kinds of things,</p>
+<p>And marching in so grand a way,</p>
+<p>You never saw the like by day.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So fine a show was never seen</p>
+<p>At the great circus on the green;</p>
+<p>For every kind of beast and man</p>
+<p>Is marching in that caravan.</p>
+
+<p class="s">At first they move a little slow,</p>
+<p>But still the faster on they go,</p>
+<p>And still beside them close I keep</p>
+<p class="last">Until we reach the town of Sleep.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5"></a>5</span></p>
+
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">A child</span> should always say what&rsquo;s true,</p>
+<p>And speak when he is spoken to,</p>
+<p>And behave mannerly at table:</p>
+<p class="last">At least as far as he is able.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>RAIN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> rain is raining all around,</p>
+<p class= "i1">It falls on field and tree,</p>
+<p>It rains on the umbrellas here,</p>
+<p class= "i1 last">And on the ships at sea.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<h3>PIRATE STORY</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Three</span> of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea.</p>
+<p>Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Where shall we adventure, to-day that we&rsquo;re afloat,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Wary of the weather, and steering by a star?</p>
+<p>Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,</p>
+  <p class="i1">To Providence, or Babylon, or off to Malabar?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page6"></a>6</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Hi! but here&rsquo;s a squadron a-rowing on the sea&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar!</p>
+<p>Quick, and we&rsquo;ll escape them, they&rsquo;re as mad as they can be,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<h3>FOREIGN LANDS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Up</span> into the cherry-tree</p>
+<p>Who should climb but little me?</p>
+<p>I held the trunk with both my hands</p>
+<p>And looked abroad on foreign lands.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I saw the next-door garden lie,</p>
+<p>Adorned with flowers, before my eye,</p>
+<p>And many pleasant places more</p>
+<p>That I had never seen before.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I saw the dimpling river pass</p>
+<p>And be the sky&rsquo;s blue looking-glass;</p>
+<p>The dusty roads go up and down</p>
+<p>With people tramping in to town.</p>
+
+<p class="s">If I could find a higher tree,</p>
+<p>Farther and farther I should see</p>
+<p>To where the grown-up river slips</p>
+<p>Into the sea among the ships,</p>
+
+<p class="s">To where the roads on either hand</p>
+<p>Lead onward into fairy-land,</p>
+<p>Where all the children dine at five,</p>
+<p>And all the playthings come alive.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page7"></a>7</span></p>
+<h5>IX</h5>
+
+<h3>WINDY NIGHTS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Whenever</span> the moon and stars are set,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Whenever the wind is high,</p>
+<p>All night long in the dark and wet,</p>
+  <p class="i1">A man goes riding by.</p>
+<p>Late in the night when the fires are out,</p>
+<p>Why does he gallop and gallop about?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Whenever the trees are crying aloud,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And ships are tossed at sea,</p>
+<p>By, on the highway, low and loud,</p>
+  <p class="i1">By at the gallop goes he.</p>
+<p>By at the gallop he goes, and then</p>
+<p>By he comes back at the gallop again.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>X</h5>
+
+<h3>TRAVEL</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I should</span> like to rise and go</p>
+<p>Where the golden apples grow;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where below another sky</p>
+<p>Parrot islands anchored lie,</p>
+<p>And, watched by cockatoos and goats,</p>
+<p>Lonely Crusoes building boats;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where in sunshine reaching out</p>
+<p>Eastern cities, miles about,</p>
+<p>Are with mosque and minaret</p>
+<p>Among sandy gardens set,</p>
+<p>And the rich goods from near and far</p>
+<p>Hang for sale in the bazaar;&mdash;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page8"></a>8</span></p>
+<p>Where the Great Wall round China goes,</p>
+<p>And on one side the desert blows,</p>
+<p>And with bell and voice and drum,</p>
+<p>Cities on the other hum;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where are forests, hot as fire,</p>
+<p>Wide as England, tall as a spire,</p>
+<p>Full of apes and cocoa-nuts</p>
+<p>And the negro hunters&rsquo; huts;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where the knotty crocodile</p>
+<p>Lies and blinks in the Nile,</p>
+<p>And the red flamingo flies</p>
+<p>Hunting fish before his eyes;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where in jungles, near and far,</p>
+<p>Man-devouring tigers are,</p>
+<p>Lying close and giving ear</p>
+<p>Lest the hunt be drawing near,</p>
+<p>Or a comer-by be seen</p>
+<p>Swinging in a palanquin;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where among the desert sands</p>
+<p>Some deserted city stands,</p>
+<p>All its children, sweep and prince,</p>
+<p>Grown to manhood ages since,</p>
+<p>Not a foot in street or house,</p>
+<p>Nor a stir of child or mouse,</p>
+<p>And when kindly falls the night,</p>
+<p>In all the town no spark of light.</p>
+<p>There I&rsquo;ll come when I&rsquo;m a man</p>
+<p>With a camel caravan;</p>
+<p>Light a fire in the gloom</p>
+<p>Of some dusty dining-room;</p>
+<p>See the pictures on the walls,</p>
+<p>Heroes, fights, and festivals;</p>
+<p>And in a corner find the toys</p>
+<p>Of the old Egyptian boys.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page9"></a>9</span></p>
+<h5>XI</h5>
+
+<h3>SINGING</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Of</span> speckled eggs the birdie sings</p>
+  <p class="i1">And nests among the trees;</p>
+<p>The sailor sings of ropes and things</p>
+  <p class="i1">In ships upon the seas.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The children sing in far Japan,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The children sing in Spain;</p>
+<p>The organ with the organ man</p>
+  <p class="i1">Is singing in the rain.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XII</h5>
+
+<h3>LOOKING FORWARD</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> I am grown to man&rsquo;s estate</p>
+<p>I shall be very proud and great,</p>
+<p>And tell the other girls and boys</p>
+<p>Not to meddle with my toys.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIII</h5>
+
+<h3>A GOOD PLAY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">We</span> built a ship upon the stairs</p>
+<p>All made of the back-bedroom chairs</p>
+<p>And filled it full of sofa pillows</p>
+<p>To go a-sailing on the billows.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page10"></a>10</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">We took a saw and several nails,</p>
+<p>And water in the nursery pails;</p>
+<p>And Tom said, &ldquo;Let us also take</p>
+<p>An apple and a slice of cake&rdquo;;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Which was enough for Tom and me</p>
+<p>To go a-sailing on, till tea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">We sailed along for days and days,</p>
+<p>And had the very best of plays;</p>
+<p>But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,</p>
+<p>So there was no one left but me.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIV</h5>
+
+<h3>WHERE GO THE BOATS?</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dark</span> brown is the river,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Golden is the sand.</p>
+<p>It flows along for ever,</p>
+  <p class="i1">With trees on either hand.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Green leaves a-floating,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Castles of the foam,</p>
+<p>Boats of mine a-boating&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Where will all come home?</p>
+
+<p class="s">On goes the river,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And out past the mill,</p>
+<p>Away down the valley,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Away down the hill.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Away down the river,</p>
+  <p class="i1">A hundred miles or more,</p>
+<p>Other little children</p>
+  <p class="i1">Shall bring my boats ashore.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page11"></a>11</span></p>
+<h5>XV</h5>
+
+<h3>AUNTIE&rsquo;S SKIRTS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Whenever</span> Auntie moves around,</p>
+<p>Her dresses make a curious sound;</p>
+<p>They trail behind her up the floor,</p>
+<p>And trundle after through the door.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVI</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> I was sick and lay a-bed,</p>
+<p>I had two pillows at my head,</p>
+<p>And all my toys beside me lay</p>
+<p>To keep me happy all the day.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And sometimes for an hour or so</p>
+<p>I watched my leaden soldiers go,</p>
+<p>With different uniforms and drills,</p>
+<p>Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;</p>
+
+<p class="s">And sometimes sent my ships in fleets</p>
+<p>All up and down among the sheets;</p>
+<p>Or brought my trees and houses out,</p>
+<p>And planted cities all about.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I was the giant great and still</p>
+<p>That sits upon the pillow-hill,</p>
+<p>And sees before him, dale and plain,</p>
+<p>The pleasant land of counterpane.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page12"></a>12</span></p>
+<h5>XVII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LAND OF NOD</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">From</span> breakfast on all through the day</p>
+<p>At home among my friends I stay;</p>
+<p>But every night I go abroad</p>
+<p>Afar into the land of Nod.</p>
+
+<p class="s">All by myself I have to go,</p>
+<p>With none to tell me what to do&mdash;</p>
+<p>All alone beside the streams</p>
+<p>And up the mountain-sides of dreams.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The strangest things are there for me,</p>
+<p>Both things to eat and things to see,</p>
+<p>And many frightening sights abroad</p>
+<p>Till morning in the land of Nod.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Try as I like to find the way,</p>
+<p>I never can get back by day,</p>
+<p>Nor can remember plain and clear</p>
+<p>The curious music that I hear.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVIII</h5>
+
+<h3>MY SHADOW</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p class="s"><span class="sc">I have</span> a little shadow that goes in and out with me,</p>
+<p>And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.</p>
+<p>He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;</p>
+<p>And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page13"></a>13</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow&mdash;</p>
+<p>Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;</p>
+<p>For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,</p>
+<p>And he sometimes gets so little that there&rsquo;s none of him at all.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He hasn&rsquo;t got a notion of how children ought to play,</p>
+<p>And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.</p>
+<p>He stays so close beside me, he&rsquo;s a coward you can see;</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!</p>
+
+<p class="s">One morning, very early, before the sun was up,</p>
+<p>I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;</p>
+<p>But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,</p>
+<p>Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIX</h5>
+
+<h3>SYSTEM</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Every</span> night my prayers I say,</p>
+<p>And get my dinner every day;</p>
+<p>And every day that I&rsquo;ve been good,</p>
+<p>I get an orange after food.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The child that is not clean and neat,</p>
+<p>With lots of toys and things to eat,</p>
+<p>He is a naughty child, I&rsquo;m sure&mdash;</p>
+<p>Or else his dear papa is poor.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page14"></a>14</span></p>
+<h5>XX</h5>
+
+<h3>A GOOD BOY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I woke</span> before the morning, I was happy all the day,</p>
+<p>I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,</p>
+<p>And I am very happy, for I know that I&rsquo;ve been good.</p>
+
+<p class="s">My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,</p>
+<p>And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,</p>
+<p>No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes,</p>
+
+<p class="s">But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,</p>
+<p>And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXI</h5>
+
+<h3>ESCAPE AT BEDTIME</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out</p>
+  <p class="i1">Through the blinds and the windows and bars;</p>
+<p>And high overhead and all moving about,</p>
+  <p class="i1">There were thousands of millions of stars.</p>
+<p>There ne&rsquo;er were such thousands of leaves on a tree,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor of people in church or the Park,</p>
+<p>As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And that glittered and winked in the dark.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page15"></a>15</span></p>
+<p>The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the star of the sailor, and Mars,</p>
+<p>These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall</p>
+  <p class="i1">Would be half full of water and stars.</p>
+<p>They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And they soon had me packed into bed;</p>
+<p>But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the stars going round in my head.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXII</h5>
+
+<h3>MARCHING SONG</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Bring</span> the comb and play upon it!</p>
+  <p class="i1">Marching, here we come!</p>
+<p>Willie cocks his Highland bonnet,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Johnnie beats the drum.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Mary Jane commands the party,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Peter leads the rear;</p>
+<p>Feet in time, alert and hearty,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Each a Grenadier!</p>
+
+<p class="s">All in the most martial manner</p>
+  <p class="i1">Marching double-quick;</p>
+<p>While the napkin like a banner</p>
+  <p class="i1">Waves upon the stick!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here&rsquo;s enough of fame and pillage,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Great commander Jane!</p>
+<p>Now that we&rsquo;ve been round the village,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Let&rsquo;s go home again.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page16"></a>16</span></p>
+<h5>XXIII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE COW</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> friendly cow, all red and white,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I love with all my heart:</p>
+<p>She gives me cream with all her might,</p>
+  <p class="i1">To eat with apple-tart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">She wanders lowing here and there,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And yet she cannot stray,</p>
+<p>All in the pleasant open air,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The pleasant light of day;</p>
+
+<p class="s">And blown by all the winds that pass,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And wet with all the showers,</p>
+<p>She walks among the meadow grass</p>
+  <p class="i1">And eats the meadow flowers.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIV</h5>
+
+<h3>HAPPY THOUGHT</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> world is so full of a number of things,</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;m sure we should all be as happy as kings.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXV</h5>
+
+<h3>THE WIND</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I saw</span> you toss the kites on high</p>
+<p>And blow the birds about the sky;</p>
+<p>And all around I heard you pass,</p>
+<p>Like ladies&rsquo; skirts across the grass&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">O wind, a-blowing all day long,</p>
+    <p class="i2">O wind, that sings so loud a song!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page17"></a>17</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I saw the different things you did,</p>
+<p>But always you yourself you hid.</p>
+<p>I felt you push, I heard you call,</p>
+<p>I could not see yourself at all&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">O wind, a-blowing all day long,</p>
+    <p class="i2">O wind, that sings so loud a song!</p>
+
+<p class="s">O you that are so strong and cold,</p>
+<p>O blower, are you young or old?</p>
+<p>Are you a beast of field and tree,</p>
+<p>Or just a stronger child than me?</p>
+    <p class="i2">O wind, a-blowing all day long,</p>
+    <p class="i2">O wind, that sings so loud a song!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVI</h5>
+
+<h3>KEEPSAKE MILL</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Over</span> the borders, a sin without pardon,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Breaking the branches and crawling below,</p>
+<p>Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Down by the banks of the river, we go.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,</p>
+<p>Here is the sluice with the race running under&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Marvellous places, though handy to home!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;</p>
+<p>Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page18"></a>18</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Years may go by, and the wheel in the river,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,</p>
+<p>Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Long after all of the boys are away.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Home from the Indies, and home from the ocean,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;</p>
+<p>Still we shall find the old mill-wheel in motion,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Turning and churning that river to foam.</p>
+
+<p class="s">You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I with your marble of Saturday last,</p>
+<p>Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Here we shall meet and remember the past.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVII</h5>
+
+<h3>GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Children</span>, you are very little,</p>
+<p>And your bones are very brittle;</p>
+<p>If you would grow great and stately,</p>
+<p>You must try to walk sedately.</p>
+
+<p class="s">You must still be bright and quiet,</p>
+<p>And content with simple diet;</p>
+<p>And remain, through all bewild&rsquo;ring,</p>
+<p>Innocent and honest children.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Happy hearts and happy faces,</p>
+<p>Happy play in grassy places&mdash;</p>
+<p>That was how, in ancient ages,</p>
+<p>Children grew to kings and sages.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page19"></a>19</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">But the unkind and the unruly,</p>
+<p>And the sort who eat unduly,</p>
+<p>They must never hope for glory&mdash;</p>
+<p>Theirs is quite a different story!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Cruel children, crying babies,</p>
+<p>All grow up as geese and gabies,</p>
+<p>Hated, as their age increases,</p>
+<p>By their nephews and their nieces.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVIII</h5>
+
+<h3>FOREIGN CHILDREN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+  <p class="i1"><span class="sc">Little</span> Indian, Sioux or Crow,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Little frosty Eskimo,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Little Turk or Japanee,</p>
+<p>O! don&rsquo;t you wish that you were me?</p>
+
+<p class="s">You have seen the scarlet trees</p>
+<p>And the lions over seas;</p>
+<p>You have eaten ostrich eggs,</p>
+<p>And turned the turtles off their legs.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Such a life is very fine,</p>
+<p>But it&rsquo;s not so nice as mine;</p>
+<p>You must often, as you trod,</p>
+<p>Have wearied <i>not</i> to be abroad.</p>
+
+<p class="s">You have curious things to eat,</p>
+<p>I am fed on proper meat;</p>
+<p>You must dwell beyond the foam,</p>
+<p>But I am safe and live at home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20"></a>20</span></p>
+
+<p class="s i1">Little Indian, Sioux or Crow</p>
+  <p class="i1">Little frosty Eskimo,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Little Turk or Japanee,</p>
+<p>O! don&rsquo;t you wish that you were me?</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIX</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SUN&rsquo;S TRAVELS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> sun is not a-bed when I</p>
+<p>At night upon my pillow lie;</p>
+<p>Still round the earth his way he takes,</p>
+<p>And morning after morning makes.</p>
+
+<p class="s">While here at home, in shining day,</p>
+<p>We round the sunny garden play,</p>
+<p>Each little Indian sleepy-head</p>
+<p>Is being kissed and put to bed.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And when at eve I rise from tea,</p>
+<p>Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea,</p>
+<p>And all the children in the West</p>
+<p>Are getting up and being dressed.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXX</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LAMPLIGHTER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">My</span> tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s time to take the window to see Leerie going by;</p>
+<p>For every night at tea-time and before you take your seat,</p>
+<p>With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21"></a>21</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,</p>
+<p>And my papa&rsquo;s a banker and as rich as he can be;</p>
+<p>But I, when I am stronger, and can choose what I&rsquo;m to do,</p>
+<p>O Leerie, I&rsquo;ll go round at night and light the lamps with you!</p>
+
+<p class="s">For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,</p>
+<p>And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;</p>
+<p>And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light,</p>
+<p>O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXI</h5>
+
+<h3>MY BED IS A BOAT</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">My</span> bed is like a little boat;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nurse helps me in when I embark;</p>
+<p>She girds me in my sailor&rsquo;s coat</p>
+  <p class="i1">And starts me in the dark.</p>
+
+<p class="s">At night, I go on board and say</p>
+  <p class="i1">Good-night to all my friends on shore;</p>
+<p>I shut my eyes and sail away</p>
+  <p class="i1">And see and hear no more.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And sometimes things to bed I take,</p>
+  <p class="i1">As prudent sailors have to do:</p>
+<p>Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Perhaps a toy or two.</p>
+
+<p class="s">All night across the dark we steer:</p>
+  <p class="i1">But when the day returns at last,</p>
+<p>Safe in my room, beside the pier,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I find my vessel fast.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page22"></a>22</span></p>
+<h5>XXXII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE MOON</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> moon has a face like the clock in the hall;</p>
+<p>She shines on thieves on the garden wall,</p>
+<p>On streets and fields and harbour quays,</p>
+<p>And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,</p>
+<p>The howling dog by the door of the house,</p>
+<p>The bat that lies in bed at noon,</p>
+<p>All love to be out by the light of the moon.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But all of the things that belong to the day</p>
+<p>Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;</p>
+<p>And flowers and children close their eyes</p>
+<p>Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXIII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SWING</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">How</span> do you like to go up in a swing,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Up in the air so blue?</p>
+<p>Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing</p>
+  <p class="i1">Ever a child can do!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Up in the air and over the wall,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Till I can see so wide,</p>
+<p>Rivers and trees and cattle and all</p>
+  <p class="i1">Over the countryside&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Till I look down on the garden green,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Down on the roof so brown&mdash;</p>
+<p>Up in the air I go flying again,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Up in the air and down!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page23"></a>23</span></p>
+<h5>XXXIV</h5>
+
+<h3>TIME TO RISE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">A birdie</span> with a yellow bill</p>
+<p>Hopped upon the window sill,</p>
+<p>Cocked his shining eye and said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t you &rsquo;shamed, you sleepy-head?&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXV</h5>
+
+<h3>LOOKING-GLASS RIVER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Smooth</span> it slides upon its travel,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Here a wimple, there a gleam&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i3">O the clean gravel!</p>
+    <p class="i3">O the smooth stream!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Paven pools as clear as air&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i3">How a child wishes</p>
+    <p class="i3">To live down there!</p>
+
+<p class="s">We can see our coloured faces</p>
+  <p class="i1">Floating on the shaken pool</p>
+    <p class="i3">Down in cool places,</p>
+    <p class="i3">Dim and very cool;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Till a wind or water wrinkle,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Dipping marten, plumping trout,</p>
+    <p class="i3">Spreads in a twinkle</p>
+    <p class="i3">And blots all out.</p>
+
+<p class="s">See the rings pursue each other;</p>
+  <p class="i1">All below grows black as night,</p>
+    <p class="i3">Just as if mother</p>
+    <p class="i3">Had blown out the light!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page24"></a>24</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Patience, children, just a minute&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">See the spreading circles die;</p>
+        <p class="i3">The stream and all in it</p>
+        <p class="i3">Will clear by-and-by.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVI</h5>
+
+<h3>FAIRY BREAD</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Come</span> up here, O dusty feet!</p>
+<p>Here is fairy bread to eat.</p>
+<p>Here in my retiring room,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Children, you may dine</p>
+<p>On the golden smell of broom</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the shade of pine;</p>
+<p>And when you have eaten well,</p>
+<p>Fairy stories hear and tell.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVII</h5>
+
+<h3>FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Faster</span> than fairies, faster than witches,</p>
+<p>Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;</p>
+<p>And charging along like troops in a battle,</p>
+<p>All through the meadows the horses and cattle:</p>
+<p>All of the sights of the hill and the plain</p>
+<p>Fly as thick as driving rain;</p>
+<p>And ever again, in the wink of an eye,</p>
+<p>Painted stations whistle by.</p>
+<p>Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,</p>
+<p>All by himself and gathering brambles;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25"></a>25</span></p>
+<p>Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;</p>
+<p>And there is the green for stringing the daisies!</p>
+<p>Here is a cart run away in the road</p>
+<p>Lumping along with man and load;</p>
+<p>And here is a mill, and there is a river:</p>
+<p>Each a glimpse and gone for ever!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVIII</h5>
+
+<h3>WINTER-TIME</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Late</span> lies the wintry sun a-bed,</p>
+<p>A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;</p>
+<p>Blinks but an hour or two; and then,</p>
+<p>A blood-red orange, sets again.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Before the stars have left the skies,</p>
+<p>At morning in the dark I rise;</p>
+<p>And shivering in my nakedness,</p>
+<p>By the cold candle, bathe and dress.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Close by the jolly fire I sit</p>
+<p>To warm my frozen bones a bit;</p>
+<p>Or with a reindeer-sled explore</p>
+<p>The colder countries round the door.</p>
+
+<p class="s">When, to go out, my nurse doth wrap</p>
+<p>Me in my comforter and cap,</p>
+<p>The cold wind burns my face, and blows</p>
+<p>Its frosty pepper up my nose.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Black are my steps on silver sod;</p>
+<p>Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;</p>
+<p>And tree and house, and hill and lake,</p>
+<p>Are frosted like a wedding-cake.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page26"></a>26</span></p>
+<h5>XXXIX</h5>
+
+<h3>THE HAYLOFT</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Through</span> all the pleasant meadow-side</p>
+  <p class="i1">The grass grew shoulder-high,</p>
+<p>Till the shining scythes went far and wide</p>
+  <p class="i1">And cut it down to dry.</p>
+
+<p class="s">These green and sweetly smelling crops</p>
+  <p class="i1">They led in waggons home;</p>
+<p>And they piled them here in mountain tops</p>
+  <p class="i1">For mountaineers to roam.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Mount Eagle and Mount High;&mdash;</p>
+<p>The mice that in these mountains dwell</p>
+  <p class="i1">No happier are than I!</p>
+
+<p class="s">O what a joy to clamber there,</p>
+  <p class="i1">O what a place for play,</p>
+<p>With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The happy hills of hay.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XL</h5>
+
+<h3>FAREWELL TO THE FARM</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> coach is at the door at last;</p>
+<p>The eager children, mounting fast</p>
+<p>And kissing hands, in chorus sing:</p>
+<p>Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page27"></a>27</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">To house and garden, field and lawn,</p>
+<p>The meadow-gates we swang upon,</p>
+<p>To pump and stable, tree and swing,</p>
+<p>Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!</p>
+
+<p class="s">And fare you well for evermore,</p>
+<p>O ladder at the hayloft door,</p>
+<p>O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,</p>
+<p>Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Crack goes the whip, and off we go;</p>
+<p>The trees and houses smaller grow;</p>
+<p>Last, round the woody turn we swing:</p>
+<p>Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XLI</h5>
+
+<h3>NORTH-WEST PASSAGE</h3>
+
+
+<h5>I. GOOD NIGHT</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> the bright lamp is carried in,</p>
+<p>The sunless hours again begin;</p>
+<p>O&rsquo;er all without, in field and lane,</p>
+<p>The haunted night returns again.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now we behold the embers flee</p>
+<p>About the firelit hearth; and see</p>
+<p>Our faces painted as we pass,</p>
+<p>Like pictures, on the window-glass.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Must we to bed indeed? Well then,</p>
+<p>Let us arise and go like men,</p>
+<p>And face with an undaunted tread</p>
+<p>The long black passage up to bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page28"></a>28</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Farewell, O brother, sister, sire!</p>
+<p>O pleasant party round the fire!</p>
+<p>The songs you sing, the tales you tell,</p>
+<p>Till far to-morrow, fare ye well!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>2. SHADOW MARCH</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p>All round the house is the jet-black night;</p>
+  <p class="i1">It stares through the window-pane;</p>
+<p>It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And it moves with the moving flame.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,</p>
+  <p class="i1">With the breath of the Bogie in my hair;</p>
+<p>And all round the candle the crooked shadows come</p>
+  <p class="i1">And go marching along up the stair.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The shadow of the child that goes to bed&mdash;</p>
+<p>All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp,</p>
+  <p class="i1">With the black night overhead.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>3. IN PORT</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p>Last, to the chamber where I lie</p>
+<p>My fearful footsteps patter nigh,</p>
+<p>And come from out the cold and gloom</p>
+<p>Into my warm and cheerful room.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There, safe arrived, we turned about</p>
+<p>To keep the coming shadows out,</p>
+<p>And close the happy door at last</p>
+<p>On all the perils that we passed.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Then, when mamma goes by to bed,</p>
+<p>She shall come in with tip-toe tread,</p>
+<p>And see me lying warm and fast</p>
+<p>And in the land of Nod at last.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page29"></a>29</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>THE CHILD ALONE</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page30"></a>30</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31"></a>31</span></p>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> children are playing alone on the green,</p>
+<p>In comes the playmate that never was seen.</p>
+<p>When children are happy and lonely and good,</p>
+<p>The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Nobody heard him and nobody saw,</p>
+<p>His is a picture you never could draw,</p>
+<p>But he&rsquo;s sure to be present, abroad or at home,</p>
+<p>When children are happy and playing alone.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,</p>
+<p>He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;</p>
+<p>Whene&rsquo;er you are happy and cannot tell why,</p>
+<p>The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!</p>
+
+<p class="s">He loves to be little, he hates to be big,</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin</p>
+<p>That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&rsquo;Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,</p>
+<p>Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;</p>
+<p>For wherever they&rsquo;re lying, in cupboard or shelf,</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32"></a>32</span></p>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>MY SHIP AND I</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">O it&rsquo;s</span> I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond;</p>
+<p>And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;</p>
+<p>But when I&rsquo;m a little older, I shall find the secret out</p>
+  <p class="i1">How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.</p>
+
+<p class="s">For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the dolly I intend to come alive;</p>
+<p>And with him beside to help me, it&rsquo;s a-sailing I shall go,</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O it&rsquo;s then you&rsquo;ll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And you&rsquo;ll hear the water singing at the prow;</p>
+<p>For beside the dolly sailor, I&rsquo;m to voyage and explore,</p>
+<p>To land upon the island where no dolly was before,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>MY KINGDOM</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Down</span> by a shining water well</p>
+<p>I found a very little dell,</p>
+  <p class="i1">No higher than my head.</p>
+<p>The heather and the gorse about</p>
+<p>In summer bloom were coming out,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Some yellow and some red.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page33"></a>33</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I called the little pool a sea;</p>
+<p>The little hills were big to me;</p>
+  <p class="i1">For I am very small.</p>
+<p>I made a boat, I made a town,</p>
+<p>I searched the caverns up and down,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And named them one and all.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And all about was mine, I said,</p>
+<p>The little sparrows overhead,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The little minnows too.</p>
+<p>This was the world, and I was king;</p>
+<p>For me the bees came by to sing,</p>
+  <p class="i1">For me the swallows flew.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I played there were no deeper seas,</p>
+<p>Nor any wider plains than these,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor other kings than me.</p>
+<p>At last I heard my mother call</p>
+<p>Out from the house at even-fall,</p>
+  <p class="i1">To call me home to tea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And I must rise and leave my dell,</p>
+<p>And leave my dimpled water well,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And leave my heather blooms.</p>
+<p>Alas! and as my home I neared,</p>
+<p>How very big my nurse appeared,</p>
+  <p class="i1">How great and cool the rooms!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Summer</span> fading, winter comes&mdash;</p>
+<p>Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,</p>
+<p>Window robins, winter rooks,</p>
+<p>And the picture story-books.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page34"></a>34</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Water now is turned to stone</p>
+<p>Nurse and I can walk upon;</p>
+<p>Still we find the flowing brooks</p>
+<p>In the picture story-books.</p>
+
+<p class="s">All the pretty things put by</p>
+<p>Wait upon the children&rsquo;s eye,</p>
+<p>Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,</p>
+<p>In the picture story-books.</p>
+
+<p class="s">We may see how all things are,</p>
+<p>Seas and cities, near and far,</p>
+<p>And the flying fairies&rsquo; looks,</p>
+<p>In the picture story-books.</p>
+
+<p class="s">How am I to sing your praise,</p>
+<p>Happy chimney-corner days,</p>
+<p>Sitting safe in nursery nooks,</p>
+<p>Reading picture story-books?</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>MY TREASURES</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">These</span> nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest</p>
+<p>Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest,</p>
+<p>Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me</p>
+<p>In a wood with a well by the side of the sea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!)</p>
+<p>By the side of a field at the end of the grounds.</p>
+<p>Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own,</p>
+<p>It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page35"></a>35</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey,</p>
+<p>We discovered I cannot tell <i>how</i> far away;</p>
+<p>And I carried it back, although weary and cold,</p>
+<p>For, though father denies it, I&rsquo;m sure it is gold.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But of all of my treasures the last is the king,</p>
+<p>For there&rsquo;s very few children possess such a thing;</p>
+<p>And that is a chisel, both handle and blade,</p>
+<p>Which a man who was really a carpenter made.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>BLOCK CITY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">What</span> are you able to build with your blocks?</p>
+<p>Castles and palaces, temples and docks.</p>
+<p>Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,</p>
+<p>But I can be happy and building at home.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,</p>
+<p>There I&rsquo;ll establish a city for me:</p>
+<p>A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,</p>
+<p>And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Great is the palace with pillar and wall,</p>
+<p>A sort of a tower on the top of it all,</p>
+<p>And steps coming down in an orderly way</p>
+<p>To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.</p>
+
+<p class="s">This one is sailing and that one is moored:</p>
+<p>Hark to the song of the sailors on board!</p>
+<p>And see, on the steps of my palace, the kings</p>
+<p>Coming and going with presents and things!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page36"></a>36</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Now I have done with it, down let it go!</p>
+<p>All in a moment the town is laid low.</p>
+<p>Block upon block lying scattered and free,</p>
+<p>What is there left of my town by the sea?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Yet, as I saw it, I see it again,</p>
+<p>The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men,</p>
+<p>And as long as I live, and where&rsquo;er I may be,</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ll always remember my town by the sea.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">At</span> evening when the lamp is lit,</p>
+<p>Around the fire my parents sit;</p>
+<p>They sit at home and talk and sing,</p>
+<p>And do not play at anything.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now, with my little gun, I crawl</p>
+<p>All in the dark along the wall,</p>
+<p>And follow round the forest track</p>
+<p>Away behind the sofa back.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There, in the night, where none can spy,</p>
+<p>All in my hunter&rsquo;s camp I lie,</p>
+<p>And play at books that I have read</p>
+<p>Till it is time to go to bed.</p>
+
+<p class="s">These are the hills, these are the woods,</p>
+<p>These are my starry solitudes;</p>
+<p>And there the river by whose brink</p>
+<p>The roaring lions come to drink.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page37"></a>37</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I see the others far away</p>
+<p>As if in firelit camp they lay,</p>
+<p>And I, like to an Indian scout,</p>
+<p>Around their party prowled about</p>
+
+<p class="s">So, when my nurse comes in for me,</p>
+<p>Home I return across the sea,</p>
+<p>And go to bed with backward looks</p>
+<p>At my dear land of Story-books.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<h3>ARMIES IN THE FIRE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> lamps now glitter down the street;</p>
+<p>Faintly sound the falling feet;</p>
+<p>And the blue even slowly falls</p>
+<p>About the garden trees and walls.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now in the falling of the gloom</p>
+<p>The red fire paints the empty room:</p>
+<p>And warmly on the roof it looks,</p>
+<p>And flickers on the backs of books.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Armies march by tower and spire</p>
+<p>Of cities blazing, in the fire;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Till as I gaze with staring eyes,</p>
+<p>The armies fade, the lustre dies.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Then once again the glow returns;</p>
+<p>Again the phantom city burns;</p>
+<p>And down the red-hot valley, lo!</p>
+<p>The phantom armies marching go!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page38"></a>38</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Blinking embers, tell me true</p>
+<p>Where are those armies marching to,</p>
+<p>And what the burning city is</p>
+<p>That crumbles in your furnaces!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IX</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LITTLE LAND</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> at home alone I sit</p>
+<p>And am very tired of it,</p>
+<p>I have just to shut my eyes</p>
+<p>To go sailing through the skies&mdash;</p>
+<p>To go sailing far away</p>
+<p>To the pleasant Land of Play;</p>
+<p>To the fairy land afar</p>
+<p>Where the Little People are;</p>
+<p>Where the clover-tops are trees,</p>
+<p>And the rain-pools are the seas,</p>
+<p>And the leaves like little ships</p>
+<p>Sail about on tiny trips;</p>
+<p>And above the daisy tree</p>
+  <p class="i2">Through the grasses,</p>
+<p>High o&rsquo;erhead the Bumble Bee</p>
+  <p class="i2">Hums and passes.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In that forest to and fro</p>
+<p>I can wander, I can go;</p>
+<p>See the spider and the fly,</p>
+<p>And the ants go marching by</p>
+<p>Carrying parcels with their feet</p>
+<p>Down the green and grassy street.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page39"></a>39</span></p>
+<p>I can in the sorrel sit</p>
+<p>Where the ladybird alit.</p>
+<p>I can climb the jointed grass;</p>
+  <p class="i2">And on high</p>
+<p>See the greater swallows pass</p>
+  <p class="i2">In the sky,</p>
+<p>And the round sun rolling by</p>
+<p>Heeding no such things as I.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Through that forest I can pass</p>
+<p>Till, as in a looking-glass,</p>
+<p>Humming fly and daisy tree</p>
+<p>And my tiny self I see</p>
+<p>Painted very clear and neat</p>
+<p>On the rain-pool at my feet.</p>
+<p>Should a leaflet come to land</p>
+<p>Drifting near to where I stand,</p>
+<p>Straight I&rsquo;ll board that tiny boat</p>
+<p>Round the rain-pool sea to float.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Little thoughtful creatures sit</p>
+<p>On the grassy coasts of it;</p>
+<p>Little things with lovely eyes</p>
+<p>See me sailing with surprise.</p>
+<p>Some are clad in armour green&mdash;</p>
+<p>(These have sure to battle been!)&mdash;</p>
+<p>Some are pied with ev&rsquo;ry hue,</p>
+<p>Black and crimson, gold and blue;</p>
+<p>Some have wings and swift are gone;&mdash;</p>
+<p>But they all look kindly on.</p>
+
+<p class="s">When my eyes I once again</p>
+<p>Open and see all things plain;</p>
+<p>High bare walls, great bare floor;</p>
+<p>Great big knobs on drawer and door;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page40"></a>40</span></p>
+<p>Great big people perched on chairs,</p>
+<p>Stitching tucks and mending tears,</p>
+<p>Each a hill that I could climb,</p>
+<p>And talking nonsense all the time&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i2">O dear me,</p>
+  <p class="i2">That I could be</p>
+<p>A sailor on the rain-pool sea,</p>
+<p>A climber in the clover-tree,</p>
+<p>And just come back, a sleepy-head,</p>
+<p>Late at night to go to bed.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page41"></a>41</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>GARDEN DAYS</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page42"></a>42</span></p>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page43"></a>43</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>NIGHT AND DAY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> the golden day is done,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Through the closing portal,</p>
+<p>Child and garden, flower and sun,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Vanish all things mortal.</p>
+
+<p class="s">As the blinding shadows fall,</p>
+  <p class="i1">As the rays diminish,</p>
+<p>Under evening&rsquo;s cloak, they all</p>
+  <p class="i1">Roll away and vanish.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Garden darkened, daisy shut,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Child in bed, they slumber&mdash;</p>
+<p>Glow-worm in the highway rut,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Mice among the lumber.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In the darkness houses shine,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Parents move with candles;</p>
+<p>Till on all the night divine</p>
+  <p class="i1">Turns the bedroom handles.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Till at last the day begins</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the east a-breaking,</p>
+<p>In the hedges and the whins</p>
+  <p class="i1">Sleeping birds a-waking.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In the darkness shapes of things,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Houses, trees, and hedges,</p>
+<p>Clearer grow; and sparrows&rsquo; wings</p>
+  <p class="i1">Beat on window ledges.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page44"></a>44</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">These shall wake the yawning maid;</p>
+  <p class="i1">She the door shall open&mdash;</p>
+<p>Finding dew on garden glade</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the morning broken.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There my garden grows again</p>
+  <p class="i1">Green and rosy painted,</p>
+<p>As at eve behind the pane</p>
+  <p class="i1">From my eyes it fainted.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Just as it was shut away,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Toy-like, in the even,</p>
+<p>Here I see it glow with day</p>
+  <p class="i1">Under glowing heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Every path and every plot,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Every bush of roses,</p>
+<p>Every blue forget-me-not</p>
+  <p class="i1">Where the dew reposes,</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Up!&rdquo; they cry, &ldquo;the day is come</p>
+  <p class="i1">On the smiling valleys:</p>
+<p>We have beat the morning drum;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Playmate, join your allies!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>NEST EGGS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Birds</span> all the sunny day</p>
+  <p class="i1">Flutter and quarrel,</p>
+<p>Here in the arbour-like</p>
+  <p class="i1">Tent of the laurel.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page45"></a>45</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Here in the fork</p>
+  <p class="i1">The brown nest is seated;</p>
+<p>Four little blue eggs</p>
+  <p class="i1">The mother keeps heated.</p>
+
+<p class="s">While we stand watching her,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Staring like gabies,</p>
+<p>Safe in each egg are the</p>
+  <p class="i1">Bird&rsquo;s little babies.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Soon the frail eggs they shall</p>
+  <p class="i1">Chip, and upspringing</p>
+<p>Make all the April woods</p>
+  <p class="i1">Merry with singing.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Younger than we are,</p>
+  <p class="i1">O children, and frailer,</p>
+<p>Soon in blue air they&rsquo;ll be,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Singer and sailor.</p>
+
+<p class="s">We, so much older,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Taller and stronger,</p>
+<p>We shall look down on the</p>
+  <p class="i1">Birdies no longer.</p>
+
+<p class="s">They shall go flying</p>
+  <p class="i1">With musical speeches</p>
+<p>High overhead in the</p>
+  <p class="i1">Tops of the beeches.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In spite of our wisdom</p>
+  <p class="i1">And sensible talking,</p>
+<p>We on our feet must go</p>
+  <p class="i1">Plodding and walking.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page46"></a>46</span></p>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>THE FLOWERS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">All</span> the names I know from nurse:</p>
+<p>Gardener&rsquo;s garters, Shepherd&rsquo;s purse,</p>
+<p>Bachelor&rsquo;s buttons, Lady&rsquo;s smock,</p>
+<p>And the Lady Hollyhock.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Fairy places, fairy things,</p>
+<p>Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,</p>
+<p>Tiny trees for tiny dames&mdash;</p>
+<p>These must all be fairy names!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Tiny woods below whose boughs</p>
+<p>Shady fairies weave a house;</p>
+<p>Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,</p>
+<p>Where the braver fairies climb!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Fair are grown-up people&rsquo;s trees,</p>
+<p>But the fairest woods are these;</p>
+<p>Where if I were not so tall,</p>
+<p>I should live for good and all.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>SUMMER SUN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Great</span> is the sun, and wide he goes</p>
+<p>Through empty heaven without repose;</p>
+<p>And in the blue and glowing days</p>
+<p>More thick than rain he showers his rays.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47"></a>47</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Though closer still the blinds we pull</p>
+<p>To keep the shady parlour cool,</p>
+<p>Yet he will find a chink or two</p>
+<p>To slip his golden fingers through.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The dusty attic, spider-clad,</p>
+<p>He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;</p>
+<p>And through the broken edge of tiles</p>
+<p>Into the laddered hayloft smiles.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Meantime his golden face around</p>
+<p>He bares to all the garden ground,</p>
+<p>And sheds a warm and glittering look</p>
+<p>Among the ivy&rsquo;s inmost nook.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Above the hills, along the blue,</p>
+<p>Round the bright air with footing true,</p>
+<p>To please the child, to paint the rose,</p>
+<p>The gardener of the World, he goes.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>THE DUMB SOLDIER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> the grass was closely mown,</p>
+<p>Walking on the lawn alone,</p>
+<p>In the turf a hole I found</p>
+<p>And hid a soldier underground.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Spring and daisies came apace;</p>
+<p>Grasses hide my hiding-place;</p>
+<p>Grasses run like a green sea</p>
+<p>O&rsquo;er the lawn up to my knee.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page48"></a>48</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Under grass alone he lies,</p>
+<p>Looking up with leaden eyes,</p>
+<p>Scarlet coat and pointed gun,</p>
+<p>To the stars and to the sun.</p>
+
+<p class="s">When the grass is ripe like grain,</p>
+<p>When the scythe is stoned again,</p>
+<p>When the lawn is shaven clear,</p>
+<p>Then my hole shall reappear.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I shall find him, never fear,</p>
+<p>I shall find my grenadier;</p>
+<p>But, for all that&rsquo;s gone and come,</p>
+<p>I shall find my soldier dumb.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He has lived, a little thing,</p>
+<p>In the grassy woods of spring;</p>
+<p>Done, if he could tell me true,</p>
+<p>Just as I should like to do.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He has seen the starry hours</p>
+<p>And the springing of the flowers;</p>
+<p>And the fairy things that pass</p>
+<p>In the forests of the grass.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In the silence he has heard</p>
+<p>Talking bee and ladybird,</p>
+<p>And the butterfly has flown</p>
+<p>O&rsquo;er him as he lay alone.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Not a word will he disclose,</p>
+<p>Not a word of all he knows.</p>
+<p>I must lay him on the shelf,</p>
+<p>And make up the tale myself.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page49"></a>49</span></p>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>AUTUMN FIRES</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> the other gardens</p>
+  <p class="i1">And all up the vale,</p>
+<p>From the autumn bonfires</p>
+  <p class="i1">See the smoke trail!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Pleasant summer over,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And all the summer flowers,</p>
+<p>The red fire blazes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The grey smoke towers.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sing a song of seasons!</p>
+  <p class="i1">Something bright in all!</p>
+<p>Flowers in the summer,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Fires in the fall!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE GARDENER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> gardener does not love to talk,</p>
+<p>He makes me keep the gravel walk;</p>
+<p>And when he puts his tools away,</p>
+<p>He locks the door and takes the key.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Away behind the currant row</p>
+<p>Where no one else but cook may go,</p>
+<p>Far in the plots, I see him dig,</p>
+<p>Old and serious, brown and big.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page50"></a>50</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,</p>
+<p>Nor wishes to be spoken to.</p>
+<p>He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,</p>
+<p>And never seems to want to play.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Silly gardener! summer goes,</p>
+<p>And winter comes with pinching toes,</p>
+<p>When in the garden bare and brown</p>
+<p>You must lay your barrow down.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Well now, and while the summer stays,</p>
+<p>To profit by these garden days,</p>
+<p>O how much wiser you would be</p>
+<p>To play at Indian wars with me!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<h3>HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dear</span> Uncle Jim, this garden ground,</p>
+<p>That now you smoke your pipe around,</p>
+<p>Has seen immortal actions done</p>
+<p>And valiant battles lost and won.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here we had best on tip-toe tread,</p>
+<p>While I for safety march ahead,</p>
+<p>For this is that enchanted ground</p>
+<p>Where all who loiter slumber sound.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here is the sea, here is the sand,</p>
+<p>Here is simple Shepherd&rsquo;s Land,</p>
+<p>Here are the fairy hollyhocks,</p>
+<p>And there are Ali Baba&rsquo;s rocks.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page51"></a>51</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">But yonder, see! apart and high,</p>
+<p>Frozen Siberia lies; where I,</p>
+<p>With Robert Bruce and William Tell,</p>
+<p>Was bound by an enchanter&rsquo;s spell.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There, then, a while in chains we lay,</p>
+<p>In wintry dungeons, far from day;</p>
+<p>But ris&rsquo;n at length, with might and main,</p>
+<p>Our iron fetters burst in twain.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Then all the horns were blown in town;</p>
+<p>And, to the ramparts clanging down,</p>
+<p>All the giants leaped to horse</p>
+<p>And charged behind us through the gorse.</p>
+
+<p class="s">On we rode, the others and I,</p>
+<p>Over the mountains blue, and by</p>
+<p>The Silver River, the sounding sea,</p>
+<p>And the robber woods of Tartary.</p>
+
+<p class="s">A thousand miles we galloped fast,</p>
+<p>And down the witches&rsquo; lane we passed,</p>
+<p>And rode amain, with brandished sword,</p>
+<p>Up to the middle, through the ford.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Last we drew rein&mdash;a weary three&mdash;</p>
+<p>Upon the lawn, in time for tea,</p>
+<p>And from our steeds alighted down</p>
+<p>Before the gates of Babylon.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page52"></a>52</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page53"></a>53</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>ENVOYS</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page54"></a>54</span></p>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page55"></a>55</span></p>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+  <p class="i15"><span class="sc">If</span> two may read aright</p>
+  <p class="i15">These rhymes of old delight</p>
+  <p class="i15">And house and garden play,</p>
+<p>You two, my cousins, and you only, may.</p>
+
+<p class="s i15">You in a garden green</p>
+  <p class="i15">With me were king and queen,</p>
+  <p class="i15">Were hunter, soldier, tar,</p>
+<p>And all the thousand things that children are.</p>
+
+<p class="s i15">Now in the elders&rsquo; seat</p>
+  <p class="i15">We rest with quiet feet,</p>
+  <p class="i15">And from the window-bay</p>
+<p>We watch the children, our successors, play.</p>
+
+<p class="s i15">&ldquo;Time was,&rdquo; the golden head</p>
+  <p class="i15">Irrevocably said;</p>
+  <p class="i15">But time which none can bind,</p>
+<p>While flowing fast away, leaves love behind.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MY MOTHER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">You</span> too, my mother, read my rhymes</p>
+<p>For love of unforgotten times,</p>
+<p>And you may chance to hear once more</p>
+<p>The little feet along the floor.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page56"></a>56</span></p>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>TO AUNTIE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><i>Chief of our aunts</i>&mdash;not only I,</p>
+<p>But all your dozen of nurslings cry&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>What did the other children do?</i></p>
+<p><i>And what were childhood, wanting you?</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MINNIE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> red room with the giant bed</p>
+<p>Where none but elders lay their head;</p>
+<p>The little room where you and I</p>
+<p>Did for a while together lie,</p>
+<p>And, simple suitor, I your hand</p>
+<p>In decent marriage did demand;</p>
+<p>The great day-nursery, best of all,</p>
+<p>With pictures pasted on the wall</p>
+<p>And leaves upon the blind&mdash;</p>
+<p>A pleasant room wherein to wake</p>
+<p>And hear the leafy garden shake</p>
+<p>And rustle in the wind&mdash;</p>
+<p>And pleasant there to lie in bed</p>
+<p>And see the pictures overhead&mdash;</p>
+<p>The wars about Sebastopol,</p>
+<p>The grinning guns along the wall,</p>
+<p>The daring escalade,</p>
+<p>The plunging ships, the bleating sheep,</p>
+<p>The happy children ankle-deep,</p>
+<p>And laughing as they wade:</p>
+<p>All these are vanished clean away,</p>
+<p>And the old manse is changed to-day;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page57"></a>57</span></p>
+<p>It wears an altered face</p>
+<p>And shields a stranger race.</p>
+<p>The river, on from mill to mill,</p>
+<p>Flows past our childhood&rsquo;s garden still;</p>
+<p>But ah! we children never more</p>
+<p>Shall watch it from the water-door!</p>
+<p>Below the yew&mdash;it still is there&mdash;</p>
+<p>Our phantom voices haunt the air</p>
+<p>As we were still at play,</p>
+<p>And I can hear them call and say:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>How far is it to Babylon?</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Ah, far enough, my dear,</p>
+<p>Far, far enough from here&mdash;</p>
+<p>Yet you have farther gone!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Can I get there by candlelight?</i>&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So goes the old refrain.</p>
+<p>I do not know&mdash;perchance you might&mdash;</p>
+<p>But only, children, hear it right,</p>
+<p>Ah, never to return again!</p>
+<p>The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt,</p>
+<p>Shall break on hill and plain,</p>
+<p>And put all stars and candles out,</p>
+<p>Ere we be young again.</p>
+
+<p class="s">To you in distant India, these</p>
+<p>I send across the seas,</p>
+<p>Nor count it far across.</p>
+<p>For which of us forgets</p>
+<p>The Indian cabinets,</p>
+<p>The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross,</p>
+<p>The pied and painted birds and beans,</p>
+<p>The junks and bangles, beads and screens,</p>
+<p>The gods and sacred bells,</p>
+<p>And the loud-humming, twisted shells?</p>
+<p>The level of the parlour floor</p>
+<p>Was honest, homely, Scottish shore;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page58"></a>58</span></p>
+<p>But when we climbed upon a chair,</p>
+<p>Behold the gorgeous East was there!</p>
+<p>Be this a fable; and behold</p>
+<p>Me in the parlour as of old,</p>
+<p>And Minnie just above me set</p>
+<p>In the quaint Indian cabinet!</p>
+<p>Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf</p>
+<p>Too high for me to reach myself.</p>
+<p>Reach down a hand, my dear, and take</p>
+<p>These rhymes for old acquaintance&rsquo; sake.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MY NAME-CHILD</h3>
+
+
+<h5>1</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Some</span> day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed,</p>
+<p>Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read.</p>
+<p>Then shall you discover that your name was printed down</p>
+<p>By the English printers, long before, in London town.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In the great and busy city where the East and West are met,</p>
+<p>All the little letters did the English printer set;</p>
+<p>While you thought of nothing, and were still too young to play,</p>
+<p>Foreign people thought of you in places far away.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the English lands</p>
+<p>Other little children took the volume in their hands;</p>
+<p>Other children questioned, in their homes across the seas:</p>
+<p>Who was little Louis, won&rsquo;t you tell us, mother, please?</p>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page59"></a>59</span></p>
+<h5>2</h5>
+
+<p>Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and go and play,</p>
+<p>Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey,</p>
+<p>Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried by the breeze,</p>
+<p>Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls to you,</p>
+<p>Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do;</p>
+<p>And that while you thought of no one, nearly half the world away</p>
+<p>Some one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>TO ANY READER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">As</span> from the house your mother sees</p>
+<p>You playing round the garden trees,</p>
+<p>So you may see, if you will look</p>
+<p>Through the windows of this book,</p>
+<p>Another child, far, far away,</p>
+<p>And in another garden, play.</p>
+<p>But do not think you can at all,</p>
+<p>By knocking on the window, call</p>
+<p>That child to hear you. He intent</p>
+<p>Is all on his play-business bent.</p>
+<p>He does not hear; he will not look,</p>
+<p>Not yet be lured out of this book.</p>
+<p>For, long ago, the truth to say,</p>
+<p>He has grown up and gone away,</p>
+<p>And it is but a child of air</p>
+<p>That lingers in the garden there.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60"></a>60</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page61"></a>61</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>UNDERWOODS</h2>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr f80">
+
+<p><i>Of all my verse, like not a single line;</i></p>
+<p><i>But like my title, for it is not mine.</i></p>
+<p><i>That title from a better man I stole;</i></p>
+<p><i>Ah, how much better, had I stol&rsquo;n the whole!</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page62"></a>62</span></p>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page63"></a>63</span></p>
+<h3><i>DEDICATION</i></h3>
+
+
+<p><i>There are men and classes of men that stand above the common
+herd: the soldier, the sailor, and the shepherd not unfrequently;
+the artist rarely; rarelier still, the clergyman; the
+physician almost as a rule. He is the flower (such as it is)
+of our civilisation; and when that stage of man is done with,
+and only remembered to be marvelled at in history, he will
+be thought to have shared as little as any in the defects of the
+period, and most notably exhibited the virtues of the race.
+Generosity he has, such as is possible to those who practise
+an art, never to those who drive a trade; discretion, tested
+by a hundred secrets; tact, tried in a thousand embarrassments;
+and, what are more important, Heraclean cheerfulness
+and courage. So it is that he brings air and cheer into the
+sickroom, and often enough, though not so often as he wishes,
+brings healing.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Gratitude is but a lame sentiment; thanks, when they are
+expressed, are often more embarrassing than welcome;
+and yet I must set forth mine to a few out of many doctors who
+have brought me comfort and help: to </i>Dr. Willey<i> of San
+Francisco, whose kindness to a stranger it must be as grateful
+to him, as it is touching to me, to remember; to </i>Dr. Karl
+Ruedi<i> of Davos, the good genius of the English in his frosty
+mountains; to </i>Dr. Herbert<i> of Paris, whom I knew only
+for a week, and to </i>Dr. Caissot<i> of Montpellier, whom I knew
+only for ten days, and who have yet written their names
+deeply in my memory; to </i>Dr. Brandt<i> of Royat; to </i>Dr.
+Wakefield<i> of Nice; to </i>Dr. Chepmell<i>, whose visits make it
+a pleasure to be ill; to </i>Dr. Horace Dobell<i>, so wise in counsel;
+to </i>Sir Andrew Clark<i>,  so unwearied in kindness; and to that
+wise youth, my uncle, </i>Dr. Balfour<i>.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page64"></a>64</span></p>
+
+<p><i>I forget as many as I remember; and I ask both to pardon
+me, these for silence, those for inadequate speech. But one
+name I have kept on purpose to the last, because it is a household
+word with me, and because if I had not received favours
+from so many hands and in so many quarters of the world, it
+should have stood upon this page alone: that of my friend
+</i>Thomas Bodley Scott<i> of Bournemouth. Will he accept
+this, although shared among so many, for a dedication to himself?
+and when next my ill-fortune (which has thus its
+pleasant side) brings him hurrying to me when he would
+fain sit down to meat or lie down to rest, will he care to
+remember that he takes this trouble for one who is not fool
+enough to be ungrateful?</i></p>
+
+<p class="sign"><i>R. L. S.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Skerryvore,</i></p>
+<p style="padding-left: 2em;"><i>Bournemouth.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page65"></a>65</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>BOOK I</h3>
+
+<h3>IN ENGLISH</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page66"></a>66</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page67"></a>67</span></p>
+<h2>UNDERWOODS</h2>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>ENVOY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Go</span>, little book, and wish to all</p>
+<p>Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,</p>
+<p>A bin of wine, a spice of wit,</p>
+<p>A house with lawns enclosing it,</p>
+<p>A living river by the door,</p>
+<p>A nightingale in the sycamore!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>A SONG OF THE ROAD</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> gauger walked with willing foot,</p>
+<p>And aye the gauger played the flute;</p>
+<p>And what should Master Gauger play</p>
+<p>But <i>Over the hills and far away</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Whene&rsquo;er I buckle on my pack</p>
+<p>And foot it gaily in the track,</p>
+<p>O pleasant gauger, long since dead,</p>
+<p>I hear you fluting on ahead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">You go with me the selfsame way&mdash;</p>
+<p>The selfsame air for me you play;</p>
+<p>For I do think and so do you</p>
+<p>It is the tune to travel to.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page68"></a>68</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">For who would gravely set his face</p>
+<p>To go to this or t&rsquo;other place?</p>
+<p>There&rsquo;s nothing under heav&rsquo;n so blue</p>
+<p>That&rsquo;s fairly worth the travelling to.</p>
+
+<p class="s">On every hand the roads begin,</p>
+<p>And people walk with zeal therein;</p>
+<p>But wheresoe&rsquo;er the highways tend,</p>
+<p>Be sure there&rsquo;s nothing at the end.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Then follow you, wherever hie</p>
+<p>The travelling mountains of the sky.</p>
+<p>Or let the streams in civil mode</p>
+<p>Direct your choice upon a road;</p>
+
+<p class="s">For one and all, or high or low,</p>
+<p>Will lead you where you wish to go;</p>
+<p>And one and all go night and day</p>
+<p><i>Over the hills and far away</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Forest of Montargis, 1878.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>THE CANOE SPEAKS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">On</span> the great streams the ships may go</p>
+<p>About men&rsquo;s business to and fro.</p>
+<p>But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep</p>
+<p>On crystal waters ankle-deep:</p>
+<p>I, whose diminutive design,</p>
+<p>Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine,</p>
+<p>Is fashioned on so frail a mould,</p>
+<p>A hand may launch, a hand withhold:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page69"></a>69</span></p>
+<p>I, rather, with the leaping trout</p>
+<p>Wind, among lilies, in and out;</p>
+<p>I, the unnamed, inviolate,</p>
+<p>Green, rustic rivers navigate;</p>
+<p>My dipping paddle scarcely shakes</p>
+<p>The berry in the bramble-brakes;</p>
+<p>Still forth on my green way I wend</p>
+<p>Beside the cottage garden-end;</p>
+<p>And by the nested angler fare,</p>
+<p>And take the lovers unaware.</p>
+<p>By willow wood and water-wheel</p>
+<p>Speedily fleets my touching keel;</p>
+<p>By all retired and shady spots</p>
+<p>Where prosper dim forget-me-nots;</p>
+<p>By meadows where at afternoon</p>
+<p>The growing maidens troop in June</p>
+<p>To loose their girdles on the grass.</p>
+<p>Ah! speedier than before the glass</p>
+<p>The backward toilet goes; and swift</p>
+<p>As swallows quiver, robe and shift</p>
+<p>And the rough country stockings lie</p>
+<p>Around each young divinity.</p>
+<p>When, following the recondite brook,</p>
+<p>Sudden upon this scene I look,</p>
+<p>And light with unfamiliar face</p>
+<p>On chaste Diana&rsquo;s bathing-place,</p>
+<p>Loud ring the hills about and all</p>
+<p>The shallows are abandoned....</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page70"></a>70</span></p>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It</span> is the season now to go</p>
+<p>About the country high and low,</p>
+<p>Among the lilacs hand in hand,</p>
+<p>And two by two in fairyland.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The brooding boy, the sighing maid,</p>
+<p>Wholly fain and half afraid,</p>
+<p>Now meet along the hazel&rsquo;d brook</p>
+<p>To pass and linger, pause and look.</p>
+
+<p class="s">A year ago, and blithely paired,</p>
+<p>Their rough-and-tumble play they shared;</p>
+<p>They kissed and quarrelled, laughed and cried,</p>
+<p>A year ago at Eastertide.</p>
+
+<p class="s">With bursting heart, with fiery face,</p>
+<p>She strove against him in the race;</p>
+<p>He unabashed her garter saw,</p>
+<p>That now would touch her skirts with awe.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now by the stile ablaze she stops,</p>
+<p>And his demurer eyes he drops;</p>
+<p>Now they exchange averted sighs</p>
+<p>Or stand and marry silent eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And he to her a hero is</p>
+<p>And sweeter she than primroses;</p>
+<p>Their common silence dearer far</p>
+<p>Than nightingale and mavis are.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now when they sever wedded hands,</p>
+<p>Joy trembles in their bosom-strands</p>
+<p>And lovely laughter leaps and falls</p>
+<p>Upon their lips in madrigals.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page71"></a>71</span></p>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><i>A naked house, a naked moor,</i></p>
+<p><i>A shivering pool before the door,</i></p>
+<p><i>A garden bare of flowers and fruit</i></p>
+<p><i>And poplars at the garden foot:</i></p>
+<p><i>Such is the place that I live in,</i></p>
+<p><i>Bleak without and bare within.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">Yet shall your ragged moor receive</p>
+<p>The incomparable pomp of eve,</p>
+<p>And the cold glories of the dawn</p>
+<p>Behind your shivering trees be drawn;</p>
+<p>And when the wind from place to place</p>
+<p>Doth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase,</p>
+<p>Your garden gloom and gleam again,</p>
+<p>With leaping sun, with glancing rain.</p>
+<p>Here shall the wizard moon ascend</p>
+<p>The heavens, in the crimson end</p>
+<p>Of day&rsquo;s declining splendour; here</p>
+<p>The army of the stars appear.</p>
+<p>The neighbour hollows, dry or wet,</p>
+<p>Spring shall with tender flowers beset;</p>
+<p>And oft the morning muser see</p>
+<p>Larks rising from the broomy lea,</p>
+<p>And every fairy wheel and thread</p>
+<p>Of cobweb, dew-bediamonded.</p>
+<p>When daisies go, shall winter-time</p>
+<p>Silver the simple grass with rime;</p>
+<p>Autumnal frosts enchant the pool</p>
+<p>And make the cart-ruts beautiful;</p>
+<p>And when snow-bright the moor expands,</p>
+<p>How shall your children clap their hands!</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page72"></a>72</span></p>
+<p>To make this earth, our hermitage,</p>
+<p>A cheerful and a changeful page,</p>
+<p>God&rsquo;s bright and intricate device</p>
+<p>Of days and seasons doth suffice.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>A VISIT FROM THE SEA</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Far</span> from the loud sea beaches</p>
+  <p class="i1">Where he goes fishing and crying,</p>
+<p>Here in the inland garden</p>
+  <p class="i1">Why is the sea-gull flying?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here are no fish to dive for;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Here is the corn and lea;</p>
+<p>Here are the green trees rustling.</p>
+  <p class="i1">Hie away home to sea!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Fresh is the river water</p>
+  <p class="i1">And quiet among the rushes;</p>
+<p>This is no home for the sea-gull,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But for the rooks and thrushes.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Pity the bird that has wandered!</p>
+  <p class="i1">Pity the sailor ashore!</p>
+<p>Hurry him home to the ocean,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Let him come here no more!</p>
+
+<p class="s">High on the sea-cliff ledges</p>
+  <p class="i1">The white gulls are trooping and crying,</p>
+<p>Here among rooks and roses,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Why is the sea-gull flying?</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page73"></a>73</span></p>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO A GARDENER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Friend</span>, in my mountain-side demesne,</p>
+<p>My plain-beholding, rosy, green</p>
+<p>And linnet-haunted garden-ground,</p>
+<p>Let still the esculents abound.</p>
+<p>Let first the onion flourish there,</p>
+<p>Rose among roots, the maiden-fair,</p>
+<p>Wine-scented and poetic soul</p>
+<p>Of the capacious salad-bowl.</p>
+<p>Let thyme the mountaineer (to dress</p>
+<p>The tinier birds) and wading cress,</p>
+<p>The lover of the shallow brook,</p>
+<p>From all my plots and borders look.</p>
+<p>Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor</p>
+<p>Pease-cods for the child&rsquo;s pinafore</p>
+<p>Be lacking; nor of salad clan</p>
+<p>The last and least that ever ran</p>
+<p>About great nature&rsquo;s garden-beds.</p>
+<p>Nor thence be missed the speary heads</p>
+<p>Of artichoke; nor thence the bean</p>
+<p>That gathered innocent and green</p>
+<p>Outsavours the belauded pea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">These tend, I prithee; and for me,</p>
+<p>Thy most long-suffering master, bring</p>
+<p>In April, when the linnets sing</p>
+<p>And the days lengthen more and more,</p>
+<p>At sundown to the garden door.</p>
+<p>And I, being provided thus,</p>
+<p>Shall, with superb asparagus,</p>
+<p>A book, a taper, and a cup</p>
+<p>Of country wine, divinely sup.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">La Solitude, Hy�res.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page74"></a>74</span></p>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MINNIE</h3>
+
+<h6>(WITH A HAND-GLASS)</h6>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">A picture-frame</span> for you to fill,</p>
+  <p class="i1">A paltry setting for your face,</p>
+<p>A thing that has no worth until</p>
+  <p class="i1">You lend it something of your grace,</p>
+
+<p class="s">I send (unhappy I that sing</p>
+  <p class="i1">Laid by a while upon the shelf)</p>
+<p>Because I would not send a thing</p>
+  <p class="i1">Less charming than you are yourself.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And happier than I, alas!</p>
+  <p class="i1">(Dumb thing, I envy its delight)</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Twill wish you well, the looking-glass,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And look you in the face to-night.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi1">1869.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IX</h5>
+
+<h3><span class="sc">TO K. de M.</span></h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">A lover</span> of the moorland bare</p>
+<p>And honest country winds you were;</p>
+<p>The silver-skimming rain you took;</p>
+<p>And love the floodings of the brook,</p>
+<p>Dew, frost and mountains, fire and seas,</p>
+<p>Tumultuary silences,</p>
+<p>Winds that in darkness fifed a tune,</p>
+<p>And the high-riding, virgin moon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page75"></a>75</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">And as the berry, pale and sharp,</p>
+<p>Springs on some ditch&rsquo;s counterscarp</p>
+<p>In our ungenial, native north&mdash;</p>
+<p>You put your frosted wildings forth,</p>
+<p>And on the heath, afar from man,</p>
+<p>A strong and bitter virgin ran.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The berry ripened keeps the rude</p>
+<p>And racy flavour of the wood.</p>
+<p>And you that loved the empty plain</p>
+<p>All redolent of wind and rain,</p>
+<p>Around you still the curlew sings&mdash;</p>
+<p>The freshness of the weather clings&mdash;</p>
+<p>The maiden jewels of the rain</p>
+<p>Sit in your dabbled locks again.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>X</h5>
+
+<h3><span class="sc">TO N. V. de G. S.</span></h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> unfathomable sea, and time, and tears,</p>
+<p>The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings</p>
+<p>Dispart us; and the river of events</p>
+<p>Has, for an age of years, to east and west</p>
+<p>More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me</p>
+<p>Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn</p>
+<p>Descry a land far off, and know not which.</p>
+<p>So I approach uncertain; so I cruise</p>
+<p>Round thy mysterious islet, and behold</p>
+<p>Surf and great mountains and loud river-bars,</p>
+<p>And from the shore hear inland voices call.</p>
+<p>Strange is the seaman&rsquo;s heart; he hopes, he fears;</p>
+<p>Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast;</p>
+<p>Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep</p>
+<p>His shattered prow uncomforted puts back.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page76"></a>76</span></p>
+<p>Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm</p>
+<p>Of that bright island; where he feared to touch,</p>
+<p>His spirit re-adventures; and for years,</p>
+<p>Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home,</p>
+<p>Thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees</p>
+<p>The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes</p>
+<p>Yearning for that far home that might have been.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XI</h5>
+
+<h3>TO WILL. H. LOW</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Youth</span> now flees on feathered foot,</p>
+<p>Faint and fainter sounds the flute,</p>
+<p>Rarer songs of gods; and still</p>
+<p>Somewhere on the sunny hill,</p>
+<p>Or along the winding stream,</p>
+<p>Through the willows, flits a dream;</p>
+<p>Flits but shows a smiling face,</p>
+<p>Flees, but with so quaint a grace,</p>
+<p>None can choose to stay at home,</p>
+<p>All must follow, all must roam.</p>
+
+<p class="s">This is unborn beauty: she</p>
+<p>Now in air floats high and free.</p>
+<p>Takes the sun and makes the blue;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Late with stooping pinion flew</p>
+<p>Raking hedgerow trees, and wet</p>
+<p>Her wing in silver streams, and set</p>
+<p>Shining foot on temple roof:</p>
+<p>Now again she flies aloof,</p>
+<p>Coasting mountain clouds and kiss&rsquo;t</p>
+<p>By the evening&rsquo;s amethyst.</p>
+<p>In wet wood and miry lane,</p>
+<p>Still we pant and pound in vain;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page77"></a>77</span></p>
+<p>Still with leaden foot we chase</p>
+<p>Waning pinion, fainting face;</p>
+<p>Still with grey hair we stumble on,</p>
+<p>Till, behold, the vision gone!</p>
+<p>Where hath fleeting beauty led?</p>
+<p>To the doorway of the dead.</p>
+<p>Life is over, life was gay:</p>
+<p>We have come the primrose way.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Even</span> in the bluest noonday of July,</p>
+<p>There could not run the smallest breath of wind</p>
+<p>But all the quarter sounded like a wood;</p>
+<p>And in the chequered silence and above</p>
+<p>The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois,</p>
+<p>Suburban ashes shivered into song.</p>
+<p>A patter and a chatter and a chirp</p>
+<p>And a long dying hiss&mdash;it was as though</p>
+<p>Starched old brocaded dames through all the house</p>
+<p>Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky</p>
+<p>Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain.</p>
+<p>Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks</p>
+<p>Of the near Autumn, how the smitten ash</p>
+<p>Trembles and augurs floods! O not too long</p>
+<p>In these inconstant latitudes delay,</p>
+<p>O not too late from the unbeloved north</p>
+<p>Trim your escape! For soon shall this low roof</p>
+<p>Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your eyes</p>
+<p>Search the foul garden, search the darkened rooms,</p>
+<p>Nor find one jewel but the blazing log.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi1">12 Rue Vernier, Paris.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page78"></a>78</span></p>
+<h5>XIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO H. F. BROWN</h3>
+
+<h6>(WRITTEN DURING A DANGEROUS SICKNESS)</h6>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I sit</span> and wait a pair of oars</p>
+<p>On cis-Elysian river-shores.</p>
+<p>Where the immortal dead have sate,</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Tis mine to sit and meditate;</p>
+<p>To re-ascend life&rsquo;s rivulet,</p>
+<p>Without remorse, without regret;</p>
+<p>And sing my <i>Alma Genetrix</i></p>
+<p>Among the willows of the Styx.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And lo, as my serener soul</p>
+<p>Did these unhappy shores patrol,</p>
+<p>And wait with an attentive ear</p>
+<p>The coming of the gondolier,</p>
+<p>Your fire-surviving roll I took,</p>
+<p>Your spirited and happy book;<a name="FnAnchor_1a" href="#Footnote_1a"><span class="sp">1</span></a></p>
+<p>Whereon, despite my frowning fate,</p>
+<p>It did my soul so recreate</p>
+<p>That all my fancies fled away</p>
+<p>On a Venetian holiday.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now, thanks to your triumphant care,</p>
+<p>Your pages clear as April air,</p>
+<p>The sails, the bells, the birds, I know,</p>
+<p>And the far-off Friulan snow;</p>
+<p>The land and sea, the sun and shade,</p>
+<p>And the blue even lamp-inlaid.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page79"></a>79</span></p>
+<p>For this, for these, for all, O friend,</p>
+<p>For your whole book from end to end&mdash;</p>
+<p>For Paron Piero&rsquo;s mutton-ham&mdash;</p>
+<p>I your defaulting debtor am.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Perchance, reviving, yet may I</p>
+<p>To your sea-paven city hie,</p>
+<p>And in a <i>felze</i> some day yet</p>
+<p>Light at your pipe my cigarette.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr class="foot" />
+<div class="note">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1a" href="#FnAnchor_1a"><span class="fn">1</span></a> &ldquo;Life on the Lagoons,&rdquo; by H. F. Brown, originally burned in the
+fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench &amp; Co.&rsquo;s.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIV</h5>
+
+<h3>TO ANDREW LANG</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dear</span> Andrew, with the brindled hair,</p>
+<p>Who glory to have thrown in air,</p>
+<p>High over arm, the trembling reed,</p>
+<p>By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed:</p>
+<p>An equal craft of hand you show</p>
+<p>The pen to guide, the fly to throw:</p>
+<p>I count you happy-starred; for God,</p>
+<p>When He with inkpot and with rod</p>
+<p>Endowed you, bade your fortune lead</p>
+<p>For ever by the crooks of Tweed,</p>
+<p>For ever by the woods of song</p>
+<p>And lands that to the Muse belong;</p>
+<p>Or if in peopled streets, or in</p>
+<p>The abhorred pedantic sanhedrin,</p>
+<p>It should be yours to wander, still</p>
+<p>Airs of the morn, airs of the hill,</p>
+<p>The plovery Forest and the seas</p>
+<p>That break about the Hebrides,</p>
+<p>Should follow over field and plain</p>
+<p>And find you at the window-pane;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page80"></a>80</span></p>
+<p>And you again see hill and peel,</p>
+<p>And the bright springs gush at your heel.</p>
+<p>So went the fiat forth, and so</p>
+<p>Garrulous like a brook you go,</p>
+<p>With sound of happy mirth and sheen</p>
+<p>Of daylight&mdash;whether by the green</p>
+<p>You fare that moment, or the grey;</p>
+<p>Whether you dwell in March or May;</p>
+<p>Or whether treat of reels and rods</p>
+<p>Or of the old unhappy gods:</p>
+<p>Still like a brook your page has shone,</p>
+<p>And your ink sings of Helicon.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XV</h5>
+
+<h3>ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI</h3>
+
+<h5>(TO R. A. M. S.)</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt;</p>
+<p>There, from of old, thy childhood passed; and there</p>
+<p>High expectation, high delights and deeds,</p>
+<p>Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved.</p>
+<p>And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast,</p>
+<p>And Roland&rsquo;s horn, and that war-scattering shout</p>
+<p>Of all-unarmed Achilles, �gis-crowned.</p>
+<p>And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores</p>
+<p>And seas and forests drear, island and dale</p>
+<p>And mountain dark. For thou with Tristram rod&rsquo;st</p>
+<p>Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse.</p>
+<p>Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat</p>
+<p>Side-looking Magians trafficked; thence, by night,</p>
+<p>An Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore</p>
+<p>Beyond the Aral Mount; or, hoping gain,</p>
+<p>Thou, with a jar of money, didst embark</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page81"></a>81</span></p>
+<p>For Balsorah by sea. But chiefly thou</p>
+<p>In that clear air took&rsquo;st life; in Arcady</p>
+<p>The haunted, land of song; and by the wells</p>
+<p>Where most the gods frequent. There Chiron old,</p>
+<p>In the Pelethronian antre, taught thee lore;</p>
+<p>The plants he taught, and by the shining stars</p>
+<p>In forests dim to steer. There hast thou seen</p>
+<p>Immortal Pan dance secret in a glade,</p>
+<p>And, dancing, roll his eyes; these, where they fell,</p>
+<p>Shed glee, and through the congregated oaks</p>
+<p>A flying horror winged; while all the earth</p>
+<p>To the god&rsquo;s pregnant footing thrilled within.</p>
+<p>Or whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he breathed,</p>
+<p>In his clutched pipe unformed and wizard strains</p>
+<p>Divine yet brutal; which the forest heard,</p>
+<p>And thou, with awe; and far upon the plain</p>
+<p>The unthinking ploughman started and gave ear.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now things there are that, upon him who sees,</p>
+<p>A strong vocation lay; and strains there are</p>
+<p>That whoso hears shall hear for evermore.</p>
+<p>For evermore thou hear&rsquo;st immortal Pan</p>
+<p>And those melodious godheads, ever young</p>
+<p>And ever quiring, on the mountains old.</p>
+
+<p class="s">What was this earth, child of the gods, to thee?</p>
+<p>Forth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer, cam&rsquo;st</p>
+<p>And in thine ears the olden music rang,</p>
+<p>And in thy mind the doings of the dead,</p>
+<p>And those heroic ages long forgot.</p>
+<p>To a so fallen earth, alas! too late,</p>
+<p>Alas! in evil days, thy steps return,</p>
+<p>To list at noon for nightingales, to grow</p>
+<p>A dweller on the beach till Argo come</p>
+<p>That came long since, a lingerer by the pool</p>
+<p>Where that desir�d angel bathes no more.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page82"></a>82</span></p>
+<p>As when the Indian to Dakota comes,</p>
+<p>Or farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt,</p>
+<p>He with his clan, a humming city finds;</p>
+<p>Thereon a while, amazed, he stares, and then</p>
+<p>To right and leftward, like a questing dog,</p>
+<p>Seeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth</p>
+<p>Long cold with rains, and where old terror lodged,</p>
+<p>And where the dead: so thee undying Hope,</p>
+<p>With all her pack, hunts screaming through the years:</p>
+<p>Here, there, thou flee�st; but nor here nor there</p>
+<p>The pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells.</p>
+
+<p class="s">That, that was not Apollo, not the god.</p>
+<p>This was not Venus, though she Venus seemed</p>
+<p>A moment. And though fair yon river move,</p>
+<p>She, all the way, from disenchanted fount</p>
+<p>To seas unhallowed runs; the gods forsook</p>
+<p>Long since her trembling rushes; from her plains</p>
+<p>Disconsolate, long since adventure fled;</p>
+<p>And now although the inviting river flows,</p>
+<p>And every poplared cape, and every bend</p>
+<p>Or willowy islet, win upon thy soul</p>
+<p>And to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed;</p>
+<p>Yet hope not thou at all; hope is no more;</p>
+<p>And O, long since the golden groves are dead</p>
+<p>The fa�ry cities vanished from the land!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVI</h5>
+
+<h3>TO W.E. HENLEY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> year runs through her phases; rain and sun,</p>
+<p>Spring-time and summer pass; winter succeeds;</p>
+<p>But one pale season rules the house of death.</p>
+<p>Cold falls the imprisoned daylight; fell disease</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page83"></a>83</span></p>
+<p>By each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep</p>
+<p>Toss gaping on the pillows.</p>
+                               <p style="margin-left: 15em;">But O thou!</p>
+<p>Uprise and take thy pipe. Bid music flow,</p>
+<p>Strains by good thoughts attended, like the spring</p>
+<p>The swallows follow over land and sea.</p>
+<p>Pain sleeps at once; at once, with open eyes,</p>
+<p>Dozing despair awakes. The shepherd sees</p>
+<p>His flock come bleating home; the seaman hears</p>
+<p>Once more the cordage rattle. Airs of home!</p>
+<p>Youth, love, and roses blossom; the gaunt ward</p>
+<p>Dislimns and disappears, and, opening out,</p>
+<p>Shows brooks and forests, and the blue beyond</p>
+<p>Of mountains.</p>
+                 <p style="margin-left: 11em;">Small the pipe; but O! do thou,</p>
+<p>Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein</p>
+<p>The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,</p>
+<p>These dying, sound the triumph over death.</p>
+<p>Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy</p>
+<p>Unknown before, in dying; for each knows</p>
+<p>A hero dies with him&mdash;though unfulfilled,</p>
+<p>Yet conquering truly&mdash;and not dies in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So is pain cheered, death comforted; the house</p>
+<p>Of sorrow smiles to listen. Once again&mdash;</p>
+<p>O thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard</p>
+<p>And the deliverer, touch the stops again!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVII</h5>
+
+<h3>HENRY JAMES</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Who</span> comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain.</p>
+<p>Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain</p>
+<p>The presences that now together throng</p>
+<p>Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page84"></a>84</span></p>
+<p>As with the air of life, the breath of talk?</p>
+<p>Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk</p>
+<p>Behind their jocund maker; and we see</p>
+<p>Slighted <i>De Mauves</i>, and that far different she,</p>
+<p><i>Gressie</i>, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast</p>
+<p><i>Daisy</i> and <i>Barb</i> and <i>Chancellor</i> (she not least!)</p>
+<p>With all their silken, all their airy kin,</p>
+<p>Do like unbidden angels enter in.</p>
+<p>But he, attended by these shining names,</p>
+<p>Comes (best of all) himself&mdash;our welcome James.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVIII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE MIRROR SPEAKS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Where</span> the bells peal far at sea</p>
+<p>Cunning fingers fashioned me.</p>
+<p>There on palace walls I hung</p>
+<p>While that Consuelo sung;</p>
+<p>But I heard, though I listened well,</p>
+<p>Never a note, never a trill,</p>
+<p>Never a beat of the chiming bell.</p>
+<p>There I hung and looked, and there</p>
+<p>In my grey face, faces fair</p>
+<p>Shone from under shining hair.</p>
+<p>Well I saw the poising head,</p>
+<p>But the lips moved and nothing said;</p>
+<p>And when lights were in the hall,</p>
+<p>Silent moved the dancers all.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So a while I glowed, and then</p>
+<p>Fell on dusty days and men;</p>
+<p>Long I slumbered packed in straw,</p>
+<p>Long I none but dealers saw;</p>
+<p>Till before my silent eye</p>
+<p>One that sees came passing by.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page85"></a>85</span></p>
+<p>Now with an outlandish grace,</p>
+<p>To the sparkling fire I face</p>
+<p>In the blue room at Skerryvore;</p>
+<p>Where I wait until the door</p>
+<p>Open, and the Prince of Men,</p>
+<p>Henry James, shall come again.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIX</h5>
+
+<h3>KATHARINE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">We</span> see you as we see a face</p>
+<p>That trembles in a forest place</p>
+<p>Upon the mirror of a pool</p>
+<p>For ever quiet, clear, and cool;</p>
+<p>And, in the wayward glass, appears</p>
+<p>To hover between smiles and tears,</p>
+<p>Elfin and human, airy and true,</p>
+<p>And backed by the reflected blue.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XX</h5>
+
+<h3>TO F. J. S.</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I read</span>, dear friend, in your dear face</p>
+<p>Your life&rsquo;s tale told with perfect grace;</p>
+<p>The river of your life I trace</p>
+<p>Up the sun-chequered, devious bed</p>
+<p>To the far-distant fountain-head.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Not one quick beat of your warm heart,</p>
+<p>Nor thought that came to you apart,</p>
+<p>Pleasure nor pity, love nor pain</p>
+<p>Nor sorrow, has gone by in vain;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page86"></a>86</span></p>
+<p>But as some lone, wood-wandering child</p>
+<p>Brings home with him at evening mild</p>
+<p>The thorns and flowers of all the wild,</p>
+<p>From your whole life, O fair and true,</p>
+<p>Your flowers and thorns you bring with you!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXI</h5>
+
+<h3>REQUIEM</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Under</span> the wide and starry sky,</p>
+<p>Dig the grave and let me lie.</p>
+<p>Glad did I live and gladly die,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And I laid me down with a will.</p>
+
+<p class="s">This be the verse you grave for me:</p>
+<p><i>Here he lies where he longed to be;</i></p>
+<p><i>Home is the sailor, home from sea,</i></p>
+  <p class="i1"><i>And the hunter home from the hill.</i></p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Hy�res</span>, <i>May 1884</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE CELESTIAL SURGEON</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">If</span> I have faltered more or less</p>
+<p>In my great task of happiness;</p>
+<p>If I have moved among my race</p>
+<p>And shown no glorious morning face;</p>
+<p>If beams from happy human eyes</p>
+<p>Have moved me not; if morning skies,</p>
+<p>Books, and my food, and summer rain</p>
+<p>Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take</p>
+<p>And stab my spirit broad awake;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page87"></a>87</span></p>
+<p>Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,</p>
+<p>Choose Thou, before that spirit die,</p>
+<p>A piercing pain, a killing sin,</p>
+<p>And to my dead heart run them in!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIII</h5>
+
+<h3>OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Out</span> of the sun, out of the blast,</p>
+<p>Out of the world, alone I passed</p>
+<p>Across the moor and through the wood</p>
+<p>To where the monastery stood.</p>
+<p>There neither lute nor breathing fife,</p>
+<p>Nor rumour of the world of life,</p>
+<p>Nor confidences low and dear,</p>
+<p>Shall strike the meditative ear.</p>
+<p>Aloof, unhelpful, and unkind,</p>
+<p>The prisoners of the iron mind,</p>
+<p>Where nothing speaks except the bell,</p>
+<p>The unfraternal brothers dwell.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Poor passionate men, still clothed afresh</p>
+<p>With agonising folds of flesh;</p>
+<p>Whom the clear eyes solicit still</p>
+<p>To some bold output of the will,</p>
+<p>While fairy Fancy far before</p>
+<p>And musing Memory-Hold-the-door</p>
+<p>Now to heroic death invite</p>
+<p>And now uncurtain fresh delight:</p>
+<p>O, little boots it thus to dwell</p>
+<p>On the remote unneighboured hill!</p>
+
+<p class="s">O to be up and doing, O</p>
+<p>Unfearing and unshamed to go</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page88"></a>88</span></p>
+<p>In all the uproar and the press</p>
+<p>About my human business!</p>
+<p>My undissuaded heart I hear</p>
+<p>Whisper courage in my ear.</p>
+<p>With voiceless calls, the ancient earth</p>
+<p>Summons me to a daily birth.</p>
+<p>Thou, O my love, ye, O my friends&mdash;</p>
+<p>The gist of life, the end of ends&mdash;</p>
+<p>To laugh, to love, to live, to die,</p>
+<p>Ye call me by the ear and eye!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Forth from the casemate, on the plain</p>
+<p>Where honour has the world to gain,</p>
+<p>Pour forth and bravely do your part,</p>
+<p>O knights of the unshielded heart!</p>
+<p>Forth and for ever forward!&mdash;out</p>
+<p>From prudent turret and redoubt,</p>
+<p>And in the mellay charge amain,</p>
+<p>To fall but yet to rise again!</p>
+<p>Captive?  ah, still, to honour bright,</p>
+<p>A captive soldier of the right!</p>
+<p>Or free and fighting, good with ill?</p>
+<p>Unconquering but unconquered still!</p>
+
+<p class="s">And ye, O brethren, what if God,</p>
+<p>When from Heav&rsquo;n&rsquo;s top He spies abroad,</p>
+<p>And sees on this tormented stage</p>
+<p>The noble war of mankind rage:</p>
+<p>What if His vivifying eye,</p>
+<p>O monks, should pass your corner by?</p>
+<p>For still the Lord is Lord of might;</p>
+<p>In deeds, in deeds, He takes delight;</p>
+<p>The plough, the spear, the laden barks,</p>
+<p>The field, the founded city, marks;</p>
+<p>He marks the smiler of the streets,</p>
+<p>The singer upon garden seats;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page89"></a>89</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">He sees the climber in the rocks:</p>
+<p>To Him, the shepherd folds his flocks.</p>
+<p>For those He loves that underprop</p>
+<p>With daily virtues Heaven&rsquo;s top,</p>
+<p>And bear the falling sky with ease,</p>
+<p>Unfrowning caryatides.</p>
+<p>Those He approves that ply the trade,</p>
+<p>That rock the child, that wed the maid,</p>
+<p>That with weak virtues, weaker hands,</p>
+<p>Sow gladness on the peopled lands.</p>
+<p>And still with laughter, song and shout,</p>
+<p>Spin the great wheel of earth about.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But ye?&mdash;O ye who linger still</p>
+<p>Here in your fortress on the hill,</p>
+<p>With placid face, with tranquil breath,</p>
+<p>The unsought volunteers of death,</p>
+<p>Our cheerful General on high</p>
+<p>With careless looks may pass you by.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIV</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Not</span> yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert,</p>
+<p>Where thou with grass, and rivers, and the breeze,</p>
+<p>And the bright face of day, thy dalliance hadst;</p>
+<p>Where to thine ear first sang the enraptured birds;</p>
+<p>Where love and thou that lasting bargain made.</p>
+<p>The ship rides trimmed, and from the eternal shore</p>
+<p>Thou hearest airy voices; but not yet</p>
+<p>Depart, my soul, not yet a while depart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Freedom is far, rest far. Thou art with life</p>
+<p>Too closely woven, nerve with nerve entwined;</p>
+<p>Service still craving service, love for love,</p>
+<p>Love for dear love, still suppliant with tears.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page90"></a>90</span></p>
+<p>Alas, not yet thy human task is done!</p>
+<p>A bond at birth is forged; a debt doth lie</p>
+<p>Immortal on mortality. It grows&mdash;</p>
+<p>By vast rebound it grows, unceasing growth;</p>
+<p>Gift upon gift, alms upon alms, upreared,</p>
+<p>From man, from God, from nature, till the soul</p>
+<p>At that so huge indulgence stands amazed.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Leave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor leave</p>
+<p>Thy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert</p>
+<p>Without due service rendered. For thy life,</p>
+<p>Up, spirit, and defend that fort of clay,</p>
+<p>Thy body, now beleaguered; whether soon</p>
+<p>Or late she fall; whether to-day thy friends</p>
+<p>Bewail thee dead, or, after years, a man</p>
+<p>Grown old in honour and the friend of peace.</p>
+<p>Contend, my soul, for moments and for hours;</p>
+<p>Each is with service pregnant; each reclaimed</p>
+<p>Is as a kingdom conquered, where to reign.</p>
+
+<p class="s">As when a captain rallies to the fight</p>
+<p>His scattered legions, and beats ruin back,</p>
+<p>He, on the field, encamps, well pleased in mind.</p>
+<p>Yet surely him shall fortune overtake,</p>
+<p>Him smite in turn, headlong his ensigns drive;</p>
+<p>And that dear land, now safe, to-morrow fall.</p>
+<p>But he, unthinking, in the present good</p>
+<p>Solely delights, and all the camps rejoice.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXV</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It</span> is not yours, O mother, to complain,</p>
+<p>Not, mother, yours to weep,</p>
+<p>Though nevermore your son again</p>
+<p>Shall to your bosom creep,</p>
+<p>Though nevermore again you watch your baby sleep.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page91"></a>91</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Though in the greener paths of earth,</p>
+<p>Mother and child, no more</p>
+<p>We wander; and no more the birth</p>
+<p>Of me whom once you bore</p>
+<p>Seems still the brave reward that once it seemed of yore;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Though as all passes, day and night,</p>
+<p>The seasons and the years,</p>
+<p>From you, O mother, this delight,</p>
+<p>This also disappears&mdash;</p>
+<p>Some profit yet survives of all your pangs and tears.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The child, the seed, the grain of corn,</p>
+<p>The acorn on the hill,</p>
+<p>Each for some separate end is born</p>
+<p>In season fit, and still</p>
+<p>Each must in strength arise to work the almighty will.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So from the hearth the children flee,</p>
+<p>By that almighty hand</p>
+<p>Austerely led; so one by sea</p>
+<p>Goes forth, and one by land;</p>
+<p>Nor aught of all man&rsquo;s sons escapes from that command.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So from the sally each obeys</p>
+<p>The unseen almighty nod;</p>
+<p>So till the ending all their ways</p>
+<p>Blindfolded loth have trod:</p>
+<p>Nor knew their task at all, but were the tools of God.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And as the fervent smith of yore</p>
+<p>Beat out the glowing blade,</p>
+<p>Nor wielded in the front of war</p>
+<p>The weapons that he made,</p>
+<p>But in the tower at home still plied his ringing trade;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page92"></a>92</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">So like a sword the son shall roam</p>
+<p>On nobler missions sent;</p>
+<p>And as the smith remained at home</p>
+<p>In peaceful turret pent,</p>
+<p>So sits the while at home the mother well content.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVI</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SICK CHILD</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p class="ct">CHILD</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">O Mother</span>, lay your hand on my brow!</p>
+<p>O mother, mother, where am I now?</p>
+<p>Why is the room so gaunt and great?</p>
+<p>Why am I lying awake so late?</p>
+
+<p class="ct s">MOTHER</p>
+
+<p>Fear not at all: the night is still.</p>
+<p>Nothing is here that means you ill&mdash;</p>
+<p>Nothing but lamps the whole town through,</p>
+<p>And never a child awake but you.</p>
+
+<p class="ct s">CHILD</p>
+
+<p>Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,</p>
+<p>Some of the things are so great and near,</p>
+<p>Some are so small and far away,</p>
+<p>I have a fear that I cannot say.</p>
+<p>What have I done, and what do I fear,</p>
+<p>And why are you crying, mother dear?</p>
+
+<p class="ct s">MOTHER</p>
+
+<p>Out in the city, sounds begin,</p>
+<p>Thank the kind God, the carts come in!</p>
+<p>An hour or two more, and God is so kind,</p>
+<p>The day shall be blue in the window-blind,</p>
+<p>Then shall my child go sweetly asleep,</p>
+<p>And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page93"></a>93</span></p>
+<h5>XXVII</h5>
+
+<h3>IN MEMORIAM F.A.S.</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Yet</span>, O stricken heart, remember, O remember</p>
+  <p class="i1">How of human days he lived the better part.</p>
+<p>April came to bloom and never dim December</p>
+  <p class="i1">Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being</p>
+  <p class="i1">Trod the flowery April blithely for a while,</p>
+<p>Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished,</p>
+  <p class="i1">You alone have crossed the melancholy stream,</p>
+<p>Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished</p>
+  <p class="i1">Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.</p>
+
+<p class="s">All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a name.</p>
+<p>Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came.</p>
+
+<p class="sc f80 s mi2">Davos, 1881.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MY FATHER</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Peace</span> and her huge invasion to these shores</p>
+<p>Puts daily home; innumerable sails</p>
+<p>Dawn on the far horizon and draw near;</p>
+<p>Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes</p>
+<p>To our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page94"></a>94</span></p>
+<p>Not now obscure, since thou and thine are there,</p>
+<p>And bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef,</p>
+<p>The long, resounding foreland, Pharos stands.</p>
+
+<p class="s">These are thy works, O father, these thy crown;</p>
+<p>Whether on high the air be pure, they shine</p>
+<p>Along the yellowing sunset, and all night</p>
+<p>Among the unnumbered stars of God they shine;</p>
+<p>Or whether fogs arise and far and wide</p>
+<p>The low sea-level drown&mdash;each finds a tongue</p>
+<p>And all night long the tolling bell resounds:</p>
+<p>So shine, so toll, till night be overpast,</p>
+<p>Till the stars vanish, till the sun return,</p>
+<p>And in the haven rides the fleet secure.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In the first hour, the seaman in his skiff</p>
+<p>Moves through the unmoving bay, to where the town</p>
+<p>Its earliest smoke into the air upbreathes,</p>
+<p>And the rough hazels climb along the beach.</p>
+<p>To the tugged oar the distant echo speaks.</p>
+<p>The ship lies resting, where by reef and roost</p>
+<p>Thou and thy lights have led her like a child.</p>
+
+<p class="s">This hast thou done, and I&mdash;can I be base?</p>
+<p>I must arise, O father, and to port</p>
+<p>Some lost, complaining seaman pilot home.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIX</h5>
+
+<h3>IN THE STATES</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">With</span> half a heart I wander here</p>
+  <p class="i1">As from an age gone by</p>
+<p>A brother&mdash;yet though young in years,</p>
+  <p class="i1">An elder brother, I.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page95"></a>95</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">You speak another tongue than mine,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Though both were English born.</p>
+<p>I towards the night of time decline</p>
+  <p class="i1">You mount into the morn.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Youth shall grow great and strong and free,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But age must still decay:</p>
+<p>To-morrow for the States,&mdash;for me,</p>
+  <p class="i1">England and Yesterday.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">San Francisco.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXX</h5>
+
+<h3>A PORTRAIT</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I am</span> a kind of farthing dip,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Unfriendly to the nose and eyes;</p>
+<p>A blue-behinded ape, I skip</p>
+  <p class="i1">Upon the trees of Paradise.</p>
+
+<p class="s">At mankind&rsquo;s feast, I take my place</p>
+  <p class="i1">In solemn, sanctimonious state,</p>
+<p>And have the air of saying grace</p>
+  <p class="i1">While I defile the dinner-plate.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I am &ldquo;the smiler with the knife,&rdquo;</p>
+  <p class="i1">The battener upon garbage, I&mdash;</p>
+<p>Dear Heaven, with such a rancid life</p>
+  <p class="i1">Were it not better far to die?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Yet still, about the human pale,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I love to scamper, love to race,</p>
+<p>To swing by my irreverent tail</p>
+  <p class="i1">All over the most holy place;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page96"></a>96</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">And when at length, some golden day,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The unfailing sportsman, aiming at,</p>
+<p>Shall bag, me&mdash;all the world shall say:</p>
+  <p class="i1"><i>Thank God, and there&rsquo;s an end of that!</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXI</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Sing</span> clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still,</p>
+<p>Sing truer or no longer sing!</p>
+<p>No more the voice of melancholy Jaques</p>
+<p>To wake a weeping echo in the hill;</p>
+<p>But as the boy, the pirate of the spring,</p>
+<p>From the green elm a living linnet takes,</p>
+<p>One natural verse recapture&mdash;then be still.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXII</h5>
+
+<h3>A CAMP<a name="FnAnchor_1b" href="#Footnote_1b"><span class="sp">1</span></a></h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> bed was made, the room was fit,</p>
+<p>By punctual eve the stars were lit;</p>
+<p>The air was still, the water ran,</p>
+<p>No need was there for maid or man,</p>
+<p>When we put up, my ass and I,</p>
+<p>At God&rsquo;s green caravanserai.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXIII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS<a name="FnAnchor_1b1" href="#Footnote_1b"><span class="sp">1</span></a></h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">We</span> travelled in the print of olden wars;</p>
+      <p class="i25">Yet all the land was green;</p>
+      <p class="i25">And love we found, and peace,</p>
+      <p class="i25">Where fire and war had been.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page97"></a>97</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">They pass and smile, the children of the sword&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i25">No more the sword they wield;</p>
+      <p class="i25">And O, how deep the corn</p>
+      <p class="i25">Along the battlefield!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr class="foot" />
+<div class="note">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1b" href="#FnAnchor_1b"><span class="fn">1</span></a> From &ldquo;Travels with a Donkey.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXIV</h5>
+
+<h3>SKERRYVORE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">For</span> love of lovely words, and for the sake</p>
+<p>Of those, my kinsmen and my countrymen,</p>
+<p>Who early and late in the windy ocean toiled</p>
+<p>To plant a star for seamen, where was then</p>
+<p>The surfy haunt of seals and cormorants:</p>
+<p>I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe</p>
+<p>The name of a strong tower.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXV</h5>
+
+<h3>SKERRYVORE</h3>
+
+<h6>THE PARALLEL</h6>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Here</span> all is sunny, and when the truant gull</p>
+<p>Skims the green level of the lawn, his wing</p>
+<p>Dispetals roses; here the house is framed</p>
+<p>Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain pine,</p>
+<p>Such clay as artists fashion and such wood</p>
+<p>As the tree-climbing urchin breaks. But there</p>
+<p>Eternal granite hewn from the living isle</p>
+<p>And dowelled with brute iron, rears a tower</p>
+<p>That from its wet foundation to its crown</p>
+<p>Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep of winds,</p>
+<p>Immovable, immortal, eminent.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page98"></a>98</span></p>
+<h5>XXXVI</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><i>My house</i>, I say. But hark to the sunny doves</p>
+<p>That make my roof the arena of their loves,</p>
+<p>That gyre about the gable all day long</p>
+<p>And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:</p>
+<p><i>Our house</i>, they say; and <i>mine</i>, the cat declares</p>
+<p>And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;</p>
+<p>And <i>mine</i> the dog, and rises stiff with wrath</p>
+<p>If any alien foot profane the path.</p>
+<p>So too the buck that trimmed my terraces,</p>
+<p>Our whilome gardener, called the garden his;</p>
+<p>Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode</p>
+<p>And his late kingdom, only from the road.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVII</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">My</span> body which my dungeon is,</p>
+<p>And yet my parks and palaces:&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Which is so great that there I go</p>
+<p>All the day long to and fro,</p>
+<p>And when the night begins to fall</p>
+<p>Throw down my bed and sleep, while all</p>
+<p>The building hums with wakefulness&mdash;</p>
+<p>Even as a child of savages</p>
+<p>When evening takes her on her way</p>
+<p>(She having roamed a summer&rsquo;s day</p>
+<p>Along the mountain-sides and scalp),</p>
+<p>Sleeps in an antre of that alp:&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Which is so broad and high that there,</p>
+<p>As in the topless fields of air,</p>
+<p>My fancy soars like to a kite</p>
+<p>And faints in the blue infinite:&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Which is so strong, my strongest throes</p>
+<p>And the rough world&rsquo;s besieging blows</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page99"></a>99</span></p>
+<p>Not break it, and so weak withal,</p>
+<p>Death ebbs and flows in its loose wall</p>
+<p>As the green sea in fishers&rsquo; nets,</p>
+<p>And tops its topmost parapets:&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Which is so wholly mine that I</p>
+<p>Can wield its whole artillery,</p>
+<p>And mine so little, that my soul</p>
+<p>Dwells in perpetual control,</p>
+<p>And I but think and speak and do</p>
+<p>As my dead fathers move me to:&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">If this born body of my bones</p>
+<p>The beggared soul so barely owns,</p>
+<p>What money passed from hand to hand,</p>
+<p>What creeping custom of the land,</p>
+<p>What deed of author or assign,</p>
+<p>Can make a house a thing of mine?</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVIII</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Say</span> not of me that weakly I declined</p>
+<p>The labours of my sires, and fled the sea,</p>
+<p>The towers we founded and the lamps we lit,</p>
+<p>To play at home with paper like a child.</p>
+<p>But rather say: <i>In the afternoon of time</i></p>
+<p><i>A strenuous family dusted from its hands</i></p>
+<p><i>The sand of granite, and beholding far</i></p>
+<p><i>Along the sounding coast its pyramids</i></p>
+<p><i>And tall memorials catch the dying sun,</i></p>
+<p><i>Smiled well content, and to this childish task</i></p>
+<p><i>Around the fire addressed its evening hours.</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page100"></a>100</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page101"></a>101</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>BOOK II</h3>
+
+<h3>IN SCOTS</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page102"></a>102</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page103"></a>103</span></p>
+<h3>NOTE TO BOOK II</h3>
+
+<p>The human conscience has fled of late the troublesome domain of
+conduct for what I should have supposed to be the less congenial
+field of art: there she may now be said to rage, and with special
+severity in all that touches dialect: so that in every novel the
+letters of the alphabet are tortured, and the reader wearied, to
+commemorate shades of mispronunciation. Now, spelling is an art
+of great difficulty in my eyes, and I am inclined to lean upon the
+printer, even in common practice, rather than to venture abroad
+upon new quests. And the Scots tongue has an orthography of its
+own, lacking neither &ldquo;authority nor author.&rdquo; Yet the temptation
+is great to lend a little guidance to the bewildered Englishman.
+Some simple phonetic artifice might defend your verses from
+barbarous mishandling, and yet not injure any vested interest.
+So it seems at first; but there are rocks ahead. Thus, if I wish
+the diphthong <i>ou</i> to have its proper value, I may write <i>oor</i> instead
+of <i>our</i>; many have done so and lived, and the pillars of the universe
+remained unshaken. But if I did so, and came presently to <i>doun</i>,
+which is the classical Scots spelling of the English <i>down</i>, I should
+begin to feel uneasy; and if I went on a little further, and came
+to a classical Scots word, like <i>stour</i> or <i>dour</i> or <i>clour</i>, I should know
+precisely where I was&mdash;that is to say, that I was out of sight of land
+on those high seas of spelling reform in which so many strong
+swimmers have toiled vainly. To some the situation is exhilarating;
+as for me, I give one bubbling cry and sink. The compromise
+at which I have arrived is indefensible, and I have no thought of
+trying to defend it. As I have stuck for the most part to the proper
+spelling, I append a table of some common vowel sounds which no
+one need consult; and just to prove that I belong to my age and
+have in me the stuff of a reformer, I have used modification marks
+throughout. Thus I can tell myself, not without pride, that I have
+added a fresh stumbling-block for English readers, and to a page of
+print in my native tongue have lent a new uncouthness. <i>Sed non
+nobis.</i></p>
+
+<p>I note again, that among our new dialecticians, the local habitat
+of every dialect is given to the square mile. I could not emulate
+this nicety if I desired; for I simply wrote my Scots as well as I
+was able, not caring if it hailed from Lauderdale or Angus, from the
+Mearns or Galloway; if I had ever heard a good word, I used it
+without shame; and when Scots was lacking, or the rhyme jibbed,
+I was glad (like my betters) to fall back on English. For all that,
+I own to a friendly feeling for the tongue of Fergusson and of Sir
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104"></a>104</span>
+Walter, both Edinburgh men; and I confess that Burns has always
+sounded in my ear like something partly foreign. And indeed I
+am from the Lothians myself; it is there I heard the language
+spoken about my childhood; and it is in the drawling Lothian
+voice that I repeat it to myself. Let the precisians call my speech
+that of the Lothians. And if it be not pure, alas! what matters it?
+The day draws near when this illustrious and malleable tongue
+shall be quite forgotten; and Burns&rsquo;s Ayrshire, and Dr. MacDonald&rsquo;s
+Aberdeen-awa&rsquo;, and Scott&rsquo;s brave, metropolitan utterance will be
+all equally the ghosts of speech. Till then I would love to have my
+hour as a native Maker, and be read by my own countryfolk in
+our own dying language; an ambition surely rather of the heart
+than of the head, so restricted as it is in prospect of endurance,
+so parochial in bounds of space.</p>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h3>TABLE OF COMMON SCOTTISH VOWEL SOUNDS</h3>
+
+<table style="margin-left: 0;" summary="text format"> <tr style="vertical-align: middle; "><td>
+
+<p>ae</p>
+<p>ai</p></td>
+
+<td><span style="font-size: 3em; font-family: 'Courier New'; color: #778899;">}</span></td>
+
+<td> = open A <i>as in</i> rare.</td></tr>
+
+<tr style="vertical-align: middle; "><td>
+<p>a&rsquo;</p>
+<p>au</p>
+<p>aw</p></td>
+
+<td><span style="font-size: 4em; font-family: 'Courier New'; color: #778899;">}</span></td>
+
+<td> = AW <i>as in</i> law.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+ea</td>
+
+<td>=</td>
+
+<td><p>open E <i>as in</i> mere, but this with exceptions, as heather =
+       heather, wean = wain, lear = lair.</p></td></tr>
+
+<tr style="vertical-align: middle; "><td>
+<p>ee</p>
+<p>ei</p>
+<p>ie</p></td>
+
+<td><span style="font-size: 4em; font-family: 'Courier New'; color: #778899;">}</span></td>
+
+<td> = open E <i>as in</i> mere.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>oa</td> <td>=</td> <td>open O <i>as in</i> more.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>ou</td> <td>=</td> <td>doubled O <i>as in</i> poor.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>ow</td> <td>=</td> <td>OW <i>as in</i> bower.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>u</td>  <td>=</td> <td>doubled O <i>as in</i> poor.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="3">ui <i>or</i> � before R = (say roughly) open A <i>as in</i> rare.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="3">ui <i>or</i> � before any other consonant = (say roughly) close I <i>as in</i> grin.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>y</td>  <td>=</td> <td>open I <i>as in</i> kite.</td></tr>
+
+<tr style="vertical-align: top; "><td>i</td>  <td>=</td> <td><p>pretty nearly what you please, much as in English, Heaven
+       guide the reader through that labyrinth! But in Scots it
+       dodges usually from the short I, <i>as in</i> grin, to the open E
+       <i>as in</i> mere. Find and blind, I may remark, are pronounced
+       to rhyme with the preterite of grin.</p></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page105"></a>105</span></p>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>THE MAKER TO POSTERITY</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Far</span> &rsquo;yont amang the years to be,</p>
+<p>When a&rsquo; we think, an&rsquo; a&rsquo; we see,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; a&rsquo; we luve, &rsquo;s been dung ajee</p>
+        <p class="i5">By time&rsquo;s rouch shouther,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; what was richt and wrang for me</p>
+        <p class="i5">Lies mangled throu&rsquo;ther,</p>
+
+<p class="s">It&rsquo;s possible&mdash;it&rsquo;s hardly mair&mdash;</p>
+<p>That some ane, ripin&rsquo; after lear&mdash;</p>
+<p>Some auld professor or young heir,</p>
+        <p class="i5">If still there&rsquo;s either&mdash;</p>
+<p>May find an&rsquo; read me, an&rsquo; be sair</p>
+        <p class="i5">Perplexed, puir brither!</p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;What tongue does your auld bookie speak?&rdquo;</i></p>
+<p>He&rsquo;ll speir; an&rsquo; I, his mou&rsquo; to steik:</p>
+<p><i>&ldquo;No&rsquo; bein&rsquo; fit to write in Greek,</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>I wrote in Lallan,</i></p>
+<p><i>Dear to my heart as the peat-reek,</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>Auld as Tantallon.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;Few spak it than, an&rsquo; noo there&rsquo;s nane.</i></p>
+<p><i>My puir auld sangs lie a&rsquo; their lane,</i></p>
+<p><i>Their sense, that aince was braw an&rsquo; plain,</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>Tint a&rsquo;thegither,</i></p>
+<p><i>Like runes upon a standin&rsquo; stane</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>Amang the heather.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page106"></a>106</span></p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;But think not you the brae to speel;</i></p>
+<p><i>You, tae, maun chow the bitter peel;</i></p>
+<p><i>For a&rsquo; your lear, for a&rsquo; your skeel,</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>Ye&rsquo;re nane sae lucky;</i></p>
+<p><i>An&rsquo; things are mebbe waur than weel</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>For you, my buckie.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;The hale concern (baith hens an&rsquo; eggs,</i></p>
+<p><i>Baith books an&rsquo; writers, stars an&rsquo; clegs)</i></p>
+<p><i>Noo stachers upon lowsent legs</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>An&rsquo; wears awa&rsquo;;</i></p>
+<p><i>The tack o&rsquo; mankind, near the dregs,</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>Rins unco law.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;Your book, that in some braw new tongue</i></p>
+<p><i>Ye wrote or prentit, preached or sung,</i></p>
+<p><i>Will still be just a bairn, an&rsquo; young</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>In fame an&rsquo; years,</i></p>
+<p><i>Whan the hale planet&rsquo;s guts are dung</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>About your ears;</i></p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;An&rsquo; you, sair gruppin&rsquo; to a spar</i></p>
+<p><i>Or whammled wi&rsquo; some bleezin&rsquo; star,</i></p>
+<p><i>Cryin&rsquo; to ken whaur deil ye are,</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>Hame, France, or Flanders&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>Whang sindry like a railway car</i></p>
+        <p class="i5"><i>An&rsquo; flie in danders.&rdquo;</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>ILLE TERRARUM</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Frae</span> nirly, nippin&rsquo;, Eas&rsquo;lan&rsquo; breeze,</p>
+<p>Frae Norlan&rsquo; snaw, an&rsquo; haar o&rsquo; seas,</p>
+<p>Weel happit in your gairden trees,</p>
+        <p class="i4">A bonny bit,</p>
+<p>Atween the muckle Pentland&rsquo;s knees,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Secure ye sit.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page107"></a>107</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Beeches an&rsquo; aiks entwine their theek,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; firs, a stench, auld-farrant clique.</p>
+<p>A simmer day, your chimleys reek,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Couthy and bien;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; here an&rsquo; there your windies keek</p>
+        <p class="i4">Amang the green.</p>
+
+<p class="s">A pickle plats an&rsquo; paths an&rsquo; posies,</p>
+<p>A wheen auld gillyflowers an&rsquo; roses:</p>
+<p>A ring o&rsquo; wa&rsquo;s the hale encloses</p>
+        <p class="i4">Frae sheep or men:</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; there the auld housie beeks an&rsquo; dozes,</p>
+        <p class="i4">A&rsquo; by her lane.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The gairdner crooks his weary back</p>
+<p>A&rsquo; day in the pitaty-track,</p>
+<p>Or mebbe stops a while to crack</p>
+        <p class="i4">Wi&rsquo; Jane the cook,</p>
+<p>Or at some buss, worm-eaten-black,</p>
+        <p class="i4">To gie a look.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Frae the high hills the curlew ca&rsquo;s;</p>
+<p>The sheep gang baaing by the wa&rsquo;s;</p>
+<p>Or whiles a clan o&rsquo; roosty craws</p>
+        <p class="i4">Cangle thegither;</p>
+<p>The wild bees seek the gairden raws,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Weariet wi&rsquo; heather.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Or in the gloamin&rsquo; douce an&rsquo; grey</p>
+<p>The sweet-throat mavis tunes her lay;</p>
+<p>The herd comes linkin&rsquo; doun the brae;</p>
+        <p class="i4">An&rsquo; by degrees</p>
+<p>The muckle siller m�ne maks way</p>
+        <p class="i4">Amang the trees.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page108"></a>108</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Here aft hae I, wi&rsquo; sober heart,</p>
+<p>For meditation sat apairt,</p>
+<p>When orra loves or kittle art</p>
+        <p class="i4">Perplexed my mind;</p>
+<p>Here socht a balm for ilka smart</p>
+        <p class="i4">O&rsquo; humankind.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here aft, weel neukit by my lane,</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; Horace, or perhaps Montaigne,</p>
+<p>The mornin&rsquo; hours hae come an&rsquo; gane</p>
+        <p class="i4">Ab�ne my heid&mdash;</p>
+<p>I wadna gi&rsquo;en a chucky-stane</p>
+        <p class="i4">For a&rsquo; I&rsquo;d read.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But noo the auld city, street by street,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; winter fu&rsquo; o&rsquo; snaw an&rsquo; sleet,</p>
+<p>A while shut in my gangrel feet</p>
+        <p class="i4">An&rsquo; goavin&rsquo; mettle;</p>
+<p>Noo is the soopit ingle sweet,</p>
+        <p class="i4">An&rsquo; liltin&rsquo; kettle.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; noo the winter winds complain;</p>
+<p>Cauld lies the glaur in ilka lane;</p>
+<p>On draigled hizzie, tautit wean</p>
+        <p class="i4">An&rsquo; drucken lads,</p>
+<p>In the mirk nicht, the winter rain</p>
+        <p class="i4">Dribbles an&rsquo; blads.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Whan bugles frae the Castle rock,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; beaten drums wi&rsquo; dowie shock,</p>
+<p>Wauken, at cauld-rife sax o&rsquo;clock,</p>
+        <p class="i4">My chitterin&rsquo; frame,</p>
+<p>I mind me on the kintry cock,</p>
+        <p class="i4">The kintry hame.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page109"></a>109</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I mind me on yon bonny bield;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; Fancy traivels far afield</p>
+<p>To gaither a&rsquo; that gairdens yield</p>
+        <p class="i4">O&rsquo; sun an&rsquo; Simmer:</p>
+<p>To hearten up a dowie chield,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Fancy&rsquo;s the limmer!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> aince Aprile has fairly come,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; birds may bigg in winter&rsquo;s lum,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; pleesure&rsquo;s spreid for a&rsquo; and some</p>
+        <p class="i4">O&rsquo; whatna state,</p>
+<p>Love, wi&rsquo; her auld recruitin&rsquo; drum,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Than taks the gate.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The heart plays dunt wi&rsquo; main an&rsquo; micht;</p>
+<p>The lasses&rsquo; een are a&rsquo; sae bricht,</p>
+<p>Their dresses are sae braw an&rsquo; ticht,</p>
+        <p class="i4">The bonny birdies!&mdash;</p>
+<p>Puir winter virtue at the sicht</p>
+        <p class="i4">Gangs heels ower hurdies.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; aye as love frae land to land</p>
+<p>Tirls the drum wi&rsquo; eident hand,</p>
+<p>A&rsquo; men collect at her command,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Toun-bred or land&rsquo;art,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; follow in a denty band</p>
+        <p class="i4">Her gaucy standart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; I, wha sang o&rsquo; rain an&rsquo; snaw,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; weary winter weel awa&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>Noo busk me in a jacket braw,</p>
+        <p class="i4">An&rsquo; tak my place</p>
+<p>I&rsquo; the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Wi&rsquo; smilin&rsquo; face.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page110"></a>110</span></p>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>A MILE AN&rsquo; A BITTOCK</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">A mile</span> an&rsquo; a bittock, a mile or twa,</p>
+<p>Ab�ne the burn, ayont the law,</p>
+<p>Davie an&rsquo; Donal&rsquo; an&rsquo; Cherlie an&rsquo; a&rsquo;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Ane went hame wi&rsquo; the ither, an&rsquo; then</p>
+<p>The ither went hame wi&rsquo; the ither twa men,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; baith wad return him the service again,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly!</p>
+
+<p class="s">The clocks were chappin&rsquo; in house an&rsquo; ha&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>Eleeven, twal an&rsquo; ane an&rsquo; twa;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the guidman&rsquo;s face was turnt to the wa&rsquo;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly!</p>
+
+<p class="s">A wind got up frae affa the sea,</p>
+<p>It blew the stars as clear&rsquo;s could be,</p>
+<p>It blew in the een of a&rsquo; o&rsquo; the three,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Noo, Davie was first to get sleep in his head,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The best o&rsquo; frien&rsquo;s maun twine,&rdquo; he said;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m weariet, an&rsquo; here I&rsquo;m awa&rsquo; to my bed.&rdquo;</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Twa o&rsquo; them walkin&rsquo; an&rsquo; crackin&rsquo; their lane,</p>
+<p>The mornin&rsquo; licht cam grey an&rsquo; plain,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the birds they yammert on stick an&rsquo; stane,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly!</p>
+
+<p class="s">O years ayont, O years awa&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>My lads, ye&rsquo;ll mind whate&rsquo;er befa&rsquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>My lads, ye&rsquo;ll mind on the bield o&rsquo; the law,</p>
+    <p class="i2">When the m�ne was shinin&rsquo; clearly.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page111"></a>111</span></p>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> clinkum-clank o&rsquo; Sabbath bells</p>
+<p>Noo to the hoastin&rsquo; rookery swells,</p>
+<p>Noo faintin&rsquo; laigh in shady dells,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Sounds far an&rsquo; near,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; through the simmer kintry tells</p>
+      <p class="i3">Its tale o&rsquo; cheer.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; noo, to that melodious play,</p>
+<p>A&rsquo; deidly awn the quiet sway&mdash;</p>
+<p>A&rsquo; ken their solemn holiday,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Bestial an&rsquo; human,</p>
+<p>The singin&rsquo; lintie on the brae,</p>
+      <p class="i3">The restin&rsquo; plou&rsquo;man.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He, mair than a&rsquo; the lave o&rsquo; men,</p>
+<p>His week completit joys to ken;</p>
+<p>Half-dressed, he daunders out an&rsquo; in,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Perplext wi&rsquo; leisure;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; his raxt limbs he&rsquo;ll rax again</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; painf�&rsquo; pleesure.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The steerin&rsquo; mither strang afit</p>
+<p>Noo shoos the bairnies but a bit;</p>
+<p>Noo cries them ben, their Sinday sh�it</p>
+      <p class="i3">To scart upon them,</p>
+<p>Or sweeties in their pooch to pit,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; blessin&rsquo;s on them.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The lasses, clean frae tap to taes,</p>
+<p>Are busked in crunklin&rsquo; underclaes;</p>
+<p>The gartened hose, the weel-fllled stays,</p>
+      <p class="i3">The nakit shift,</p>
+<p>A&rsquo; bleached on bonny greens for days,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; white&rsquo;s the drift.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page112"></a>112</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; noo to face the kirkward mile:</p>
+<p>The guidman&rsquo;s hat o&rsquo; dacent style,</p>
+<p>The blackit shoon we noo maun fyle</p>
+      <p class="i3">As white&rsquo;s the miller:</p>
+<p>A waef�&rsquo; peety tae, to spile</p>
+      <p class="i3">The warth o&rsquo; siller.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Our Marg&rsquo;et, aye sae keen to crack,</p>
+<p>Douce-stappin&rsquo; in the stoury track,</p>
+<p>Her emeralt goun a&rsquo; kiltit back</p>
+      <p class="i3">Frae snawy coats,</p>
+<p>White-ankled, leads the kirkward pack</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; Dauvit Groats.</p>
+
+<p class="s">A thocht ahint, in runkled breeks,</p>
+<p>A&rsquo; spiled wi&rsquo; lyin&rsquo; by for weeks,</p>
+<p>The guidman follows closs, an&rsquo; cleiks</p>
+      <p class="i3">The sonsie missis;</p>
+<p>His sarious face at aince bespeaks</p>
+      <p class="i3">The day that this is.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And aye an&rsquo; while we nearer draw</p>
+<p>To whaur the kirkton lies alaw,</p>
+<p>Mair neebours, comin&rsquo; saft an&rsquo; slaw</p>
+      <p class="i3">Frae here an&rsquo; there,</p>
+<p>The thicker thrang the gate an&rsquo; caw</p>
+      <p class="i3">The stour in air.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But hark! the bells frae nearer clang;</p>
+<p>To rowst the slaw their sides they bang;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; see! black coats a&rsquo;ready thrang</p>
+      <p class="i3">The green kirkyaird;</p>
+<p>And at the yett, the chestnuts spang</p>
+      <p class="i3">That brocht the laird.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page113"></a>113</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The solemn elders at the plate</p>
+<p>Stand drinkin&rsquo; deep the pride o&rsquo; state:</p>
+<p>The practised hands as gash an&rsquo; great</p>
+      <p class="i3">As Lords o&rsquo; Session;</p>
+<p>The later named, a wee thing blate</p>
+      <p class="i3">In their expression.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The prentit stanes that mark the deid,</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; lengthened lip, the sarious read;</p>
+<p>Syne wag a moraleesin&rsquo; heid,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; then an&rsquo; there</p>
+<p>Their hirplin&rsquo; practice an&rsquo; their creed</p>
+      <p class="i3">Try hard to square.</p>
+
+<p class="s">It&rsquo;s here our Merren lang has lain,</p>
+<p>A wee bewast the table-stane;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; yon&rsquo;s the grave o&rsquo; Sandy Blane;</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; further ower,</p>
+<p>The mither&rsquo;s brithers, dacent men!</p>
+      <p class="i3">Lie a&rsquo; the fower.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here the guidman sall bide awee</p>
+<p>To dwall amang the deid; to see</p>
+<p>Auld faces clear in fancy&rsquo;s e&rsquo;e;</p>
+      <p class="i3">Belike to hear</p>
+<p>Auld voices fa&rsquo;in&rsquo; saft an&rsquo; slee</p>
+      <p class="i3">On fancy&rsquo;s ear.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thus, on the day o&rsquo; solemn things,</p>
+<p>The bell that in the steeple swings</p>
+<p>To fauld a scaittered faim&rsquo;ly rings</p>
+      <p class="i3">Its walcome screed;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; just a wee thing nearer brings</p>
+      <p class="i3">The quick an&rsquo; deid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page114"></a>114</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">But noo the bell is ringin&rsquo; in;</p>
+<p>To tak their places, folk begin;</p>
+<p>The minister himsel&rsquo; will sh�ne</p>
+      <p class="i3">Be up the gate,</p>
+<p>Filled fu&rsquo; wi&rsquo; clavers about sin</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; man&rsquo;s estate.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The t�nes are up&mdash;<i>French</i>, to be sh�re,</p>
+<p>The faithf�&rsquo; <i>French</i>, an&rsquo; twa-three mair;</p>
+<p>The auld prezentor, hoastin&rsquo; sair,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wales out the portions,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; yirks the t�ne into the air</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; queer contortions.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Follows the prayer, the readin&rsquo; next,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; than the fisslin&rsquo; for the text&mdash;</p>
+<p>The twa-three last to find it, vext</p>
+      <p class="i3">But kind o&rsquo; proud;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; than the peppermints are raxed,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; southernwood.</p>
+
+<p class="s">For noo&rsquo;s the time whan pows are seen</p>
+<p>Nid-noddin&rsquo; like a mandareen;</p>
+<p>When tenty mithers stap a preen</p>
+      <p class="i3">In sleepin&rsquo; weans;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; nearly half the parochine</p>
+      <p class="i3">Forget their pains.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There&rsquo;s just a waukrif twa or three:</p>
+<p>Thrawn commentautors sweer to &rsquo;gree,</p>
+<p>Weans glowrin&rsquo; at the bumlin&rsquo; bee</p>
+      <p class="i3">On windie-glasses,</p>
+<p>Or lads that tak a keek a-glee</p>
+      <p class="i3">At sonsie lasses.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page115"></a>115</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Himsel&rsquo;, meanwhile, frae whaur he cocks</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; bobs belaw the soundin&rsquo;-box,</p>
+<p>The treasures of his words unlocks</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; prodigality,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; deals some unco dingin&rsquo; knocks</p>
+      <p class="i3">To infidality.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Wi&rsquo; sappy unction, hoo he burkes</p>
+<p>The hopes o&rsquo; men that trust in works,</p>
+<p>Expounds the fau&rsquo;ts o&rsquo; ither kirks,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; shaws the best o&rsquo; them</p>
+<p>No&rsquo; muckle better than mere Turks,</p>
+      <p class="i3">When a&rsquo;s confessed o&rsquo; them.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Bethankit! what a bonny creed!</p>
+<p>What mair would ony Christian need?&mdash;</p>
+<p>The braw words rummle ower his heid,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Nor steer the sleeper;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; in their restin&rsquo; graves, the deid</p>
+      <p class="i3">Sleep aye the deeper.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="quote">
+<p><span class="sc">Note.</span>&mdash;It may be guessed by some that I had a certain parish in my
+eye, and this makes it proper I should add a word of disclamation.
+In my time there have been two ministers in that parish. Of
+the first I have a special reason to speak well, even had there been
+any to think ill. The second I have often met in private and long
+(in the due phrase) &ldquo;sat under&rdquo; in his church, and neither here
+nor there have I heard an unkind or ugly word upon his lips. The
+preacher of the text had thus no original in that particular parish;
+but when I was a boy, he might have been observed in many others;
+he was then (like the schoolmaster) abroad; and by recent advices,
+it would seem he has not yet entirely disappeared.&mdash;[R. L. S.]</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page116"></a>116</span></p>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SPAEWIFE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p>O, I wad like to ken&mdash;to the beggar-wife says I&mdash;</p>
+<p>Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; siller, that&rsquo;s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi&rsquo;e.</p>
+<p>&mdash;<i>It&rsquo;s gey an&rsquo; easy speirin&rsquo;</i>, says the beggar-wife to me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O, I wad like to ken&mdash;to the beggar-wife says I&mdash;</p>
+<p>Hoo a&rsquo; things come to be whaur we find them when we try.</p>
+<p>The lassies in their claes an&rsquo; the fishes in the sea.</p>
+<p>&mdash;<i>It&rsquo;s gey an&rsquo; easy speirin&rsquo;</i>, says the beggar-wife to me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O&rsquo; I wad like to ken&mdash;to the beggar-wife says I&mdash;</p>
+<p>Why lads are a&rsquo; to sell an&rsquo; lasses a&rsquo; to buy;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.</p>
+<p>&mdash;<i>It&rsquo;s gey an&rsquo; easy speirin&rsquo;</i>, says the beggar-wife to me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O, I wad like to ken&mdash;to the beggar-wife says I&mdash;</p>
+<p>Gin death&rsquo;s as sh�re to men as killin&rsquo; is to kye,</p>
+<p>Why God has filled the yearth sae fu&rsquo; o&rsquo; tasty things to pree.</p>
+<p>&mdash;<i>It&rsquo;s gey an&rsquo; easy speirin&rsquo;</i>, says the beggar-wife to me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O, I wad like to ken&mdash;to the beggar-wife says I&mdash;</p>
+<p>The reason o&rsquo; the cause an&rsquo; the wherefore o&rsquo; the why,</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e&rsquo;e.</p>
+<p>&mdash;<i>It&rsquo;s gey an&rsquo; easy speirin&rsquo;</i>, says the beggar-wife to me.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE BLAST&mdash;1875</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It&rsquo;s</span> rainin&rsquo;. Weet&rsquo;s the gairden sod,</p>
+<p>Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod&mdash;</p>
+<p>A maist unceevil thing o&rsquo; God</p>
+      <p class="i3">In mid July&mdash;</p>
+<p>If ye&rsquo;ll just curse the sneckdraw, dod!</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; sae wull I!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page117"></a>117</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">He&rsquo;s a braw place in Heev&rsquo;n, ye ken,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; lea&rsquo;s us puir, forjaskit men</p>
+<p>Clamjamfried in the but and ben</p>
+      <p class="i3">He ca&rsquo;s the earth&mdash;</p>
+<p>A wee bit inconvenient den</p>
+      <p class="i3">No muckle worth;</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; whiles, at orra times, keeks out,</p>
+<p>Sees what puir mankind are about;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; if He can, I&rsquo;ve little doubt,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Upsets their plans;</p>
+<p>He hates a&rsquo; mankind, brainch and root,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; a&rsquo; that&rsquo;s man&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; whiles, whan they tak&rsquo; heart again,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; life i&rsquo; the sun looks braw an&rsquo; plain,</p>
+<p>Doun comes a jaw o&rsquo; droukin&rsquo; rain</p>
+      <p class="i3">Upon their honours&mdash;</p>
+<p>God sends a spate out ower the plain,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Or mebbe thun&rsquo;ers.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Lord safe us, life&rsquo;s an unco thing!</p>
+<p>Simmer and Winter, Yule an&rsquo; Spring,</p>
+<p>The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring</p>
+      <p class="i3">A feck o&rsquo; trouble.</p>
+<p>I wadna try &rsquo;t to be a king&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">No, nor for double.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But since we&rsquo;re in it, willy-nilly,</p>
+<p>We maun be watchf�&rsquo;, wise an&rsquo; skilly,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; no&rsquo; mind ony ither billy,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Lassie nor God.</p>
+<p>But drink&mdash;that&rsquo;s my best counsel till &rsquo;e;</p>
+      <p class="i3">Sae tak&rsquo; the nod.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page118"></a>118</span></p>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE COUNTERBLAST&mdash;1886</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">My</span> bonny man, the warld, it&rsquo;s true,</p>
+<p>Was made for neither me nor you;</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s just a place to warstle through,</p>
+      <p class="i3">As Job confessed o&rsquo;t;</p>
+<p>And aye the best that we&rsquo;ll can do</p>
+      <p class="i3">Is mak&rsquo; the best o&rsquo;t.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There&rsquo;s rowth o&rsquo; wrang, I&rsquo;m free to say:</p>
+<p>The simmer brunt, the winter blae,</p>
+<p>The face of earth a&rsquo; fyled wi&rsquo; clay</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; dour wi&rsquo; chuckies,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; life a rough an&rsquo; land&rsquo;art play</p>
+      <p class="i3">For country buckies.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; food&rsquo;s anither name for clart;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; beasts an&rsquo; brambles bite an&rsquo; scart;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; what would <span class="sc">WE</span> be like, my heart!</p>
+      <p class="i3">If bared o&rsquo; claethin&rsquo;?</p>
+<p>&mdash;Aweel, I canna mend your cart:</p>
+      <p class="i3">It&rsquo;s that or naethin&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p class="s">A feck o&rsquo; folk frae first to last</p>
+<p>Have through this queer experience passed;</p>
+<p>Twa-three, I ken, just damn an&rsquo; blast</p>
+      <p class="i3">The hale transaction;</p>
+<p>But twa-three ithers, east an&rsquo; wast,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Fand satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Whaur braid the briery muirs expand,</p>
+<p>A waef�&rsquo; an&rsquo; a weary land,</p>
+<p>The bumble-bees, a gowden band,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Are blithely hingin&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; there the canty wanderer fand</p>
+      <p class="i3">The laverock singin&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page119"></a>119</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Trout in the burn grow great as herr&rsquo;n&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>The simple sheep can find their fair&rsquo;n&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>The winds blaws clean about the cairn</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; caller air;</p>
+<p>The muircock an&rsquo; the barefit bairn</p>
+      <p class="i3">Are happy there.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sic-like the howes o&rsquo; life to some:</p>
+<p>Green loans whaur they ne&rsquo;er fash their thumb,</p>
+<p>But mark the muckle winds that come,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Soopin&rsquo; an&rsquo; cool,</p>
+<p>Or hear the powrin&rsquo; burnie drum</p>
+      <p class="i3">In the shilfa&rsquo;s pool.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The evil wi&rsquo; the guid they tak&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>They ca&rsquo; a grey thing grey, no&rsquo; black;</p>
+<p>To a steigh brae a stubborn back</p>
+      <p class="i3">Addressin&rsquo; daily;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; up the rude, unbieldy track</p>
+      <p class="i3">O&rsquo; life, gang gaily.</p>
+
+<p class="s">What you would like&rsquo;s a palace ha&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>Or Sinday parlour dink an&rsquo; braw</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; a&rsquo; things ordered in a raw</p>
+      <p class="i3">By denty leddies.</p>
+<p>Weel, then, ye canna hae&rsquo;t: that&rsquo;s a&rsquo;</p>
+      <p class="i3">That to be said is.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; since at life ye&rsquo;ve ta&rsquo;en the grue,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; winna blithely hirsle through,</p>
+<p>Ye&rsquo;ve fund the very thing to do&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">That&rsquo;s to drink speerit;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; sh�ne we&rsquo;ll hear the last o&rsquo; you&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; blithe to hear it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page120"></a>120</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The shoon ye coft, the life ye lead,</p>
+<p>Ithers will heir when aince ye&rsquo;re deid;</p>
+<p>They&rsquo;ll heir your tasteless bite o&rsquo; breid,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; find it sappy;</p>
+<p>They&rsquo;ll to your dulef�&rsquo; house succeed,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; there be happy.</p>
+
+<p class="s">As whan a glum an&rsquo; fractious wean</p>
+<p>Has sat an&rsquo; sullened by his lane</p>
+<p>Till, wi&rsquo; a rowstin&rsquo; skelp, he&rsquo;s ta&rsquo;en</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; shoo&rsquo;d to bed&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>The ither bairns a&rsquo; fa&rsquo; to play&rsquo;n&rsquo;,</p>
+      <p class="i3">As gleg&rsquo;s a gled.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IX</h5>
+
+<h3>THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It&rsquo;s</span> strange that God should fash to frame</p>
+    <p class="i2">The yearth and lift sae hie,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; clean forget to explain the same</p>
+    <p class="i2">To a gentleman like me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thae gusty, donnered ither folk,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Their weird they weel may dree;</p>
+<p>But why present a pig in a poke</p>
+    <p class="i2">To a gentleman like me?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thae ither folk their parritch eat</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; sup their sugared tea;</p>
+<p>But the mind is no&rsquo; to be wyled wi&rsquo; meat</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi&rsquo; a gentleman like me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thae ither folk, they court their joes</p>
+    <p class="i2">At gloamin&rsquo; on the lea;</p>
+<p>But they&rsquo;re made of a commoner clay, I suppose,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Than a gentleman like me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page121"></a>121</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Thae ither folk, for richt or wrang,</p>
+  <p class="i2">They suffer, bleed, or dee;</p>
+<p>But a&rsquo; thir things are an emp&rsquo;y sang</p>
+  <p class="i2">To a gentleman like me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">It&rsquo;s a different thing that I demand,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Tho&rsquo; humble as can be&mdash;</p>
+<p>A statement fair in my Maker&rsquo;s hand</p>
+  <p class="i2">To a gentleman like me:</p>
+
+<p class="s">A clear account writ fair an&rsquo; broad,</p>
+  <p class="i2">An&rsquo; a plain apologie;</p>
+<p>Or the deevil a ceevil word to God</p>
+  <p class="i2">From a gentleman like me.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>X</h5>
+
+<h3>THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS</h3>
+<h3>DINNER CLUB</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dear</span> Thamson class, whaure&rsquo;er I gang</p>
+<p>It aye comes ower me wi&rsquo; a spang:</p>
+<p><i>&ldquo;Lordsake! thae Thamson lads&mdash;(deil hang</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>Or else Lord mend them!)&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>An&rsquo; that wanchancy annual sang</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>I ne&rsquo;er can send them!&rdquo;</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">Straucht, at the name, a trusty tyke,</p>
+<p>My conscience girrs ahint the dyke;</p>
+<p>Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke</p>
+      <p class="i3">To find a rhyme t&rsquo; ye;</p>
+<p>Pleased&mdash;although mebbe no&rsquo; pleased-like&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">To gie my time t&rsquo; ye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page122"></a>122</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;<i>Weel</i>,&rdquo; an&rsquo; says you, wi&rsquo; heavin&rsquo; breist,</p>
+<p><i>&ldquo;Sae far, sae guid, but what&rsquo;s the neist?</i></p>
+<p><i>Yearly we gather to the feast,</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>A&rsquo; hopef�&rsquo; men&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>Yearly we skelloch &rsquo;Hang the beast&mdash;</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>Nae sang again!&rsquo;&rdquo;</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">My lads, an&rsquo; what am I to say?</p>
+<p>Ye sh�rely ken the Muse&rsquo;s way:</p>
+<p>Yestreen, as gleg&rsquo;s a tyke&mdash;the day,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Thrawn like a cuddy:</p>
+<p>Her conduc&rsquo;, that to her&rsquo;s a play,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Deith to a body.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Aft whan I sat an&rsquo; made my mane,</p>
+<p>Aft whan I laboured burd-alane</p>
+<p>Fishin&rsquo; for rhymes an&rsquo; findin&rsquo; nane,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Or nane were fit for ye&mdash;</p>
+<p>Ye judged me cauld&rsquo;s a chucky-stane&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">No car&rsquo;n&rsquo; a bit for ye!</p>
+
+<p class="s">But saw ye ne&rsquo;er some pingein&rsquo; bairn</p>
+<p>As weak as a pitaty-par&rsquo;n&rsquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Less �sed wi&rsquo; guidin&rsquo; horse-shoe aim</p>
+      <p class="i3">Than steerin&rsquo; crowdie&mdash;</p>
+<p>Packed aff his lane, by moss an&rsquo; cairn,</p>
+      <p class="i3">To ca&rsquo; the howdie.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Wae&rsquo;s me, for the puir callant than!</p>
+<p>He wambles like a poke o&rsquo; bran,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the lowse rein, as hard&rsquo;s he can,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Pu&rsquo;s, trem&rsquo;lin&rsquo; handit;</p>
+<p>Till, blaff! upon his hinderlan&rsquo;</p>
+      <p class="i3">Behauld him landit.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page123"></a>123</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Sic-like&mdash;I awn the weary fac&rsquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Whan on my muse the gate I tak&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; see her gleed e&rsquo;e raxin&rsquo; back</p>
+      <p class="i3">To keek ahint her;&mdash;</p>
+<p>To me, the brig o&rsquo; Heev&rsquo;n gangs black</p>
+      <p class="i3">As blackest winter.</p>
+
+<p class="s"><i>&ldquo;Lordsake! we&rsquo;re aff,&rdquo;</i> thinks I, <i>&ldquo;but whaur?</i></p>
+<p><i>On what abhorred an&rsquo; whinny scaur,</i></p>
+<p><i>Or whammled in what sea o&rsquo; glaur,</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>Will she desert me?</i></p>
+<p><i>An&rsquo; will she just disgrace? or waur&mdash;</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>Will she no&rsquo; hurt me?&rdquo;</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">Kittle the qu�re! But at least</p>
+<p>The day I&rsquo;ve backed the fashious beast,</p>
+<p>While she, wi&rsquo; mony a spang an&rsquo; reist,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Flang heels ower bonnet;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; a&rsquo; triumphant&mdash;for your feast,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Hae! there&rsquo;s your sonnet!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XI</h5>
+
+<h3>EMBRO HIE KIRK</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> Lord Himsel&rsquo; in former days</p>
+<p>Waled out the proper tunes for praise</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; named the proper kind o&rsquo; claes</p>
+      <p class="i3">For folk to preach in:</p>
+<p>Preceese and in the chief o&rsquo; ways</p>
+      <p class="i3">Important teachin&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He ordered a&rsquo; things late and air&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>He ordered folk to stand at prayer</p>
+<p>(Although I canna just mind where</p>
+      <p class="i3">He gave the warnin&rsquo;),</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; pit pomatum on their hair</p>
+      <p class="i3">On Sabbath mornin&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page124"></a>124</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The hale o&rsquo; life by His commands</p>
+<p>Was ordered to a body&rsquo;s hands;</p>
+<p>But see! this <i>corpus juris</i> stands</p>
+      <p class="i3">By a&rsquo; forgotten;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; God&rsquo;s religion in a&rsquo; lands</p>
+      <p class="i3">Is deid an&rsquo; rotten.</p>
+
+<p class="s">While thus the lave o&rsquo; mankind&rsquo;s lost,</p>
+<p>O&rsquo; Scotland still God maks His boast&mdash;</p>
+<p>Puir Scotland, on whase barren coast</p>
+      <p class="i3">A score or twa</p>
+<p>Auld wives wi&rsquo; mutches an&rsquo; a hoast</p>
+      <p class="i3">Still keep His law.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In Scotland, a wheen canty, plain,</p>
+<p>Douce, kintry-leevin&rsquo; folk retain</p>
+<p>The Truth&mdash;or did so aince&mdash;alane</p>
+      <p class="i3">Of a&rsquo; men leevin&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; noo just twa o&rsquo; them remain&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">Just Begg an&rsquo; Niven.</p>
+
+<p class="s">For noo, unfaithf�&rsquo; to the Lord,</p>
+<p>Auld Scotland joins the rebel horde;</p>
+<p>Her human hymn-books on the board</p>
+      <p class="i3">She noo displays:</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; Embro Hie Kirk&rsquo;s been restored</p>
+      <p class="i3">In popish ways.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O <i>punctum temporis</i> for action</p>
+<p>To a&rsquo; o&rsquo; the reformin&rsquo; faction,</p>
+<p>If yet, by ony act or paction,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Thocht, word, or sermon,</p>
+<p>This dark an&rsquo; damnable transaction</p>
+      <p class="i3">Micht yet determine!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page125"></a>125</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">For see&mdash;as Doctor Begg explains&mdash;</p>
+<p>Hoo easy &rsquo;t&rsquo;s d�ne! a pickle weans,</p>
+<p>Wha in the Hie Street gaither stanes</p>
+      <p class="i3">By his instruction,</p>
+<p>The uncovenantit, pentit panes</p>
+      <p class="i3">Ding to destruction.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Up, Niven, or ower late&mdash;an&rsquo; dash</p>
+<p>Laigh in the glaur that carnal hash;</p>
+<p>Let spires and pews wi&rsquo; gran&rsquo; stramash</p>
+      <p class="i3">Thegither fa&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>The rumlin&rsquo; kist o&rsquo; whustles smash</p>
+      <p class="i3">In pieces sma&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Noo choose ye out a walie hammer;</p>
+<p>About the knottit buttress clam&rsquo;er;</p>
+<p>Alang the steep roof stoyt an&rsquo; stammer,</p>
+      <p class="i3">A gate mischancy;</p>
+<p>On the aul&rsquo; spire, the bells&rsquo; hie cha&rsquo;mer,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Dance your bit dancie.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Ding, devel, dunt, destroy, an&rsquo; ruin,</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; carnal stanes the square bestrewn&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>Till your loud chaps frae Kyle to Fruin,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Frae Hell to Heeven,</p>
+<p>Tell the guid wark that baith are doin&rsquo;&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">Baith Begg an&rsquo; Niven.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SCOTSMAN&rsquo;S RETURN FROM ABROAD</h3>
+
+<h6>IN A LETTER FROM MR. THOMSON TO MR. JOHNSTONE</h6>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> mony a foreign pairt I&rsquo;ve been,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; mony an unco ferlie seen,</p>
+<p>Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I,</p>
+<p>Last walkit upon Cocklerye.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page126"></a>126</span></p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; gleg, observant een, I pass&rsquo;t</p>
+<p>By sea an&rsquo; land, through East an&rsquo; Wast,</p>
+<p>And still in ilka age an&rsquo; station</p>
+<p>Saw naething but abomination.</p>
+<p>In thir uncovenantit lands</p>
+<p>The gangrel Scot uplifts his hands</p>
+<p>At lack of a&rsquo; sectarian f�sh&rsquo;n,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; cauld religious destit�tion.</p>
+<p>He rins, puir man, frae place to place,</p>
+<p>Tries a&rsquo; their graceless means o&rsquo; grace,</p>
+<p>Preacher on preacher, kirk on kirk&mdash;</p>
+<p>This yin a stot an&rsquo; thon a stirk&mdash;</p>
+<p>A bletherin&rsquo; clan, no warth a preen.</p>
+<p>As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen!</p>
+
+<p class="s">At last, across the weary faem,</p>
+<p>Frae far, outlandish pairts I came.</p>
+<p>On ilka side o&rsquo; me I fand</p>
+<p>Fresh tokens o&rsquo; my native land.</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; whatna joy I hailed them a&rsquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>The hill-taps standin&rsquo; raw by raw,</p>
+<p>The public-house, the Hielan&rsquo; birks,</p>
+<p>And a&rsquo; the bonny U.P. kirks!</p>
+<p>But maistly thee, the bluid o&rsquo; Scots,</p>
+<p>Frae Maidenkirk to John o&rsquo; Groats!</p>
+<p>The king o&rsquo; drinks, as I conceive it,</p>
+<p>Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!</p>
+
+<p class="s">For after years wi&rsquo; a pockmantie</p>
+<p>Frae Zanzibar to Alicante,</p>
+<p>In mony a fash and sair affliction</p>
+<p>I gie&rsquo;t as my sincere conviction&mdash;</p>
+<p>Of a&rsquo; their foreign tricks an&rsquo; pliskies,</p>
+<p>I maist abominate their whiskies.</p>
+<p>Nae doot, themsel&rsquo;s, they ken it weel,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; wi&rsquo; a hash o&rsquo; leemon peel,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page127"></a>127</span></p>
+<p>And ice an&rsquo; siccan filth, they ettle</p>
+<p>The stawsome kind o&rsquo; goo to settle</p>
+<p>Sic wersh apothecary&rsquo;s broos wi&rsquo;</p>
+<p>As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo&rsquo;s wi&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo;, man, I was a blithe hame-comer</p>
+<p>Whan first I syndit out my rummer.</p>
+<p>Ye should hae seen me then, wi&rsquo; care</p>
+<p>The less important pairts prepare;</p>
+<p>Syne, weel contentit wi&rsquo; it a&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>Pour in the speerits wi&rsquo; a jaw!</p>
+<p>I didna drink, I didna speak,&mdash;</p>
+<p>I only snowkit up the reek.</p>
+<p>I was sae pleased therein to paidle,</p>
+<p>I sat an&rsquo; plowtered wi&rsquo; my ladle.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; blithe was I, the morrow&rsquo;s morn,</p>
+<p>To daunder through the stookit corn,</p>
+<p>And after a&rsquo; my strange mishanters</p>
+<p>Sit doun amang my ain dissenters</p>
+<p>An&rsquo;, man, it was a joy to me</p>
+<p>The pu&rsquo;pit an&rsquo; the pews to see,</p>
+<p>The pennies dirlin&rsquo; in the plate,</p>
+<p>The elders lookin&rsquo; on in state;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; &rsquo;mang the first, as it befell,</p>
+<p>Wha should I see, sir, but yoursel&rsquo;!</p>
+
+<p class="s">I was, and I will no&rsquo; deny it,</p>
+<p>At the first gliff a hantle tryit</p>
+<p>To see yoursel&rsquo; in sic a station&mdash;</p>
+<p>It seemed a doubtf�&rsquo; dispensation.</p>
+<p>The feelin&rsquo; was a mere digression;</p>
+<p>For sh�ne I understood the session,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; mindin&rsquo; Aiken an&rsquo; M&rsquo;Neil,</p>
+<p>I wondered they had d�ne sae weel.</p>
+<p>I saw I had mysel&rsquo; to blame;</p>
+<p>For had I but remained at hame,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page128"></a>128</span></p>
+<p>Aiblins&mdash;though no ava&rsquo; deservin&rsquo; &rsquo;t&mdash;</p>
+<p>They micht hae named your humble servant.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The kirk was filled, the door was steiked;</p>
+<p>Up to the pu&rsquo;pit aince I keeked;</p>
+<p>I was mair pleased than I can tell&mdash;</p>
+<p>It was the minister himsel&rsquo;!</p>
+<p>Proud, proud was I to see his face,</p>
+<p>After sae lang awa&rsquo; frae grace.</p>
+<p>Pleased as I was, I&rsquo;m no&rsquo; denyin&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Some maitters were not edifyin&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>For first I fand&mdash;an&rsquo; here was news!&mdash;</p>
+<p>Mere hymn-books cockin&rsquo; in the pews&mdash;</p>
+<p>A humanised abomination,</p>
+<p>Unfit for ony congregation.</p>
+<p>Syne, while I still was on the tenter,</p>
+<p>I scunnered at the new prezentor;</p>
+<p>I thocht him gesterin&rsquo; an&rsquo; cauld&mdash;</p>
+<p>A sair declension frae the auld.</p>
+<p>Syne, as though a&rsquo; the faith was wreckit,</p>
+<p>The prayer was not what I&rsquo;d exspeckit.</p>
+<p>Himsel&rsquo;, as it appeared to me,</p>
+<p>Was no&rsquo; the man he �sed to be.</p>
+<p>But just as I was growin&rsquo; vext</p>
+<p>He waled a maist judeecious text,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo;, launchin&rsquo; into his prelections,</p>
+<p>Swoopt, wi&rsquo; a skirl, on a&rsquo; defections.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O what a gale was on my speerit</p>
+<p>To hear the p&rsquo;ints o&rsquo; doctrine clearit,</p>
+<p>And a&rsquo; the horrors o&rsquo; damnation</p>
+<p>Set furth wi&rsquo; faithf�&rsquo; ministration!</p>
+<p>Nae shauchlin&rsquo; testimony here&mdash;</p>
+<p>We were a&rsquo; damned, an&rsquo; that was clear.</p>
+<p>I owned, wi&rsquo; gratitude an&rsquo; wonder,</p>
+<p>He was a pleesure to sit under.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page129"></a>129</span></p>
+<h5>XIII</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Late</span> in the nicht in bed I lay,</p>
+<p>The winds were at their weary play,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; tirlin&rsquo; wa&rsquo;s an&rsquo; skirlin&rsquo; wae</p>
+      <p class="i3">Through Heev&rsquo;n they battered;&mdash;</p>
+<p>On-ding o&rsquo; hail, on-blaff o&rsquo; spray,</p>
+      <p class="i3">The tempest blattered.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The masoned house it dinled through;</p>
+<p>It dung the ship, it cowped the coo;</p>
+<p>The rankit aiks it overthrew,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Had braved a&rsquo; weathers;</p>
+<p>The strang sea-gleds it took an&rsquo; blew</p>
+      <p class="i3">Awa&rsquo; like feethers.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The thrawes o&rsquo; fear on a&rsquo; were shed,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the hair rose, an&rsquo; slumber fled,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; lichts were lit an&rsquo; prayers were said</p>
+      <p class="i3">Through a&rsquo; the kintry;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the cauld terror clum in bed</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; a&rsquo; an&rsquo; sindry.</p>
+
+<p class="s">To hear in the pit-mirk on hie</p>
+<p>The brangled collieshangie flie,</p>
+<p>The warl&rsquo;, they thocht, wi&rsquo; land an&rsquo; sea,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Itsel&rsquo; wad cowpit;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; for auld airn, the smashed d�bris</p>
+      <p class="i3">By God be rowpit.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Meanwhile frae far Aldeboran</p>
+<p>To folks wi&rsquo; talescopes in han&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>O&rsquo; ships that cowpit, winds that ran,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Nae sign was seen,</p>
+<p>But the wee warl&rsquo; in sunshine span</p>
+      <p class="i3">As bricht&rsquo;s a preen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page130"></a>130</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I, tae, by God&rsquo;s especial grace,</p>
+<p>Dwall denty in a bieldy place,</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; hosened feet, wi&rsquo; shaven face,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; dacent mainners:</p>
+<p>A grand example to the race</p>
+      <p class="i3">O&rsquo; tautit sinners!</p>
+
+<p class="s">The wind may blaw, the heathen rage,</p>
+<p>The deil may start on the rampage;&mdash;</p>
+<p>The sick in bed, the thief in cage&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">What&rsquo;s a&rsquo; to me?</p>
+<p>Cosh in my house, a sober sage,</p>
+      <p class="i3">I sit an&rsquo; see.</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; whiles the bluid spangs to my bree,</p>
+<p>To lie sae saft, to live sae free,</p>
+<p>While better men maun do an&rsquo; die</p>
+       <p class="i3">In unco places.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Whaur&rsquo;s God?</i>&rdquo; I cry, an&rsquo; &ldquo;<i>Whae is me</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>To hae sic graces?</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">I mind the fecht the sailors keep,</p>
+<p>But fire or can&rsquo;le, rest or sleep,</p>
+<p>In darkness an&rsquo; the muckle deep;</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; mind beside</p>
+<p>The herd that on the hills o&rsquo; sheep</p>
+      <p class="i3">Has wandered wide.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I mind me on the hoastin&rsquo; weans&mdash;</p>
+<p>The penny joes on causey-stanes&mdash;</p>
+<p>The auld folk wi&rsquo; the crazy banes,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Baith auld an&rsquo; puir,</p>
+<p>That aye maun thole the winds an&rsquo; rains</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; labour sair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page131"></a>131</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; whiles I&rsquo;m kind o&rsquo; pleased a blink,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; kind o&rsquo; fleyed forby, to think,</p>
+<p>For a&rsquo; my rowth o&rsquo; meat an&rsquo; drink</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; waste o&rsquo; crumb,</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ll mebbe have to thole wi&rsquo; skink</p>
+      <p class="i3">In Kingdom Come.</p>
+
+<p class="s">For God whan jowes the Judgment bell</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; His ain Hand, His Leevin&rsquo; Sel&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>Sall ryve the guid (as Prophets tell)</p>
+      <p class="i3">Frae them that had it;</p>
+<p>And in the reamin&rsquo; pat o&rsquo; Hell,</p>
+      <p class="i3">The rich be scaddit.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O Lord, if this indeed be sae,</p>
+<p>Let daw&rsquo; that sair an&rsquo; happy day!</p>
+<p>Again the warl&rsquo;, grawn auld an&rsquo; grey,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Up wi&rsquo; your aixe!</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; let the puir enjoy their play&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">I&rsquo;ll thole my paiks.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIV</h5>
+
+<h3>MY CONSCIENCE!</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Of</span> a&rsquo; the ills that flesh can fear,</p>
+<p>The loss o&rsquo; frien&rsquo;s, the lack o&rsquo; gear,</p>
+<p>A yowlin&rsquo; tyke, a glandered mear,</p>
+      <p class="i3">A lassie&rsquo;s nonsense&mdash;</p>
+<p>There&rsquo;s just ae thing I canna bear,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; that&rsquo;s my conscience.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Whan day (an&rsquo; a&rsquo; exc�se) has gane,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; wark is d�ne, and duty&rsquo;s plain,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; to my chalmer a&rsquo; my lane</p>
+      <p class="i3">I creep apairt,</p>
+<p>My conscience! hoo the yammerin&rsquo; pain</p>
+      <p class="i3">Stends to my heart!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page132"></a>132</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">A&rsquo; day wi&rsquo; various ends in view,</p>
+<p>The hairsts o&rsquo; time I had to pu&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; made a hash wad staw a soo,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Let be a man!&mdash;</p>
+<p>My conscience! whan my han&rsquo;s were fu&rsquo;,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Whaur were ye than?</p>
+
+<p class="s">An&rsquo; there were a&rsquo; the lures o&rsquo; life,</p>
+<p>There pleesure skirlin&rsquo; on the fife,</p>
+<p>There anger, wi&rsquo; the hotchin&rsquo; knife</p>
+      <p class="i3">Ground shairp in Hell&mdash;</p>
+<p>My conscience!&mdash;you that&rsquo;s like a wife!&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">Whaur was yoursel&rsquo;?</p>
+
+<p class="s">I ken it fine: just waitin&rsquo; here,</p>
+<p>To gar the evil waur appear,</p>
+<p>To clart the guid, conf�se the clear,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Misca&rsquo; the great,</p>
+<p>My conscience! an&rsquo; to raise a steer</p>
+      <p class="i3">Whan a&rsquo;s ower late.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sic-like, some tyke grawn auld and blind,</p>
+<p>Whan thieves brok&rsquo; through the gear to p&rsquo;ind,</p>
+<p>Has lain his dozened length an&rsquo; grinned</p>
+      <p class="i3">At the disaster;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the morn&rsquo;s mornin&rsquo;, wud&rsquo;s the wind,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Yokes on his master.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page133"></a>133</span></p>
+<h5>XV</h5>
+
+<h3>TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr f90">
+
+<p><i>Whan the dear doctor, dear to a&rsquo;,</i></p>
+<p><i>Was still among us here belaw,</i></p>
+<p><i>I set my pipes his praise to blaw</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>Wi&rsquo; a&rsquo; my speerit;</i></p>
+<p><i>But noo, dear doctor! he&rsquo;s awa&rsquo;</i></p>
+      <p class="i3"><i>An&rsquo; ne&rsquo;er can hear it.</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p class="s"><span class="sc">By</span> Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees,</p>
+<p>By a&rsquo; the various river Dee&rsquo;s,</p>
+<p>In Mars and Manors &rsquo;yont the seas</p>
+      <p class="i3">Or here at hame,</p>
+<p>Whaure&rsquo;er there&rsquo;s kindly folk to please,</p>
+      <p class="i3">They ken your name.</p>
+
+<p class="s">They ken your name, they ken your tyke,</p>
+<p>They ken the honey from your byke;</p>
+<p>But mebbe after a&rsquo; your fyke,</p>
+      <p class="i3">(The tr�th to tell)</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s just your honest Rab they like,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; no&rsquo; yoursel&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p class="s">As at the gowff, some canny play&rsquo;r</p>
+<p>Should tee a common ba&rsquo; wi&rsquo; care&mdash;</p>
+<p>Should flourish and deleever fair</p>
+      <p class="i3">His souple shintie&mdash;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the ba&rsquo; rise into the air,</p>
+      <p class="i3">A leevin&rsquo; lintie:</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sae in the game we writers play,</p>
+<p>There comes to some a bonny day,</p>
+<p>When a dear ferlie shall repay</p>
+      <p class="i3">Their years o&rsquo; strife,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; like your Rab, their things o&rsquo; clay</p>
+      <p class="i3">Spreid wings o&rsquo; life.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page134"></a>134</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Ye scarce deserved it, I&rsquo;m afraid&mdash;</p>
+<p>You that had never learned the trade,</p>
+<p>But just some idle mornin&rsquo; strayed</p>
+      <p class="i3">Into the sch�le,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; picked the fiddle up an&rsquo; played</p>
+      <p class="i3">Like Neil himsel&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Your e&rsquo;e was gleg, your fingers dink;</p>
+<p>Ye didna fash yoursel&rsquo; to think,</p>
+<p>But wove, as fast as puss can link,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Your denty wab:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Ye stapped your pen into the ink,</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; there was Rab!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sinsyne, whaure&rsquo;er your fortune lay</p>
+<p>By dowie den, by canty brae,</p>
+<p>Simmer an&rsquo; winter, nicht an&rsquo; day,</p>
+      <p class="i3">Rab was aye wi&rsquo; ye;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; a&rsquo; the folk on a&rsquo; the way</p>
+      <p class="i3">Were blithe to see ye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O sir, the gods are kind indeed,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; hauld ye for an honoured heid,</p>
+<p>That for a wee bit clarkit screed</p>
+      <p class="i3">Sae weel reward ye,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; lend&mdash;puir Rabbie bein&rsquo; deid&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">His ghaist to guard ye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">For though, whaure&rsquo;er yoursel&rsquo; may be,</p>
+<p>We&rsquo;ve just to turn an&rsquo; glisk a wee,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; Rab at heel we&rsquo;re sh�re to see</p>
+      <p class="i3">Wi&rsquo; gladsome caper:&mdash;</p>
+<p>The bogle of a bogle, he&mdash;</p>
+      <p class="i3">A ghaist o&rsquo; paper!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page135"></a>135</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">And as the auld-farrant hero sees</p>
+<p>In Hell a bogle Hercules,</p>
+<p>Pit there the lesser deid to please,</p>
+      <p class="i3">While he himsel&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Dwalls wi&rsquo; the muckle gods at ease</p>
+      <p class="i3">Far raised frae Hell:</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sae the true Rabbie far has gane</p>
+<p>On kindlier business o&rsquo; his ain</p>
+<p>Wi&rsquo; aulder frien&rsquo;s; an&rsquo; his breist-bane</p>
+      <p class="i3">An&rsquo; stumpie tailie,</p>
+<p>He birstles at a new hearth-stane</p>
+      <p class="i3">By James and Ailie.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVI</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It&rsquo;s</span> an owercome sooth for age an&rsquo; youth,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And it brooks wi&rsquo; nae denial,</p>
+<p>That the dearest friends are the auldest friends,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the young are just on trial.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There&rsquo;s a rival bauld wi&rsquo; young an&rsquo; auld,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And it&rsquo;s him that has bereft me;</p>
+<p>For the s�rest friends are the auldest friends,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the maist o&rsquo; mine&rsquo;s hae left me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There are kind hearts still, for friends to fill</p>
+  <p class="i1">And fools to take and break them;</p>
+<p>But the nearest friends are the auldest friends,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the grave&rsquo;s the place to seek them.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page136"></a>136</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page137"></a>137</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>BALLADS</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>THE SONG OF RAH�RO</h3>
+
+<h4>A LEGEND OF TAHITI</h4>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page138"></a>138</span></p>
+<h5><i>TO</i></h5>
+<h5><i>ORI A ORI</i></h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><i>Ori, my brother in the island mode,</i></p>
+<p><i>In every tongue and meaning much my friend,</i></p>
+<p><i>This story of your country and your clan,</i></p>
+<p><i>In your loved house, your too much honoured guest,</i></p>
+<p><i>I made in English. Take it, being done;</i></p>
+<p><i>And let me sign it with the name you gave.</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p class="sign"><i>TERIITERA</i>.</p>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page139"></a>139</span></p>
+<h2>BALLADS</h2>
+
+<h4>THE SONG OF RAH�RO</h4>
+
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SLAYING OF T�MAT�A</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It</span> fell in the days of old, as the men of Tai�rapu tell,</p>
+<p>A youth went forth to the fishing, and fortune favoured him well.</p>
+<p>T�mat�a his name: gullible, simple, and kind.</p>
+<p>Comely of countenance, nimble of body, empty of mind,</p>
+<p>His mother ruled him and loved him beyond the wont of a wife,</p>
+<p>Serving the lad for eyes and living herself in his life.</p>
+<p>Alone from the sea and the fishing came T�mat�a the fair,</p>
+<p>Urging his boat to the beach, and the mother awaited him there.</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;Long may you live!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Your fishing has sped to a wish.</p>
+<p>And now let us choose for the king the fairest of all your fish.</p>
+<p>For fear inhabits the palace and grudging grows in the land,</p>
+<p>Marked is the sluggardly foot and marked the niggardly hand,</p>
+<p>The hours and the miles are counted, the tributes numbered and weighed,</p>
+<p>And woe to him that comes short, and woe to him that delayed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page140"></a>140</span></p>
+<p>So spoke on the beach the mother, and counselled the wiser thing.</p>
+<p>For Rah�ro stirred in the country and secretly mined the king.</p>
+<p>Nor were the signals wanting of how the leaven wrought,</p>
+<p>In the cords of obedience loosed and the tributes grudgingly brought.</p>
+<p>And when last to the temple of Oro the boat with the victim sped,</p>
+<p>And the priest uncovered the basket and looked on the face of the dead,</p>
+<p>Trembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous thing,</p>
+<p>For there was the aito<a name="FnAnchor_1c" href="#Footnote_1c"><span class="sp">1</span></a> dead, and he of the house of the king.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So spake on the beach the mother, matter worthy of note,</p>
+<p>And wattled a basket well, and chose a fish from the boat;</p>
+<p>And T�mat�a the pliable shouldered the basket and went,</p>
+<p>And travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad that was well content.</p>
+<p>Still the way of his going was round by the roaring coast,</p>
+<p>Where the ring of the reef is broke and the trades run riot the most.</p>
+<p>On his left, with smoke as of battle, the billows battered the land;</p>
+<p>Unscalable, turreted mountains rose on the inner hand.</p>
+<p>And cape, and village, and river, and vale, and mountain above,</p>
+<p>Each had a name in the land for men to remember and love;</p>
+<p>And never the name of a place, but lo! a song in its praise:</p>
+<p>Ancient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier days</p>
+<p>That the elders taught to the young, and at night, in the full of the moon,</p>
+<p>Garlanded boys and maidens sang together in tune.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page141"></a>141</span></p>
+<p>T�mat�a the placable went with a lingering foot;</p>
+<p>He sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse as a flute;</p>
+<p>He broiled in the sun, he breathed in the grateful shadow of trees,</p>
+<p>In the icy stream of the rivers he waded over the knees;</p>
+<p>And still in his empty mind crowded, a thousand-fold,</p>
+<p>The deeds of the strong and the songs of the cunning heroes of old.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And now was he come to a place Tai�rapu honoured the most,</p>
+<p>Where a silent valley of woods debouched on the noisy coast,</p>
+<p>Spewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai.<a name="FnAnchor_2c" href="#Footnote_2c"><span class="sp">2</span></a></p>
+<p>There, in his potent youth, when his parents drove him to die,</p>
+<p>Honoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp and the fire,</p>
+<p>Washed by the rains of the trade and clotting his hair in the mire;</p>
+<p>And there, so mighty his hands, he bent the tree to his foot&mdash;</p>
+<p>So keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it naked of fruit.</p>
+<p>There, as she pondered the clouds for the shadow of coming ills,</p>
+<p>Ahupu, the woman of song, walked on high on the hills.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Of these was Rah�ro sprung, a man of a godly race;</p>
+<p>And inherited cunning of spirit, and beauty of body and face.</p>
+<p>Of yore in his youth, as an aito, Rah�ro wandered the land,</p>
+<p>Delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men with his hand.</p>
+<p>Famous he was in his youth; but before the midst of his life</p>
+<p>Paused, and fashioned a song of farewell to glory and strife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page142"></a>142</span></p>
+
+<p class="s i1"><i>House of mine</i> (it went), <i>house upon the sea,</i></p>
+<p class="i1"><i>Belov&rsquo;d of all my fathers, more belov&rsquo;d by me!</i></p>
+<p class="i1"><i>Vale of the strong Honoura, deep ravine of Pai,</i></p>
+<p class="i1"><i>Again in your woody summits I hear the trade-wind cry.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s i1"><i>House of mine, in your walls, strong sounds the sea,</i></p>
+<p class="i1"><i>Of all sounds on earth, dearest sound to me.</i></p>
+<p class="i1"><i>I have heard the applause of men, I have heard it arise and die:</i></p>
+<p class="i1"><i>Sweeter now in my house I hear the trade-wind cry.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">These were the words of his singing, other the thought of his heart;</p>
+<p>For secret desire of glory vexed him, dwelling apart.</p>
+<p>Lazy and crafty he was, and loved to lie in the sun,</p>
+<p>And loved the cackle of talk and the true word uttered in fun;</p>
+<p>Lazy he was, his roof was ragged, his table was lean,</p>
+<p>And the fish swam safe in his sea, and he gathered the near and the green.</p>
+<p>He sat in his house and laughed, but he loathed the king of the land,</p>
+<p>And he uttered the grudging word under the covering hand.</p>
+<p>Treason spread from his door; and he looked for a day to come,</p>
+<p>A day of the crowding people, a day of the summoning drum,</p>
+<p>When the vote should be taken, the king be driven forth in disgrace,</p>
+<p>And Rah�ro, the laughing and lazy, sit and rule in his place.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here T�mat�a came, and beheld the house on the brook;</p>
+<p>And Rah�ro was there by the way and covered an oven to cook.<a name="FnAnchor_3c" href="#Footnote_3c"><span class="sp">3</span></a></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page143"></a>143</span></p>
+<p>Naked he was to the loins, but the tattoo covered the lack,</p>
+<p>And the sun and the shadow of palms dappled his muscular back.</p>
+<p>Swiftly he lifted his head at the fall of the coming feet,</p>
+<p>And the water sprang in his mouth with a sudden desire of meat:</p>
+<p>For he marked the basket carried, covered from flies and the sun;<a name="FnAnchor_4c" href="#Footnote_4c"><span class="sp">4</span></a></p>
+<p>And Rah�ro buried his fire, but the meat in his house was done.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Forth he stepped; and took, and delayed the boy, by the hand;</p>
+<p>And vaunted the joys of meat and the ancient ways of the land:</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;Our sires of old in Tai�rapu, they that created the race,</p>
+<p>Ate ever with eager hand, nor regarded season or place,</p>
+<p>Ate in the boat at the oar, on the way afoot; and at night</p>
+<p>Arose in the midst of dreams to rummage the house for a bite.</p>
+<p>It is good for the youth in his turn to follow the way of the sire;</p>
+<p>And behold how fitting the time! for here do I cover my fire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;I see the fire for the cooking, but never the meat to cook,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said T�mat�a.&mdash;&ldquo;Tut!&rdquo; said Rah�ro. &ldquo;Here in the brook,</p>
+<p>And there in the tumbling sea, the fishes are thick as flies,</p>
+<p>Hungry like healthy men, and like pigs for savour and size:</p>
+<p>Crayfish crowding the river, sea-fish thronging the sea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;Well, it may be,&rdquo; says the other, &ldquo;and yet be nothing to me.</p>
+<p>Fain would I eat, but alas! I have needful matter in hand,</p>
+<p>Since I carry my tribute of fish to the jealous king of the land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page144"></a>144</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Now at the word a light sprang in Rah�ro&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will gain me a dinner,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;and lend the king a surprise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he took the lad by the arm, as they stood by the side of the track,</p>
+<p>And smiled, and rallied, and flattered, and pushed him forward and back.</p>
+<p>It was &ldquo;You that sing like a bird, I never have heard you sing,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And &ldquo;The lads when I was a lad were none so feared of a king.</p>
+<p>And of what account is an hour, when the heart is empty of guile?</p>
+<p>But come, and sit in the house and laugh with the women awhile;</p>
+<p>And I will but drop my hook, and behold! the dinner made.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">So T�mat�a the pliable hung up his fish in the shade</p>
+<p>On a tree by the side of the way; and Rah�ro carried him in,</p>
+<p>Smiling as smiles the fowler when flutters the bird to the gin,</p>
+<p>And chose him a shining hook,<a name="FnAnchor_5c" href="#Footnote_5c"><span class="sp">5</span></a> and viewed it with sedulous eye,</p>
+<p>And breathed and burnished it well on the brawn of his naked thigh,</p>
+<p>And set a mat for the gull, and bade him be merry and bide,</p>
+<p>Like a man concerned for his guest, and the fishing, and nothing beside.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now when Rah�ro was forth, he paused and hearkened, and heard</p>
+<p>The gull jest in the house and the women laugh at his word;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page145"></a>145</span></p>
+<p>And stealthily crossed to the side of the way, to the shady place</p>
+<p>Where the basket hung on a mango; and craft transfigured his face.</p>
+<p>Deftly he opened the basket, and took of the fat of the fish,</p>
+<p>The cut of kings and chieftains, enough for a goodly dish.</p>
+<p>This he wrapped in a leaf, set on the fire to cook,</p>
+<p>And buried; and next the marred remains of the tribute he took,</p>
+<p>And doubled and packed them well, and covered the basket close.</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;There is a buffet, my king,&rdquo; quoth he, &ldquo;and a nauseous dose!&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>And hung the basket again in the shade, in a cloud of flies;</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;And there is a sauce to your dinner, king of the crafty eyes!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Soon as the oven was open, the fish smelt excellent good.</p>
+<p>In the shade, by the house of Rah�ro, down they sat to their food,</p>
+<p>And cleared the leaves,<a name="FnAnchor_6c" href="#Footnote_6c"><span class="sp">6</span></a> in silence, or uttered a jest and laughed</p>
+<p>And raising the cocoa-nut bowls, buried their faces and quaffed.</p>
+<p>But chiefly in silence they ate; and soon as the meal was done,</p>
+<p>Rah�ro feigned to remember and measured the hour by the sun</p>
+<p>And &ldquo;T�mat�a,&rdquo; quoth he, &ldquo;it is time to be jogging, my lad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">So T�mat�a arose, doing ever the thing he was bade,</p>
+<p>And carelessly shouldered the basket, and kindly saluted his host;</p>
+<p>And again the way of his going was round by the roaring coast.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page146"></a>146</span></p>
+<p>Long he went; and at length was aware of a pleasant green,</p>
+<p>And the stems and shadows of palms, and roofs of lodges between.</p>
+<p>There sate, in the door of his palace, the king on a kingly seat,</p>
+<p>And aitos stood armed around, and the yottowas<a name="FnAnchor_7c" href="#Footnote_7c"><span class="sp">7</span></a> sat at his feet.</p>
+<p>But fear was a worm in his heart: fear darted his eyes;</p>
+<p>And he probed men&rsquo;s faces for treasons and pondered their speech for lies.</p>
+<p>To him came T�mat�a, the basket slung in his hand,</p>
+<p>And paid him the due obeisance standing as vassals stand.</p>
+<p>In silence hearkened the king, and closed the eyes in his face,</p>
+<p>Harbouring odious thoughts and the baseless fears of the base;</p>
+<p>In silence accepted the gift and sent the giver away.</p>
+<p>So T�mat�a departed, turning his back on the day.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And lo! as the king sat brooding, a rumour rose in the crowd;</p>
+<p>The yottowas nudged and whispered, the commons murmured aloud;</p>
+<p>Tittering fell upon all at sight of the impudent thing,</p>
+<p>At the sight of a gift unroyal flung in the face of a king.</p>
+<p>And the face of the king turned white and red with anger and shame</p>
+<p>In their midst; and the heart in his body was water and then was flame;</p>
+<p>Till of a sudden, turning, he gripped an aito hard,</p>
+<p>A youth that stood with his �mare,<a name="FnAnchor_8c" href="#Footnote_8c"><span class="sp">8</span></a> one of the daily guard,</p>
+<p>And spat in his ear a command, and pointed and uttered a name,</p>
+<p>And hid in the shade of the house his impotent anger and shame.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page147"></a>147</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Now T�mat�a the fool was far on his homeward way,</p>
+<p>The rising night in his face, behind him the dying day.</p>
+<p>Rah�ro saw him go by, and the heart of Rah�ro was glad,</p>
+<p>Devising shame to the king and nowise harm to the lad;</p>
+<p>And all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted him well,</p>
+<p>For he had the face of a friend and the news of the town to tell;</p>
+<p>And pleased with the notice of folk, and pleased that his journey was done,</p>
+<p>T�mat�a drew homeward, turning his back to the sun.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And now was the hour of the bath in Tai�rapu: far and near</p>
+<p>The lovely laughter of bathers rose and delighted his ear.</p>
+<p>Night massed in the valleys; the sun on the mountain coast</p>
+<p>Struck, end-long; and above the clouds embattled their host,</p>
+<p>And glowed and gloomed on the heights; and the heads of the palms were gems,</p>
+<p>And far to the rising eve extended the shade of their stems;</p>
+<p>And the shadow of T�mat�a hovered already at home.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And sudden the sound of one coming and running light as the foam</p>
+<p>Struck on his ear; and he turned, and lo! a man on his track,</p>
+<p>Girded and armed with an �mare, following hard at his back.</p>
+<p>At a bound the man was upon him;&mdash;and, or ever a word was said,</p>
+<p>The loaded end of the �mare fell and laid him dead.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page148"></a>148</span></p>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>THE VENGING OF T�MAT�A</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Thus</span> was Rah�ro&rsquo;s treason; thus and no further it sped.</p>
+<p>The king sat safe in his place and a kindly fool was dead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But the mother of T�mat�a arose with death in her eyes.</p>
+<p>All night long, and the next, Tai�rapu rang with her cries.</p>
+<p>As when a babe in the wood turns with a chill of doubt</p>
+<p>And perceives nor home, nor friends, for the trees have closed her about,</p>
+<p>The mountain rings and her breast is torn with the voice of despair:</p>
+<p>So the lion-like woman idly wearied the air</p>
+<p>For a while, and pierced men&rsquo;s hearing in vain, and wounded their hearts.</p>
+<p>But as when the weather changes at sea, in dangerous parts,</p>
+<p>And sudden the hurricane wrack unrolls up the front of the sky,</p>
+<p>At once the ship lies idle, the sails hang silent on high,</p>
+<p>The breath of the wind that blew is blown out like the flame of a lamp,</p>
+<p>And the silent armies of death draw near with inaudible tramp:</p>
+<p>So sudden, the voice of her weeping ceased; in silence she rose</p>
+<p>And passed from the house of her sorrow, a woman clothed with repose,</p>
+<p>Carrying death in her breast and sharpening death in her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Hither she went and thither in all the coasts of the land.</p>
+<p>They tell that she feared not to slumber alone, in the dead of night,</p>
+<p>In accursed places; beheld, unblenched, the ribbon of light<a name="FnAnchor_9c" href="#Footnote_9c"><span class="sp">9</span></a></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page149"></a>149</span></p>
+<p>Spin from temple to temple; guided the perilous skiff,</p>
+<p>Abhorred not the paths of the mountain and trod the verge of the cliff;</p>
+<p>From end to end of the island, thought not the distance long,</p>
+<p>But forth from king to king carried the tale of her wrong.</p>
+<p>To king after king, as they sat in the palace door, she came,</p>
+<p>Claiming kinship, declaiming verses, naming her name</p>
+<p>And the names of all of her fathers; and still, with a heart on the rack,</p>
+<p>Jested to capture a hearing and laughed when they jested back;</p>
+<p>So would deceive them a while, and change and return in a breath,</p>
+<p>And on all the men of Vaiau imprecate instant death;</p>
+<p>And tempt her kings&mdash;for Vaiau was a rich and prosperous land,</p>
+<p>And flatter&mdash;for who would attempt it but warriors mighty of hand?</p>
+<p>And change in a breath again and rise in a strain of song,</p>
+<p>Invoking the beaten drums, beholding the fall of the strong,</p>
+<p>Calling the fowls of the air to come and feast on the dead.</p>
+<p>And they held the chin in silence, and heard her, and shook the head;</p>
+<p>For they knew the men of Tai�rapu famous in battle and feast,</p>
+<p>Marvellous eaters and smiters: the men of Vaiau not least.</p>
+<p>To the land of the N�munu-�ra, to Paea,<a name="FnAnchor_10c" href="#Footnote_10c"><span class="sp">10</span></a> at length she came,</p>
+<p>To men who were foes to the Tevas and hated their race and name.</p>
+<p>There was she well received, and spoke with Hiopa the king.<a name="FnAnchor_11c" href="#Footnote_11c"><span class="sp">11</span></a></p>
+<p>And Hiopa listened, and weighed, and wisely considered the thing.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page150"></a>150</span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here in the back of the isle we dwell in a sheltered place,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth he to the woman, &ldquo;in quiet, a weak and peaceable race.</p>
+<p>But far in the teeth of the wind lofty Tai�rapu lies;</p>
+<p>Strong blows the wind of the trade on its seaward face, and cries</p>
+<p>Aloud in the top of arduous mountains, and utters its song</p>
+<p>In green continuous forests. Strong is the wind, and strong</p>
+<p>And fruitful and hardy the race, famous in battle and feast,</p>
+<p>Marvellous eaters and smiters: the men of Vaiau not least.</p>
+<p>Now hearken to me, my daughter, and hear a word of the wise:</p>
+<p>How a strength goes linked with a weakness, two by two, like the eyes.</p>
+<p>They can wield the �mare well and cast the javelin far;</p>
+<p>Yet are they greedy and weak as the swine and the children are.</p>
+<p>Plant we, then, here at Paea a garden of excellent fruits;</p>
+<p>Plant we bananas and kava and taro, the king of roots;</p>
+<p>Let the pigs in Paea be tapu<a name="FnAnchor_12c" href="#Footnote_12c"><span class="sp">12</span></a> and no man fish for a year;</p>
+<p>And of all the meat in Tahiti gather we threefold here.</p>
+<p>So shall the fame of our plenty fill the island and so,</p>
+<p>At last, on the tongue of rumour, go where we wish it to go.</p>
+<p>Then shall the pigs of Tai�rapu raise their snouts in the air;</p>
+<p>But we sit quiet and wait, as the fowler sits by the snare,</p>
+<p>And tranquilly fold our hands, till the pigs come nosing the food:</p>
+<p>But meanwhile build us a house of Trot�a, the stubborn wood,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page151"></a>151</span></p>
+<p>Bind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof to the room,</p>
+<p>Too strong for the hands of a man to dissever or fire to consume;</p>
+<p>And there, when the pigs come trotting, there shall the feast be spread,</p>
+<p>There shall the eye of the morn enlighten the feasters dead.</p>
+<p>So be it done; for I have a heart that pities your state,</p>
+<p>And Nateva and N�munu-�ra are fire and water for hate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">All was done as he said, and the gardens prospered; and now</p>
+<p>The fame of their plenty went out, and word of it came to Vaiau.</p>
+<p>For the men of N�munu-�ra sailed, to the windward far,</p>
+<p>Lay in the offing by south where the towns of the Tevas are,</p>
+<p>And cast overboard of their plenty; and lo! at the Tevas&rsquo; feet</p>
+<p>The surf on all the beaches tumbled treasures of meat.</p>
+<p>In the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with the refluent foam;</p>
+<p>And the children gleaned it in playing, and ate and carried it home;</p>
+<p>And the elders stared and debated, and wondered and passed the jest,</p>
+<p>But whenever a guest came by eagerly questioned the guest;</p>
+<p>And little by little, from one to another, the word went round:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In all the borders of Paea the victual rots on the ground,</p>
+<p>And swine are plenty as rats. And now, when they fare to the sea,</p>
+<p>The men of the N�munu-�ra glean from under the tree</p>
+<p>And load the canoe to the gunwale with all that is toothsome to eat;</p>
+<p>And all day long on the sea the jaws are crushing the meat,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page152"></a>152</span></p>
+<p>The steersman eats at the helm, the rowers munch at the oar,</p>
+<p>And at length, when their bellies are full, overboard with the store!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now was the word made true, and soon as the bait was bare,</p>
+<p>All the pigs of Tai�rapu raised their snouts in the air.</p>
+<p>Songs were recited, and kinship was counted, and tales were told</p>
+<p>How war had severed of late but peace had cemented of old</p>
+<p>The clans of the island. &ldquo;To war,&rdquo; said they, &ldquo;now set we an end,</p>
+<p>And hie to the N�munu-�ra even as a friend to a friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">So judged, and a day was named; and soon as the morning broke,</p>
+<p>Canoes were thrust in the sea, and the houses emptied of folk.</p>
+<p>Strong blew the wind of the south, the wind that gathers the clan;</p>
+<p>Along all the line of the reef the clamorous surges ran;</p>
+<p>And the clouds were piled on the top of the island mountain-high,</p>
+<p>A mountain throned on a mountain. The fleet of canoes swept by</p>
+<p>In the midst, on the green lagoon, with a crew released from care,</p>
+<p>Sailing an even water, breathing a summer air,</p>
+<p>Cheered by a cloudless sun; and ever to left and right,</p>
+<p>Bursting surge on the reef, drenching storms on the height.</p>
+<p>So the folk of Vaiau sailed and were glad all day,</p>
+<p>Coasting the palm-tree cape and crossing the populous bay</p>
+<p>By all the towns of the Tevas; and still as they bowled along,</p>
+<p>Boat would answer to boat with jest and laughter and song,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page153"></a>153</span></p>
+<p>And the people of all the towns trooped to the sides of the sea,</p>
+<p>And gazed from under the hand or sprang aloft on the tree</p>
+<p>Hailing and cheering. Time failed them for more to do;</p>
+<p>The holiday village careened to the wind, and was gone from view</p>
+<p>Swift as a passing bird; and ever as onward it bore,</p>
+<p>Like the cry of the passing bird, bequeathed its song to the shore&mdash;</p>
+<p>Desirable laughter of maids and the cry of delight of the child.</p>
+<p>And the gazer, left behind, stared at the wake and smiled.</p>
+<p>By all the towns of the Tevas they went, and P�para last,</p>
+<p>The home of the chief, the place of muster in war; and passed</p>
+<p>The march of the lands of the clan, to the lands of an alien folk.</p>
+<p>And there, from the dusk of the shoreside palms, a column of smoke</p>
+<p>Mounted and wavered and died in the gold of the setting sun,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Paea!&rdquo; they cried. &ldquo;It is Paea.&rdquo; And so was the voyage done.</p>
+
+<p class="s">In the early fall of the night Hiopa came to the shore,</p>
+<p>And beheld and counted the comers, and lo, they were forty score;</p>
+<p>The pelting feet of the babes that ran already and played,</p>
+<p>The clean-lipped smile of the boy, the slender breasts of the maid,</p>
+<p>And mighty limbs of women, stalwart mothers of men.</p>
+<p>The sires stood forth unabashed; but a little back from his ken</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page154"></a>154</span></p>
+<p>Clustered the scarcely nubile, the lads and maids, in a ring,</p>
+<p>Fain of each other, afraid of themselves, aware of the king</p>
+<p>And aping behaviour, but clinging together with hands and eyes,</p>
+<p>With looks that were kind like kisses, and laughter tender as sighs.</p>
+<p>There, too, the grandsire stood, raising his silver crest,</p>
+<p>And the impotent hands of a suckling groped in his barren breast.</p>
+<p>The childhood of love, the pair well married, the innocent brood,</p>
+<p>The tale of the generations repeated and ever renewed&mdash;</p>
+<p>Hiopa beheld them together, all the ages of man,</p>
+<p>And a moment shook in his purpose.</p>
+
+<p class="s" style="padding-left: 6em;">But these were the foes of his clan,</p>
+<p>And he trod upon pity, and came, and civilly greeted the king,</p>
+<p>And gravely entreated Rah�ro; and for all that could fight or sing,</p>
+<p>And claimed a name in the land, had fitting phrases of praise:</p>
+<p>But with all who were well-descended he spoke of the ancient days.</p>
+<p>And &ldquo;&rsquo;Tis true,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that in Paea the victual rots on the ground;</p>
+<p>But, friends, your number is many; and pigs must be hunted and found,</p>
+<p>And the lads must troop to the mountains to bring the f�is down,</p>
+<p>And around the bowls of the kava cluster the maids of the town.</p>
+<p>So, for to-night, sleep here; but king, common, and priest</p>
+<p>To-morrow, in order due, shall sit with me in the feast.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page155"></a>155</span></p>
+<p>Sleepless the live-long night, Hiopa&rsquo;s followers toiled.</p>
+<p>The pigs screamed and were slaughtered; the spars of the guest-house oiled,</p>
+<p>The leaves spread on the floor. In many a mountain glen</p>
+<p>The moon drew shadows of trees on the naked bodies of men</p>
+<p>Plucking and bearing fruits; and in all the bounds of the town</p>
+<p>Red glowed the cocoa-nut fires, and were buried and trodden down.</p>
+<p>Thus did seven of the yottowas toil with their tale of the clan,</p>
+<p>But the eighth wrought with his lads, hid from the sight of man.</p>
+<p>In the deeps of the woods they laboured, piling the fuel high</p>
+<p>In fagots, the load of a man, fuel seasoned and dry,</p>
+<p>Thirsty to seize upon fire and apt to blurt into flame.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And now was the day of the feast. The forests, as morning came,</p>
+<p>Tossed in the wind, and the peaks quaked in the blaze of the day&mdash;</p>
+<p>And the cocoa-nuts showered on the ground, rebounding and rolling away:</p>
+<p>A glorious morn for a feast, a famous wind for a fire.</p>
+<p>To the hall of feasting Hiopa led them, mother and sire</p>
+<p>And maid and babe in a tale, the whole of the holiday throng.</p>
+<p>Smiling they came, garlanded green, not dreaming of wrong;</p>
+<p>And for every three, a pig, tenderly cooked in the ground,</p>
+<p>Waited; and f�i, the staff of life, heaped in a mound</p>
+<p>For each where he sat;&mdash;for each, bananas roasted and raw</p>
+<p>Piled with a bountiful hand, as for horses hay and straw</p>
+<p>Are stacked in a stable; and fish, the food of desire,<a name="FnAnchor_13c" href="#Footnote_13c"><span class="sp">13</span></a></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page156"></a>156</span></p>
+<p>And plentiful vessels of sauce, and bread-fruit gilt in the fire;&mdash;</p>
+<p>And kava was common as water. Feasts have there been ere now,</p>
+<p>And many, but never a feast like that of the folk of Vaiau.</p>
+<p>All day long they ate with the resolute greed of brutes,</p>
+<p>And turned from the pigs to the fish, and again from the fish to the fruits,</p>
+<p>And emptied the vessels of sauce, and drank of the kava deep;</p>
+<p>Till the young lay stupid as stones, and the strongest nodded to sleep.</p>
+<p>Sleep that was mighty as death and blind as a moonless night</p>
+<p>Tethered them hand and foot; and their souls were drowned, and the light</p>
+<p>Was cloaked from their eyes. Senseless together, the old and the young,</p>
+<p>The fighter deadly to smite and the prater cunning of tongue,</p>
+<p>The woman wedded and fruitful, inured to the pangs of birth,</p>
+<p>And the maid that knew not of kisses, blindly sprawled on the earth.</p>
+<p>From the hall Hiopa the king and his chiefs came stealthily forth.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Already the sun hung low and enlightened the peaks of the north;</p>
+<p>But the wind was stubborn to die and blew as it blows at morn,</p>
+<p>Showering the nuts in the dusk, and e&rsquo;en as a banner is torn,</p>
+<p>High on the peaks of the island, shattered the mountain cloud.</p>
+<p>And now at once, at a signal, a silent, emulous crowd</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page157"></a>157</span></p>
+<p>Set hands to the work of death, hurrying to and fro,</p>
+<p>Like ants, to furnish the fagots, building them broad and low,</p>
+<p>And piling them high and higher around the walls of the hall.</p>
+<p>Silence persisted within, for sleep lay heavy on all</p>
+<p>But the mother of T�mat�a stood at Hiopa&rsquo;s side,</p>
+<p>And shook for terror and joy like a girl that is a bride,</p>
+<p>Night fell on the toilers, and first Hiopa the wise</p>
+<p>Made the round of the hose, visiting all with his eyes;</p>
+<p>And all was piled to the eaves, and fuel blockaded the door;</p>
+<p>And within, in the house beleaguered, slumbered the forty score.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Then was an aito despatched and came with fire in his hand,</p>
+<p>And Hiopa took it.&mdash;&ldquo;Within,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is the life of a land;</p>
+<p>And behold! I breathe on the coal, I breathe on the dales of the east,</p>
+<p>And silence falls on forest and shore; the voice of the feast</p>
+<p>Is quenched, and the smoke of cooking; the roof-tree decays and falls</p>
+<p>On the empty lodge, and the winds subvert deserted walls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Therewithal, to the fuel, he laid the glowing coal;</p>
+<p>And the redness ran in the mass and burrowed within like a mole,</p>
+<p>And copious smoke was conceived. But, as when a dam is to burst,</p>
+<p>The water lips it and crosses in silver trickles at first,</p>
+<p>And then, of a sudden, whelms and bears it away forthright;</p>
+<p>So now, in a moment, the flame sprang and towered in the night,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page158"></a>158</span></p>
+<p>And wrestled and roared in the wind, and high over house and tree,</p>
+<p>Stood, like a streaming torch, enlightening land and sea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But the mother of T�mat�a threw her arms abroad,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pyre of my son,&rdquo; she shouted, &ldquo;debited vengeance of God,</p>
+<p>Late, late, I behold you, yet I behold you at last,</p>
+<p>And glory, beholding! For now are the days of my agony past,</p>
+<p>The lust that famished my soul now eats and drinks its desire,</p>
+<p>And they that encompassed my son shrivel alive in the fire.</p>
+<p>Tenfold precious the vengeance that comes after lingering years!</p>
+<p>Ye quenched the voice of my singer?&mdash;hark, in your dying ears,</p>
+<p>The song of the conflagration! Ye left me a widow alone?</p>
+<p>&mdash;Behold, the whole of your race consumes, sinew and bone</p>
+<p>And torturing flesh together: man, mother, and maid</p>
+<p>Heaped in a common shambles; and already, borne by the trade,</p>
+<p>The smoke of your dissolution darkens the stars of night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thus she spoke, and her stature grew in the people&rsquo;s sight.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page159"></a>159</span></p>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>RAH�RO</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Rah�ro</span> was there in the hall asleep: beside him his wife,</p>
+<p>Comely, a mirthful woman, one that delighted in life;</p>
+<p>And a girl that was ripe for marriage, shy and sly as a mouse;</p>
+<p>And a boy, a climber of trees: all the hopes of his house.</p>
+<p>Unwary, with open hands, he slept in the midst of his folk,</p>
+<p>And dreamed that he heard a voice crying without, and awoke,</p>
+<p>Leaping blindly afoot like one from a dream that he fears.</p>
+<p>A hellish glow and clouds were about him;&mdash;it roared in his ears</p>
+<p>Like the sound of the cataract fall that plunges sudden and steep;</p>
+<p>And Rah�ro swayed as he stood, and his reason was still asleep.</p>
+<p>Now the flame struck hard on the house, wind-wielded, a fracturing blow,</p>
+<p>And the end of the roof was burst and fell on the sleepers below;</p>
+<p>And the lofty hall, and the feast, and the prostrate bodies of folk,</p>
+<p>Shone red in his eyes a moment, and then were swallowed of smoke.</p>
+<p>In the mind of Rah�ro clearness came; and he opened his throat;</p>
+<p>And as when a squall comes sudden, the straining sail of a boat</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page160"></a>160</span></p>
+<p>Thunders aloud and bursts, so thundered the voice of the man.</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;The wind and the rain!&rdquo; he shouted, the mustering word of the clan,<a name="FnAnchor_14c" href="#Footnote_14c"><span class="sp">14</span></a></p>
+<p>And &ldquo;Up!&rdquo; and &ldquo;To arms, men of Vaiau!&rdquo; But silence replied,</p>
+<p>Or only the voice of the gusts of the fire, and nothing beside.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Rah�ro stooped and groped. He handled his womankind,</p>
+<p>But the fumes of the fire and the kava had quenched the life of their mind,</p>
+<p>And they lay like pillars prone; and his hand encountered the boy,</p>
+<p>And there sprang in the gloom of his soul a sudden lightning of joy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Him can I save!&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;if I were speedy enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he loosened the cloth from his loins, and swaddled the child in the stuff:</p>
+<p>And about the strength of his neck he knotted the burden well.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There where the roof had fallen, it roared like the mouth of hell.</p>
+<p>Thither Rah�ro went, stumbling on senseless folk,</p>
+<p>And grappled a post of the house, and began to climb in the smoke:</p>
+<p>The last alive of Vaiau; and the son borne by the sire.</p>
+<p>The post glowed in the grain with ulcers of eating fire,</p>
+<p>And the fire bit to the blood and mangled his hands and thighs;</p>
+<p>And the fumes sang in his head like wine and stung in his eyes;</p>
+<p>And still he climbed, and came to the top, the place of proof,</p>
+<p>And thrust a hand through the flame, and clambered alive on the roof.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page161"></a>161</span></p>
+<p>But even as he did so, the wind, in a garment of flames and pain,</p>
+<p>Wrapped him from head to heel; and the waistcloth parted in twain;</p>
+<p>And the living fruit of his loins dropped in the fire below.</p>
+
+<p class="s">About the blazing feast-house clustered the eyes of the foe,</p>
+<p>Watching, hand upon weapon, lest ever a soul should flee,</p>
+<p>Shading the brow from the glare, straining the neck to see.</p>
+<p>Only, to leeward, the flames in the wind swept far and wide,</p>
+<p>And the forest sputtered on fire; and there might no man abide.</p>
+<p>Thither Rah�ro crept, and dropped from the burning eaves,</p>
+<p>And crouching low to the ground, in a treble covert of leaves</p>
+<p>And fire and volleying smoke, ran for the life of his soul</p>
+<p>Unseen; and behind him under a furnace of ardent coal,</p>
+<p>Cairned with a wonder of flame, and blotting the night with smoke,</p>
+<p>Blazed and were smelted together the bones of all his folk.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He fled unguided at first; but hearing the breakers roar,</p>
+<p>Thitherward shaped his way, and came at length to the shore.</p>
+<p>Sound-limbed he was: dry-eyed; but smarted in every part;</p>
+<p>And the mighty cage of his ribs heaved on his straining heart</p>
+<p>With sorrow and rage. And &ldquo;Fools!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;fools of Vaiau,</p>
+<p>Heads of swine&mdash;gluttons&mdash;Alas! and where are they now?</p>
+<p>Those that I played with, those that nursed me, those that I nursed?</p>
+<p>God, and I outliving them! I, the least and the worst&mdash;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page162"></a>162</span></p>
+<p>I, that thought myself crafty, snared by this herd of swine,</p>
+<p>In the tortures of hell and desolate, stripped of all that was mine:</p>
+<p>All!&mdash;my friends and my fathers&mdash;the silver heads of yore</p>
+<p>That trooped to the council, the children that ran to the open door</p>
+<p>Crying with innocent voices and clasping a father&rsquo;s knees!</p>
+<p>And mine, my wife&mdash;my daughter&mdash;my sturdy climber of trees,</p>
+<p>Ah, never to climb again!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s" style="padding-left: 10em;">Thus in the dusk of the night</p>
+<p>(For clouds rolled in the sky and the moon was swallowed from sight),</p>
+<p>Pacing and gnawing his fists, Rah�ro raged by the shore.</p>
+<p>Vengeance: that must be his. But much was to do before;</p>
+<p>And first a single life to be snatched from a deadly place,</p>
+<p>A life, the root of revenge, surviving plant of the race:</p>
+<p>And next the race to be raised anew, and the lands of the clan</p>
+<p>Repeopled. So Rah�ro designed, a prudent man</p>
+<p>Even in wrath, and turned for the means of revenge and escape:</p>
+<p>A boat to be seized by stealth, a wife to be taken by rape.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Still was the dark lagoon; beyond on the coral wall,</p>
+<p>He saw the breakers shine, he heard them bellow and fall.</p>
+<p>Alone, on the top of the reef, a man with a flaming brand</p>
+<p>Walked, gazing and pausing, a fish-spear poised in his hand.</p>
+<p>The foam boiled to his calf when the mightier breakers came,</p>
+<p>And the torch shed in the wind scattering tufts of flame</p>
+<p>Afar on the dark lagoon a canoe lay idly at wait:</p>
+<p>A figure dimly guiding it: surely the fisherman&rsquo;s mate.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page163"></a>163</span></p>
+<p>Rah�ro saw and he smiled. He straightened his mighty thews:</p>
+<p>Naked, with never a weapon, and covered with scorch and bruise,</p>
+<p>He straightened his arms, he filled the void of his body with breath,</p>
+<p>And, strong as the wind in his manhood, doomed the fisher to death.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Silent he entered the water, and silently swam, and came</p>
+<p>There where the fisher walked, holding on high the flame.</p>
+<p>Loud on the pier of the reef volleyed the breach of the sea;</p>
+<p>And hard at the back of the man, Rah�ro crept to his knee</p>
+<p>On the coral, and suddenly sprang and seized him, the elder hand</p>
+<p>Clutching the joint of his throat, the other snatching the brand</p>
+<p>Ere it had time to fall, and holding it steady and high.</p>
+<p>Strong was the fisher, brave, and swift of mind and of eye&mdash;</p>
+<p>Strongly he threw in the clutch; but Rah�ro resisted the strain,</p>
+<p>And jerked, and the spine of life snapped with a crack in twain,</p>
+<p>And the man came slack in his hands and tumbled a lump at his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="s">One moment: and there, on the reef, where the breakers whitened and beat,</p>
+<p>Rah�ro was standing alone, glowing, and scorched and bare,</p>
+<p>A victor unknown of any, raising the torch in the air.</p>
+<p>But once he drank of his breath, and instantly set him to fish</p>
+<p>Like a man intent upon supper at home and a savoury dish.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page164"></a>164</span></p>
+<p>For what should the woman have seen? A man with a torch&mdash;and then</p>
+<p>A moment&rsquo;s blur of the eyes&mdash;and a man with a torch again.</p>
+<p>And the torch had scarcely been shaken. &ldquo;Ah, surely,&rdquo; Rah�ro said,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy born in the head;</p>
+<p>But time must be given the fool to nourish a fool&rsquo;s belief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the reef,</p>
+<p>Pausing at times and gazing, striking at times with the spear:</p>
+<p>&mdash;Lastly, uttered the call; and even as the boat drew near,</p>
+<p>Like a man that was done with its use, tossed the torch in the sea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Lightly he leaped on the boat beside the woman; and she</p>
+<p>Lightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle and place to sit;</p>
+<p>For now the torch was extinguished the night was black as the pit.</p>
+<p>Rah�ro set him to row, never a word he spoke,</p>
+<p>And the boat sang in the water urged by his vigorous stroke.</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;What ails you?&rdquo; the woman asked, &ldquo;and why did you drop the brand?</p>
+<p>We have only to kindle another as soon as we come to land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Never a word Rah�ro replied, but urged the canoe.</p>
+<p>And a chill fell on the woman.&mdash;&ldquo;Atta! speak! is it you?</p>
+<p>Speak! Why are you silent? Why do you bend aside?</p>
+<p>Wherefore steer to the seaward?&rdquo; thus she panted and cried.</p>
+<p>Never a word from the oarsman, toiling there in the dark;</p>
+<p>But right for a gate of the reef he silently headed the bark,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page165"></a>165</span></p>
+<p>And wielding the single paddle with passionate sweep on sweep,</p>
+<p>Drove her, the little fitted, forth on the open deep.</p>
+<p>And fear, there where she sat, froze the woman to stone:</p>
+<p>Not fear of the crazy boat and the weltering deep alone;</p>
+<p>But a keener fear of the night, the dark, and the ghostly hour,</p>
+<p>And the thing that drove the canoe with more than a mortal&rsquo;s power</p>
+<p>And more than a mortal&rsquo;s boldness. For much she knew of the dead</p>
+<p>That haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like men, for bread,</p>
+<p>And traffic with human fishers, or slay them and take their ware,</p>
+<p>Till the hour when the star of the dead<a name="FnAnchor_15c" href="#Footnote_15c"><span class="sp">15</span></a> goes down, and the morning air</p>
+<p>Blows, and the cocks are singing on shore. And surely she knew</p>
+<p>The speechless thing at her side belonged to the grave.<a name="FnAnchor_16c" href="#Footnote_16c"><span class="sp">16</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="s" style="padding-left: 18em;">It blew</p>
+<p>All night from the south; all night, Rah�ro contended and kept</p>
+<p>The prow to the cresting sea; and, silent as though she slept,</p>
+<p>The woman huddled and quaked. And now was the peep of day.</p>
+<p>High and long on their left the mountainous island lay;</p>
+<p>And over the peaks of Tai�rapu arrows of sunlight struck.</p>
+<p>On shore the birds were beginning to sing: the ghostly ruck</p>
+<p>Of the buried had long ago returned to the covered grave;</p>
+<p>And here on the sea, the woman, waxing suddenly brave,</p>
+<p>Turned her swiftly about and looked in the face of the man.</p>
+<p>And sure he was none that she knew, none of her country or clan:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page166"></a>166</span></p>
+<p>A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the marks of fire,</p>
+<p>But comely and great of stature, a man to obey and admire.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And Rah�ro regarded her also, fixed, with a frowning face,</p>
+<p>Judging the woman&rsquo;s fitness to mother a warlike race.</p>
+<p>Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the thigh,</p>
+<p>Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported his eye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Woman,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;last night the men of your folk&mdash;</p>
+<p>Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in smoke.</p>
+<p>It was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man of my hands,</p>
+<p>Escaped, a single life; and now to the empty lands</p>
+<p>And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with yourself, alone.</p>
+<p>Before your mother was born, the die of to-day was thrown</p>
+<p>And you selected:&mdash;your husband, vainly striving, to fall</p>
+<p>Broken between these hands:&mdash;yourself to be severed from all,</p>
+<p>The places, the people, you love&mdash;home, kindred, and clan&mdash;</p>
+<p>And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a kinless man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page167"></a>167</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>THE FEAST OF FAMINE</h3>
+
+<h4>MARQUESAN MANNERS</h4>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page168"></a>168</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page169"></a>169</span></p>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>THE PRIEST&rsquo;S VIGIL</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> all the land of the tribe was neither fish nor fruit,</p>
+<p>And the deepest pit of popoi stood empty to the foot.<a name="FnAnchor_1d" href="#Footnote_1d"><span class="sp">1</span></a></p>
+<p>The clans upon the left and the clans upon the right</p>
+<p>Now oiled their carven maces and scoured their daggers bright;</p>
+<p>They gat them to the thicket, to the deepest of the shade,</p>
+<p>And lay with sleepless eyes in the deadly ambuscade.</p>
+<p>And oft in the starry even the song of morning rose,</p>
+<p>What time the oven smoked in the country of their foes;</p>
+<p>For oft to loving hearts, and waiting ears and sight,</p>
+<p>The lads that went to forage returned not with the night.</p>
+<p>Now first the children sickened, and then the women paled,</p>
+<p>And the great arms of the warrior no more for war availed.</p>
+<p>Hushed was the deep drum, discarded was the dance;</p>
+<p>And those that met the priest now glanced at him askance.</p>
+<p>The priest was a man of years, his eyes were ruby-red,<a name="FnAnchor_2d" href="#Footnote_2d"><span class="sp">2</span></a></p>
+<p>He neither feared the dark nor the terrors of the dead,</p>
+<p>He knew the songs of races, the names of ancient date;</p>
+<p>And the beard upon his bosom would have bought the chief&rsquo;s estate.</p>
+<p>He dwelt in a high-built lodge, hard by the roaring shore,</p>
+<p>Raised on a noble terrace and with tikis<a name="FnAnchor_3d" href="#Footnote_3d"><span class="sp">3</span></a> at the door.</p>
+<p>Within it was full of riches, for he served his nation well,</p>
+<p>And full of the sound of breakers, like the hollow of a shell.</p>
+<p>For weeks he let them perish, gave never a helping sign,</p>
+<p>But sat on his oiled platform to commune with the divine,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page170"></a>170</span></p>
+<p>But sat on his high terrace, with the tikis by his side,</p>
+<p>And stared on the blue ocean, like a parrot, ruby-eyed.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain height:</p>
+<p>Out on the round of the sea the gems of the morning light,</p>
+<p>Up from the round of the sea the streamers of the sun;&mdash;</p>
+<p>But down in the depths of the valley the day was not begun.</p>
+<p>In the blue of the woody twilight burned red the cocoa-husk,</p>
+<p>And the women and men of the clan went forth to bathe in the dusk,</p>
+<p>A word that began to go round, a word, a whisper, a start:</p>
+<p>Hope that leaped in the bosom, fear that knocked on the heart:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See, the priest is not risen&mdash;look, for his door is fast!</p>
+<p>He is going to name the victims; he is going to help us at last.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like one of the dead,</p>
+<p>The priest lay still in his house, with the roar of the sea in his head;</p>
+<p>There was never a foot on the floor, there was never a whisper of speech;</p>
+<p>Only the leering tikis stared on the blinding beach.</p>
+<p>Again were the mountains fired, again the morning broke;</p>
+<p>And all the houses lay still, but the house of the priest awoke.</p>
+<p>Close in their covering roofs lay and trembled the clan,</p>
+<p>But the aged, red-eyed priest ran forth like a lunatic man;</p>
+<p>And the village panted to see him in the jewels of death again,</p>
+<p>In the silver beards of the old and the hair of women slain.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171"></a>171</span></p>
+<p>Frenzy shook in his limbs, frenzy shone in his eyes,</p>
+<p>And still and again as he ran, the valley rang with his cries.</p>
+<p>All day long in the land, by cliff and thicket and den,</p>
+<p>He ran his lunatic rounds, and howled for the flesh of men;</p>
+<p>All day long he ate not, nor ever drank of the brook;</p>
+<p>And all day long in their houses the people listened and shook&mdash;</p>
+<p>All day long in their houses they listened with bated breath,</p>
+<p>And never a soul went forth, for the sight of the priest was death.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Three were the days of his running, as the gods appointed of yore,</p>
+<p>Two the nights of his sleeping alone in the place of gore:</p>
+<p>The drunken slumber of frenzy twice he drank to the lees,</p>
+<p>On the sacred stones of the High-place under the sacred trees;</p>
+<p>With a lamp at his ashen head he lay in the place of the feast,</p>
+<p>And the sacred leaves of the banyan rustled around the priest.</p>
+<p>Last, when the stated even fell upon terrace and tree,</p>
+<p>And the shade of the lofty island lay leagues away to sea,</p>
+<p>And all the valleys of verdure were heavy with manna and musk,</p>
+<p>The wreck of the red-eyed priest came gasping home in the dusk.</p>
+<p>He reeled across the village, he staggered along the shore,</p>
+<p>And between the leering tikis crept groping through his door.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There went a stir through the lodges, the voice of speech awoke;</p>
+<p>Once more from the builded platforms arose the evening smoke.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page172"></a>172</span></p>
+<p>And those who were mighty in war, and those renowned for an art</p>
+<p>Sat in their stated seats and talked of the morrow apart.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LOVERS</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Hark</span>! away in the woods&mdash;for the ears of love are sharp&mdash;</p>
+<p>Stealthily, quietly touched, the note of the one-stringed harp.<a name="FnAnchor_4d" href="#Footnote_4d"><span class="sp">4</span></a></p>
+<p>In the lighted house of her father, why should Taheia start?</p>
+<p>Taheia heavy of hair, Taheia tender of heart,</p>
+<p>Taheia the well-descended, a bountiful dealer in love,</p>
+<p>Nimble of foot like the deer, and kind of eye like the dove?</p>
+<p>Sly and shy as a cat, with never a change of face,</p>
+<p>Taheia slips to the door, like one that would breathe a space;</p>
+<p>Saunters and pauses, and looks at the stars, and lists to the seas;</p>
+<p>Then sudden and swift as a cat, she plunges under the trees.</p>
+<p>Swift as a cat she runs, with her garment gathered high,</p>
+<p>Leaping, nimble of foot, running, certain of eye;</p>
+<p>And ever to guide her way over the smooth and the sharp,</p>
+<p>Ever nearer and nearer the note of the one-stringed harp;</p>
+<p>Till at length, in a glade of the wood, with a naked mountain above,</p>
+<p>The sound of the harp thrown down, and she in the arms of her love.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rua,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Taheia,&rdquo; they cry&mdash;&ldquo;my heart, my soul, and my eyes,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And clasp and sunder and kiss, with lovely laughter and sighs,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page173"></a>173</span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rua!&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Taheia, my love,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Rua, star of my night,</p>
+<p>Clasp me, hold me, and love me, single spring of delight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">And Rua folded her close, he folded her near and long,</p>
+<p>The living knit to the living, and sang the lover&rsquo;s song:</p>
+
+<p class="s i3"><i>Night, night it is, night upon the palms.</i></p>
+<p class="i3"><i>Night, night it is, the land-wind has blown.</i></p>
+<p class="i3"><i>Starry, starry night, over deep and height;</i></p>
+<p class="i3"><i>Love, love in the valley, love all alone.</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Taheia, heavy of hair, a foolish thing have we done,</p>
+<p>To bind what gods have sundered unkindly into one.</p>
+<p>Why should a lowly lover have touched Taheia&rsquo;s skirt,</p>
+<p>Taheia the well-descended, and Rua child of the dirt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&mdash;&ldquo;On high with the haka-ikis my father sits in state,</p>
+<p>Ten times fifty kinsmen salute him in the gate;</p>
+<p>Round all his martial body, and in bands across his face,</p>
+<p>The marks of the tattooer proclaim his lofty place.</p>
+<p>I too, in the hands of the cunning, in the sacred cabin of palm,<a name="FnAnchor_5d" href="#Footnote_5d"><span class="sp">5</span></a></p>
+<p>Have shrunk like the mimosa, and bleated like the lamb;</p>
+<p>Round half my tender body, that none shall clasp but you,</p>
+<p>For a crest and a fair adornment go dainty lines of blue.</p>
+<p>Love, love, beloved Rua, love levels all degrees,</p>
+<p>And the well-tattooed Taheia clings panting to your knees.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&mdash;&ldquo;Taheia, song of the morning, how long is the longest love?</p>
+<p>A cry, a clasp of the hands, a star that falls from above!</p>
+<p>Ever at morn in the blue, and at night when all is black,</p>
+<p>Ever it skulks and trembles with the hunter, Death, on its track.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page174"></a>174</span></p>
+<p>Hear me, Taheia, death! For to-morrow the priest shall awake,</p>
+<p>And the names be named of the victims to bleed for the nation&rsquo;s sake;</p>
+<p>And first of the numbered many that shall be slain ere noon,</p>
+<p>Rua the child of the dirt, Rua the kinless loon.</p>
+<p>For him shall the drum be beat, for him be raised the song,</p>
+<p>For him to the sacred High-place the chanting people throng,</p>
+<p>For him the oven smoke as for a speechless beast,</p>
+<p>And the sire of my Taheia come greedy to the feast.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rua, be silent, spare me. Taheia closes her ears.</p>
+<p>Pity my yearning heart, pity my girlish years!</p>
+<p>Flee from the cruel hands, flee from the knife and coal,</p>
+<p>Lie hid in the deeps of the woods, Rua, sire of my soul!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Whither to flee, Taheia, whither in all of the land?</p>
+<p>The fires of the bloody kitchen are kindled on every hand;</p>
+<p>On every hand in the isle a hungry whetting of teeth,</p>
+<p>Eyes in the trees above, arms in the brush beneath.</p>
+<p>Patience to lie in wait, cunning to follow the sleuth,</p>
+<p>Abroad the foes I have fought, and at home the friends of my youth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Love, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer eye,</p>
+<p>Hence from the arms of love you go not forth to die.</p>
+<p>There, where the broken mountain drops sheer into the glen,</p>
+<p>There shall you find a hold from the boldest hunter of men;</p>
+<p>There, in the deep recess, where the sun falls only at noon,</p>
+<p>And only once in the night enters the light of the moon,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page175"></a>175</span></p>
+<p>Nor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain when it falls with a shout;</p>
+<p>For death and the fear of death beleaguer the valley about.</p>
+<p>Tapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon despair;</p>
+<p>Tapu, but what of that? If Rua can only dare.</p>
+<p>Tapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every one right;</p>
+<p>But the god of every tapu is not always quick to smite.</p>
+<p>Lie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful gods,</p>
+<p>Sleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of the kindly sods,</p>
+<p>Sleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake for you;</p>
+<p>And whenever the land-wind blows and the woods are heavy with dew,</p>
+<p>Alone through the horror of night,<a name="FnAnchor_6d" href="#Footnote_6d"><span class="sp">6</span></a> with food for the soul of her love,</p>
+<p>Taheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the dove.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treacherous things,</p>
+<p>Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of things;</p>
+<p>The souls of the dead, the stranglers, that perch in the trees of the wood,</p>
+<p>Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and read;</p>
+<p>Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her lover in need?</p>
+<p>Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the fight;</p>
+<p>The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man in the night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia arose</p>
+<p>And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as the swallow goes;</p>
+<p>And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and followed her flight,</p>
+<p>And there were the lodges below, each with its door alight;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page176"></a>176</span></p>
+<p>From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out the even long</p>
+<p>Sudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone of song;</p>
+<p>The quiet passage of souls over his head in the trees;<a name="FnAnchor_7d" href="#Footnote_7d"><span class="sp">7</span></a></p>
+<p>And from all around the haven the crumbling thunder of seas.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell, my home,&rdquo; said Rua. &ldquo;Farewell, O quiet seat!</p>
+<p>To-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death shall beat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>THE FEAST</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dawn</span> as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked peak,</p>
+<p>And all the village was stirring, for now was the priest to speak.</p>
+<p>Forth on his terrace he came, and sat with the chief in talk;</p>
+<p>His lips were blackened with fever, his cheeks were whiter than chalk;</p>
+<p>Fever clutched at his hands, fever nodded his head,</p>
+<p>But, quiet and steady and cruel, his eyes shone ruby-red.</p>
+<p>In the earliest rays of the sun the chief rose up content;</p>
+<p>Braves were summoned, and drummers; messengers came and went;</p>
+<p>Braves ran to their lodges; weapons were snatched from the wall;</p>
+<p>The commons herded together, and fear was over them all.</p>
+<p>Festival dresses they wore, but the tongue was dry in their mouth,</p>
+<p>And the blinking eyes in their faces skirted from north to south.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page177"></a>177</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Now to the sacred enclosure gathered the greatest and least,</p>
+<p>And from under the shade of the banyan arose the voice of the feast,</p>
+<p>The frenzied roll of the drum, and a swift monotonous song.</p>
+<p>Higher the sun swam up; the trade-wind level and strong</p>
+<p>Awoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the fans aloud,</p>
+<p>And over the garlanded heads and shining robes of the crowd</p>
+<p>Tossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the jewels of sun.</p>
+<p>Forty the tale of the drums, and the forty throbbed like one;</p>
+<p>A thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even chorus of song,</p>
+<p>Swift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thousand strong.</p>
+<p>And the old men leered at the ovens and licked their lips for the food;</p>
+<p>And the women stared at the lads, and laughed and looked to the wood.</p>
+<p>As when the sweltering baker, at night, when the city is dead,</p>
+<p>Alone in the trough of labour treads and fashions the bread;</p>
+<p>So in the heat, and the reek, and the touch of woman and man,</p>
+<p>The naked spirit of evil kneaded the hearts of the clan.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now cold was at many a heart, and shaking in many a seat;</p>
+<p>For there were the empty baskets, but who was to furnish the meat?</p>
+<p>For here was the nation assembled, and there were the ovens anigh,</p>
+<p>And out of a thousand singers nine were numbered to die.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page178"></a>178</span></p>
+<p>Till, of a sudden, a shock, a mace in the air, a yell,</p>
+<p>And, struck in the edge of the crowd, the first of the victims fell.<a name="FnAnchor_8d" href="#Footnote_8d"><span class="sp">8</span></a></p>
+<p>Terror and horrible glee divided the shrinking clan,</p>
+<p>Terror of what was to follow, glee for a diet of man.</p>
+<p>Frenzy hurried the chant, frenzy rattled the drums;</p>
+<p>The nobles, high on the terrace, greedily mouthed their thumbs;</p>
+<p>And once and again and again, in the ignorant crowd below,</p>
+<p>Once and again and again descended the murderous blow.</p>
+<p>Now smoked the oven, and now, with the cutting lip of a shell,</p>
+<p>A butcher of ninety winters jointed the bodies well.</p>
+<p>Unto the carven lodge, silent, in order due,</p>
+<p>The grandees of the nation one after one withdrew;</p>
+<p>And a line of laden bearers brought to the terrace foot,</p>
+<p>On poles across their shoulders, the last reserve of fruit.</p>
+<p>The victims bled for the nobles in the old appointed way;</p>
+<p>The fruit was spread for the commons, for all should eat to-day.</p>
+<p>And now was the kava brewed, and now the cocoa ran,</p>
+<p>Now was the hour of the dance for child and woman and man;</p>
+<p>And mirth was in every heart and a garland on every head,</p>
+<p>And all was well with the living and well with the eight who were dead.</p>
+<p>Only the chiefs and the priest talked and consulted a while:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; they said, and &ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; and nodded and seemed to smile:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rua the child of dirt, the creature of common clay,</p>
+<p>Rua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page179"></a>179</span></p>
+<p>Out of the groves of the valley, where clear the blackbirds sang,</p>
+<p>Sheer from the trees of the valley the face of the mountain sprang;</p>
+<p>Sheer and bare it rose, unscalable barricade,</p>
+<p>Beaten and blown against by the generous draught of the trade.</p>
+<p>Dawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light,</p>
+<p>Close on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars at night.</p>
+<p>Here and there in a cleft clustered contorted trees,</p>
+<p>Or the silver beard of a stream hung and swung in the breeze,</p>
+<p>High overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped for the main,</p>
+<p>And silently sprinkled below in thin perennial rain.</p>
+<p>Dark in the staring noon, dark was Rua&rsquo;s ravine,</p>
+<p>Damp and cold was the air, and the face of the cliffs was green.</p>
+<p>Here, in the rocky pit, accursed already of old,</p>
+<p>On a stone in the midst of a river, Rua sat and was cold.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Valley of mid-day shadows, valley of silent falls,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rua sang, and his voice went hollow about the walls,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Valley of shadow and rock, a doleful prison to me,</p>
+<p>What is the life you can give to a child of the sun and the sea?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Rua arose and came to the open mouth of the glen,</p>
+<p>Whence he beheld the woods, and the sea, and houses of men.</p>
+<p>Wide blew the riotous trade, and smelt in his nostrils good;</p>
+<p>It bowed the boats on the bay, and tore and divided the wood;</p>
+<p>It smote and sundered the groves as Moses smote with the rod,</p>
+<p>And the streamers of all the trees blew like banners abroad;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page180"></a>180</span></p>
+<p>And ever and on, in a lull, the trade-wind brought him along</p>
+<p>A far-off patter of drums and a far-off whisper of song.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Swift as the swallow&rsquo;s wings, the diligent hands on the drum</p>
+<p>Fluttered and hurried and throbbed. &ldquo;Ah, woe that I hear you come,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rua cried in his grief, &ldquo;a sorrowful sound to me,</p>
+<p>Mounting far and faint from the resonant shore of the sea!</p>
+<p>Woe in the song! for the grave breathes in the singers&rsquo; breath,</p>
+<p>And I hear in the tramp of the drums the beat of the heart of death.</p>
+<p>Home of my youth! no more through all the length of the years,</p>
+<p>No more to the place of the echoes of early laughter and tears,</p>
+<p>No more shall Rua return; no more as the evening ends,</p>
+<p>To crowded eyes of welcome, to the reaching hands of friends.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">All day long from the High-place the drums and the singing came,</p>
+<p>And the even fell, and the sun went down, a wheel of flame;</p>
+<p>And night came gleaning the shadows and hushing the sounds of the wood;</p>
+<p>And silence slept on all, where Rua sorrowed and stood.</p>
+<p>But still from the shore of the bay the sound of the festival rang,</p>
+<p>And still the crowd in the High-place danced and shouted and sang.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now over all the isle terror was breathed abroad</p>
+<p>Of shadowy hands from the trees and shadowy snares in the sod;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181"></a>181</span></p>
+<p>And before the nostrils of night, the shuddering hunter of men</p>
+<p>Hurried, with beard on shoulder, back to his lighted den.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Taheia, here to my side!&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Rua, my Rua, you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And cold from the clutch of terror, cold with the damp of the dew,</p>
+<p>Taheia, heavy of hair, leaped through the dark to his arms;</p>
+<p>Taheia leaped to his clasp, and was folded in from alarms.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Rua, beloved, here, see what your love has brought;</p>
+<p>Coming&mdash;alas! returning&mdash;swift as the shuttle of thought;</p>
+<p>Returning, alas! for to-night, with the beaten drum and the voice,</p>
+<p>In the shine of many torches must the sleepless clan rejoice;</p>
+<p>And Taheia the well-descended, the daughter of chief and priest,</p>
+<p>Taheia must sit in her place in the crowded bench of the feast.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So it was spoken; and she, girding her garment high,</p>
+<p>Fled and was swallowed of woods, swift as the sight of an eye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Night over isle and sea rolled her curtain of stars,</p>
+<p>Then a trouble awoke in the air, the east was banded with bars;</p>
+<p>Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain height;</p>
+<p>Dawn, in the deepest glen, fell a wonder of light;</p>
+<p>High and clear stood the palms in the eye of the brightening east,</p>
+<p>And lo! from the sides of the sea the broken sound of the feast!</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182"></a>182</span></p>
+<p>As, when in days of summer, through open windows, the fly</p>
+<p>Swift as a breeze and loud as a trump goes by,</p>
+<p>But when frosts in the field have pinched the wintering mouse,</p>
+<p>Blindly noses and buzzes and hums in the firelit house:</p>
+<p>So the sound of the feast gallantly trampled at night,</p>
+<p>So it staggered and drooped, and droned in the morning light.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>THE RAID</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">It</span> chanced that as Rua sat in the valley of silent falls</p>
+<p>He heard a calling of doves from high on the cliffy walls.</p>
+<p>Fire had fashioned of yore, and time had broken, the rocks;</p>
+<p>There were rooting crannies for trees and nesting-places for flocks;</p>
+<p>And he saw on the top of the cliffs, looking up from the pit of the shade,</p>
+<p>A flicker of wings and sunshine, and trees that swung in the trade.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The trees swing in the trade,&rdquo; quoth Rua, doubtful of words,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the sun stares from the sky, but what should trouble the birds?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Up from the shade he gazed, where high the parapet shone,</p>
+<p>And he was aware of a ledge and of things that moved thereon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What manner of things are these? Are they spirits abroad by day?</p>
+<p>Or the foes of my clan that are come, bringing death by a perilous way?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183"></a>183</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The valley was gouged like a vessel, and round like the vessel&rsquo;s lip,</p>
+<p>With a cape of the side of the hill thrust forth like the bows of a ship.</p>
+<p>On the top of the face of the cape a volley of sun struck fair,</p>
+<p>And the cape overhung like a chin a gulf of sunless air.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Silence, heart! What is that?&mdash;that, which flickered and shone,</p>
+<p>Into the sun for an instant, and in an instant gone?</p>
+<p>Was it a warrior&rsquo;s plume, a warrior&rsquo;s girdle of hair?</p>
+<p>Swung in the loop of a rope, is he making a bridge of the air?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Once and again Rua saw, in the trenchant edge of the sky,</p>
+<p>The giddy conjuring done. And then, in the blink of an eye,</p>
+<p>A scream caught in with the breath, a whirling packet of limbs,</p>
+<p>A lump that dived in the gulf, more swift than a dolphin swims;</p>
+<p>And there was a lump at his feet, and eyes were alive in the lump.</p>
+<p>Sick was the soul of Rua, ambushed close in a clump;</p>
+<p>Sick of soul he drew near, making his courage stout;</p>
+<p>And he looked in the face of the thing, and the life of the thing went out.</p>
+<p>And he gazed on the tattooed limbs, and, behold, he knew the man:</p>
+<p>Hoka, a chief of the Vais, the truculent foe of his clan:</p>
+<p>Hoka a moment since that stepped in the loop of the rope,</p>
+<p>Filled with the lust of war, and alive with courage and hope.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Again to the giddy cornice Rua lifted his eyes,</p>
+<p>And again beheld men passing in the armpit of the skies.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184"></a>184</span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Foes of my race!&rdquo; cried Rua, &ldquo;the mouth of Rua is true:</p>
+<p>Never a shark in the deep is nobler of soul than you.</p>
+<p>There was never a nobler foray, never a bolder plan;</p>
+<p>Never a dizzier path was trod by the children of man;</p>
+<p>And Rua, your evil-doer through all the days of his years,</p>
+<p>Counts it honour to hate you, honour to fall by your spears.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Rua straightened his back. &ldquo;O Vais, a scheme for a scheme!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cried Rua and turned and descended the turbulent stair of the stream,</p>
+<p>Leaping from rock to rock as the water-wagtail at home</p>
+<p>Flits through resonant valleys and skims by boulder and foam.</p>
+<p>And Rua burst from the glen and leaped on the shore of the brook,</p>
+<p>And straight for the roofs of the clan his vigorous way he took.</p>
+<p>Swift were the heels of his flight, and loud behind as he went</p>
+<p>Rattled the leaping stones on the line of his long descent.</p>
+<p>And ever he thought as he ran, and caught at his gasping breath,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O the fool of a Rua, Rua that runs to his death!</p>
+<p>But the right is the right,&rdquo; thought Rua, and ran like the wind on the foam,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The right is the right for ever, and home for ever home.</p>
+<p>For what though the oven smoke? And what though I die ere morn?</p>
+<p>There was I nourished and tended, and there was Taheia born.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Noon was high on the High-place, the second noon of the feast;</p>
+<p>And heat and shameful slumber weighed on people and priest;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185"></a>185</span></p>
+<p>And the heart drudged slow in bodies heavy with monstrous meals;</p>
+<p>And the senseless limbs were scattered abroad like spokes of wheels;</p>
+<p>And crapulous women sat and stared at the stones anigh</p>
+<p>With a bestial droop of the lip and a swinish rheum in the eye.</p>
+<p>As about the dome of the bees in the time for the drones to fall,</p>
+<p>The dead and the maimed are scattered, and lie, and stagger, and crawl;</p>
+<p>So on the grades of the terrace, in the ardent eye of the day,</p>
+<p>The half-awake and the sleepers clustered and crawled and lay;</p>
+<p>And loud as the dome of the bees, in the time of a swarming horde,</p>
+<p>A horror of many insects hung in the air and roared.</p>
+<p>Rua looked and wondered; he said to himself in his heart:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor are the pleasures of life, and death is the better part.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But lo! on the higher benches a cluster of tranquil folk</p>
+<p>Sat by themselves, nor raised their serious eyes, nor spoke:</p>
+<p>Women with robes unruffled and garlands duly arranged,</p>
+<p>Gazing far from the feast with faces of people estranged;</p>
+<p>And quiet amongst the quiet, and fairer than all the fair,</p>
+<p>Taheia, the well-descended, Taheia, heavy of hair.</p>
+<p>And the soul of Rua awoke, courage enlightened his eyes</p>
+<p>And he uttered a summoning shout and called on the clan to rise.</p>
+<p>Over against him at once, in the spotted shade of the trees,</p>
+<p>Owlish and blinking creatures scrambled to hands and knees;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page186"></a>186</span></p>
+<p>On the grades of the sacred terrace, the driveller woke to fear,</p>
+<p>And the hand of the ham-drooped warrior brandished a wavering spear.</p>
+<p>And Rua folded his arms, and scorn discovered his teeth;</p>
+<p>Above the war-crowd gibbered, and Rua stood smiling beneath.</p>
+<p>Thick, like leaves in the autumn, faint, like April sleet,</p>
+<p>Missiles from tremulous hands quivered around his feet;</p>
+<p>And Taheia leaped from her place; and the priest, the ruby-eyed,</p>
+<p>Ran to the front of the terrace, and brandished his arms and cried:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hold, O fools, he brings tidings!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Hold, &rsquo;tis the love of my heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Till lo! in front of the terrace, Rua pierced with a dart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Taheia cherished his head, and the aged priest stood by,</p>
+<p>And gazed with eyes of ruby at Rua&rsquo;s darkening eye.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Taheia, here is the end, I die a death for a man.</p>
+<p>I have given the life of my soul to save an unsavable clan.</p>
+<p>See them, the drooping of hams! behold me the blinking crew;</p>
+<p>Fifty spears they cast, and one of fifty true!</p>
+<p>And you, O priest, the foreteller, foretell for yourself if you can,</p>
+<p>Foretell the hour of the day when the Vais shall burst on your clan!</p>
+<p>By the head of the tapu cleft, with death and fire in their hand,</p>
+<p>Thick and silent like ants, the warriors swarm in the land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">And they tell that when next the sun had climbed to the noonday skies,</p>
+<p>It shone on the smoke of feasting in the country of the Vais.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187"></a>187</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>TICONDEROGA</h3>
+
+<h4>A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS</h4>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188"></a>188</span></p>
+<h3>TICONDEROGA</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">This</span> is the tale of the man</p>
+  <p class="i1">Who heard a word in the night</p>
+<p>In the land of the heathery hills,</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the days of the feud and the fight.</p>
+<p>By the sides of the rainy sea,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Where never a stranger came,</p>
+<p>On the awful lips of the dead,</p>
+  <p class="i1">He heard the outlandish name.</p>
+<p>It sang in his sleeping ears,</p>
+  <p class="i1">It hummed in his waking head:</p>
+<p>The name&mdash;Ticonderoga,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The utterance of the dead.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SAYING OF THE NAME</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">On</span> the loch-sides of Appin,</p>
+  <p class="i1">When the mist blew from the sea,</p>
+<p>A Stewart stood with a Cameron:</p>
+  <p class="i1">An angry man was he.</p>
+<p>The blood beat in his ears,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The blood ran hot to his head,</p>
+<p>The mist blew from the sea,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And there was the Cameron dead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O, what have I done to my friend,</p>
+  <p class="i1">O, what have I done to mysel&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>That he should be cold and dead,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And I in the danger of all?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page189"></a>189</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Nothing but danger about me,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Danger behind and before,</p>
+<p>Death at wait in the heather</p>
+  <p class="i1">In Appin and Mamore,</p>
+<p>Hate at all of the ferries,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And death at each of the fords,</p>
+<p>Camerons priming gun-locks</p>
+  <p class="i1">And Camerons sharpening swords.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">But this was a man of counsel,</p>
+  <p class="i1">This was a man of a score,</p>
+<p>There dwelt no pawkier Stewart</p>
+  <p class="i1">In Appin or Mamore.</p>
+<p>He looked on the blowing mist,</p>
+  <p class="i1">He looked on the awful dead,</p>
+<p>And there came a smile on his face</p>
+  <p class="i1">And there slipped a thought in his head.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Out over cairn and moss,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Out over scrog and scaur,</p>
+<p>He ran as runs the clansman</p>
+  <p class="i1">That bears the cross of war.</p>
+<p>His heart beat in his body,</p>
+  <p class="i1">His hair clove to his face,</p>
+<p>When he came at last in the gloaming</p>
+  <p class="i1">To the dead man&rsquo;s brother&rsquo;s place.</p>
+<p>The east was white with the moon,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The west with the sun was red,</p>
+<p>And there, in the house-doorway,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Stood the brother of the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;I have slain a man to my danger,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I have slain a man to my death.</p>
+<p>I put my soul in your hands,&rdquo;</p>
+  <p class="i1">The panting Stewart saith.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190"></a>190</span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I lay it bare in your hands,</p>
+  <p class="i1">For I know your hands are leal;</p>
+<p>And be you my targe and bulwark</p>
+  <p class="i1">From the bullet and the steel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Then up and spoke the Cameron,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And gave him his hand again:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There shall never a man in Scotland</p>
+  <p class="i1">Set faith in me in vain;</p>
+<p>And whatever man you have slaughtered,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Of whatever name or line,</p>
+<p>By my sword and yonder mountain,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I make your quarrel mine.<a name="FnAnchor_1e" href="#Footnote_1e"><span class="sp">1</span></a></p>
+<p>I bid you in to my fireside,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I share with you house and hall;</p>
+<p>It stands upon my honour</p>
+  <p class="i1">To see you safe from all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">It fell in the time of midnight,</p>
+  <p class="i1">When the fox barked in the den,</p>
+<p>And the plaids were over the faces</p>
+  <p class="i1">In all the houses of men,</p>
+<p>That as the living Cameron</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lay sleepless on his bed,</p>
+<p>Out of the night and the other world,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Came in to him the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;My blood is on the heather,</p>
+  <p class="i1">My bones are on the hill;</p>
+<p>There is joy in the home of ravens</p>
+  <p class="i1">That the young shall eat their fill.</p>
+<p>My blood is poured in the dust,</p>
+  <p class="i1">My soul is spilled in the air;</p>
+<p>And the man that has undone me</p>
+  <p class="i1">Sleeps in my brother&rsquo;s care.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page192"></a>192</span></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m wae for your death, my brother,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But if all of my house were dead,</p>
+<p>I couldna withdraw the plighted hand,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor break the word once said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;O, what shall I say to our father,</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the place to which I fare?</p>
+<p>O, what shall I say to our mother,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Who greets to see me there?</p>
+<p>And to all the kindly Camerons</p>
+  <p class="i1">That have lived and died long-syne&mdash;</p>
+<p>Is this the word you send them,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Fause-hearted brother mine?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;It&rsquo;s neither fear nor duty,</p>
+  <p class="i1">It&rsquo;s neither quick nor dead,</p>
+<p>Shall gar me withdraw the plighted hand,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Or break the word once said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thrice in the time of midnight,</p>
+  <p class="i1">When the fox barked in the den,</p>
+<p>And the plaids were over the faces</p>
+  <p class="i1">In all the houses of men,</p>
+<p>Thrice as the living Cameron</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lay sleepless on his bed,</p>
+<p>Out of the night and the other world</p>
+  <p class="i1">Came in to him the dead,</p>
+<p>And cried to him for vengeance</p>
+  <p class="i1">On the man that laid him low;</p>
+<p>And thrice the living Cameron</p>
+  <p class="i1">Told the dead Cameron, no.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Thrice have you seen me, brother,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But now shall see me no more,</p>
+<p>Till you meet your angry fathers</p>
+  <p class="i1">Upon the farther shore.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page193"></a>193</span></p>
+<p>Thrice have I spoken, and now,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Before the cock be heard,</p>
+<p>I take my leave for ever</p>
+  <p class="i1">With the naming of a word.</p>
+<p>It shall sing in your sleeping ears,</p>
+  <p class="i1">It shall hum in your waking head,</p>
+<p>The name&mdash;Ticonderoga,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the warning of the dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now when the night was over</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the time of people&rsquo;s fears,</p>
+<p>The Cameron walked abroad,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the word was in his ears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Many a name I know,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But never a name like this;</p>
+<p>O, where shall I find a skilly man</p>
+  <p class="i1">Shall tell me what it is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With many a man he counselled</p>
+  <p class="i1">Of high and low degree,</p>
+<p>With the herdsman on the mountains</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the fishers of the sea.</p>
+<p>And he came and went unweary,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And read the books of yore,</p>
+<p>And the runes that were written of old</p>
+  <p class="i1">On stones upon the moor.</p>
+<p>And many a name he was told,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But never the name of his fears&mdash;</p>
+<p>Never, in east or west,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The name that rang in his ears:</p>
+<p>Names of men and of clans;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Names for the grass and the tree,</p>
+<p>For the smallest tarn in the mountains,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The smallest reef in the sea:</p>
+<p>Names for the high and low,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The names of the craig and the flat;</p>
+<p>But in all the land of Scotland,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Never a name like that.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page194"></a>194</span></p>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SEEKING OF THE NAME</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">And</span> now there was speech in the south,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And a man of the south that was wise,</p>
+<p>A periwig&rsquo;d lord of London,<a name="FnAnchor_2e" href="#Footnote_2e"><span class="sp">2</span></a></p>
+  <p class="i1">Called on the clans to rise.</p>
+<p>And the riders rode, and the summons</p>
+  <p class="i1">Came to the western shore,</p>
+<p>To the land of the sea and the heather,</p>
+  <p class="i1">To Appin and Mamore.</p>
+<p>It called on all to gather</p>
+  <p class="i1">From every scrog and scaur,</p>
+<p>That loved their fathers&rsquo; tartan</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the ancient game of war.</p>
+<p>And down the watery valley</p>
+  <p class="i1">And up the windy hill,</p>
+<p>Once more, as in the olden,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The pipes were sounding shrill;</p>
+<p>Again in Highland sunshine</p>
+  <p class="i1">The naked steel was bright;</p>
+<p>And the lads, once more in tartan,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Went forth again to fight.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;O, why should I dwell here</p>
+  <p class="i1">With a weird upon my life,</p>
+<p>When the clansmen shout for battle</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the war-swords clash in strife?</p>
+<p>I canna joy at feast,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I canna sleep in bed,</p>
+<p>For the wonder of the word</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the warning of the dead.</p>
+<p>It sings in my sleeping ears,</p>
+  <p class="i1">It hums in my waking head,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page195"></a>195</span></p>
+<p>The name&mdash;Ticonderoga,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The utterance of the dead.</p>
+<p>Then up, and with the fighting men</p>
+  <p class="i1">To march away from here,</p>
+<p>Till the cry of the great war-pipe</p>
+  <p class="i1">Shall drown it in my ear!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Where flew King George&rsquo;s ensign</p>
+  <p class="i1">The plaided soldiers went:</p>
+<p>They drew the sword in Germany,</p>
+  <p class="i1">In Flanders pitched the tent.</p>
+<p>The bells of foreign cities</p>
+  <p class="i1">Rang far across the plain:</p>
+<p>They passed the happy Rhine,</p>
+  <p class="i1">They drank the rapid Main.</p>
+<p>Through Asiatic jungles</p>
+  <p class="i1">The Tartans filed their way,</p>
+<p>And the neighing of the war-pipes</p>
+  <p class="i1">Struck terror in Cathay.<a name="FnAnchor_3e" href="#Footnote_3e"><span class="sp">3</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Many a name have I heard,&rdquo; he thought,</p>
+  <p class="i1">&ldquo;In all the tongues of men,</p>
+<p>Full many a name both here and there,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Full many both now and then.</p>
+<p>When I was at home in my father&rsquo;s house,</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the land of the naked knee,</p>
+<p>Between the eagles that fly in the lift</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the herrings that swim in the sea,</p>
+<p>And now that I am a captain-man</p>
+  <p class="i1">With a braw cockade in my hat&mdash;</p>
+<p>Many a name have I heard,&rdquo; he thought,</p>
+  <p class="i1">&ldquo;But never a name like that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page196"></a>196</span></p>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>THE PLACE OF THE NAME</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">There</span> fell a war in a woody place,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lay far across the sea,</p>
+<p>A war of the march in the mirk midnight</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the shot from behind the tree,</p>
+<p>The shaven head and the painted face,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The silent foot in the wood,</p>
+<p>In the land of a strange, outlandish tongue</p>
+  <p class="i1">That was hard to be understood.</p>
+
+<p class="s">It fell about the gloaming,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The general stood with his staff,</p>
+<p>He stood and he looked east and west</p>
+  <p class="i1">With little mind to laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Far have I been, and much have I seen,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And kennt both gain and loss,</p>
+<p>But here we have woods on every hand</p>
+  <p class="i1">And a kittle water to cross.</p>
+<p>Far have I been, and much have I seen,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But never the beat of this;</p>
+<p>And there&rsquo;s one must go down to that water-side</p>
+  <p class="i1">To see how deep it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">It fell in the dusk of the night</p>
+  <p class="i1">When unco things betide,</p>
+<p>The skilly captain, the Cameron,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Went down to that waterside.</p>
+<p>Canny and soft the captain went;</p>
+  <p class="i1">And a man of the woody land,</p>
+<p>With the shaven head and the painted face,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Went down at his right hand.</p>
+<p>It fell in the quiet night,</p>
+  <p class="i1">There was never a sound to ken;</p>
+<p>But all of the woods to the right and the left</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lay filled with the painted men.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page197"></a>197</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Far have I been, and much have I seen,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Both as a man and boy,</p>
+<p>But never have I set forth a foot,</p>
+  <p class="i1">On so perilous an employ.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It fell in the dusk of the night</p>
+  <p class="i1">When unco things betide,</p>
+<p>That he was aware of a captain-man</p>
+  <p class="i1">Drew near to the water-side.</p>
+<p>He was aware of his coming</p>
+  <p class="i1">Down in the gloaming alone;</p>
+<p>And he looked in the face of the man,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And lo! the face was his own.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is my weird,&rdquo; he said,</p>
+  <p class="i1">&ldquo;And now I ken the worst;</p>
+<p>For many shall fall the morn,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But I shall fall with the first.</p>
+<p>O, you of the outland tongue,</p>
+  <p class="i1">You of the painted face,</p>
+<p>This is the place of my death;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Can you tell me the name of the place?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Since the Frenchmen have been here</p>
+  <p class="i1">They have called it Sault-Marie;</p>
+<p>But that is a name for priests,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And not for you and me.</p>
+<p>It went by another word,&rdquo;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Quoth he of the shaven head:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was called Ticonderoga</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the days of the great dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And it fell on the morrow&rsquo;s morning,</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the fiercest of the fight,</p>
+<p>That the Cameron bit the dust</p>
+  <p class="i1">As he foretold at night;</p>
+<p>And far from the hills of heather,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Far from the isles of the sea,</p>
+<p>He sleeps in the place of the name</p>
+  <p class="i1">As it was doomed to be.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page198"></a>198</span></p>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page199"></a>199</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>HEATHER ALE</h3>
+
+<h4>A GALLOWAY LEGEND</h4>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page200"></a>200</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page201"></a>201</span></p>
+<h3>HEATHER ALE</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">From</span> the bonny bells of heather</p>
+  <p class="i1">They brewed a drink long-syne,</p>
+<p>Was sweeter far than honey,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Was stronger far than wine.</p>
+<p>They brewed it and they drank it,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And lay in a blessed swound</p>
+<p>For days and days together</p>
+  <p class="i1">In their dwellings underground.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There rose a king in Scotland,</p>
+  <p class="i1">A fell man to his foes,</p>
+<p>He smote the Picts in battle,</p>
+  <p class="i1">He hunted them like roes.</p>
+<p>Over miles of the red mountain</p>
+  <p class="i1">He hunted as they fled,</p>
+<p>And strewed the dwarfish bodies</p>
+  <p class="i1">Of the dying and the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Summer came in the country,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Red was the heather bell;</p>
+<p>But the manner of the brewing</p>
+  <p class="i1">Was none alive to tell.</p>
+<p>In the graves that were like children&rsquo;s</p>
+  <p class="i1">On many a mountain head,</p>
+<p>The Brewsters of the Heather</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lay numbered with the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The king in the red moorland</p>
+  <p class="i1">Rode on a summer&rsquo;s day;</p>
+<p>And the bees hummed, and the curlews</p>
+  <p class="i1">Cried beside the way.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page202"></a>202</span></p>
+<p>The king rode, and was angry,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Black was his brow and pale,</p>
+<p>To rule in a land of heather</p>
+  <p class="i1">And lack the Heather Ale.</p>
+
+<p class="s">It fortuned that his vassals,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Riding free on the heath,</p>
+<p>Came on a stone that was fallen</p>
+  <p class="i1">And vermin hid beneath.</p>
+<p>Rudely plucked from their hiding,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Never a word they spoke:</p>
+<p>A son and his aged father&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Last of the dwarfish folk.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The king sat high on his charger,</p>
+  <p class="i1">He looked on the little men;</p>
+<p>And the dwarfish and swarthy couple</p>
+  <p class="i1">Looked at the king again.</p>
+<p>Down by the shore he had them;</p>
+  <p class="i1">And there on the giddy brink&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will give you life, ye vermin,</p>
+  <p class="i1">For the secret of the drink.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">There stood the son and father;</p>
+  <p class="i1">And they looked high and low;</p>
+<p>The heather was red around them,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The sea rumbled below.</p>
+<p>And up and spoke the father,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Shrill was his voice to hear:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have a word in private,</p>
+  <p class="i1">A word for the royal ear.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;Life is dear to the aged,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And honour a little thing;</p>
+<p>I would gladly sell the secret,&rdquo;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Quoth the Pict to the king.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page203"></a>203</span></p>
+<p>His voice was small as a sparrow&rsquo;s,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And shrill and wonderful clear;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would gladly sell my secret,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Only my son I fear.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;For life is a little matter,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And death is nought to the young;</p>
+<p>And I dare not sell my honour</p>
+  <p class="i1">Under the eye of my son.</p>
+<p>Take <i>him</i>, O king, and bind him,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And cast him far in the deep:</p>
+<p>And it&rsquo;s I will tell the secret,</p>
+  <p class="i1">That I have sworn to keep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="s">They took the son and bound him,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Neck and heels in a thong,</p>
+<p>And a lad took him and swung him,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And flung him far and strong,</p>
+<p>And the sea swallowed his body,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Like that of a child of ten;&mdash;</p>
+<p>And there on the cliff stood the father,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Last of the dwarfish men.</p>
+
+<p class="s">&ldquo;True was the word I told you:</p>
+  <p class="i1">Only my son I feared;</p>
+<p>For I doubt the sapling courage</p>
+  <p class="i1">That goes without the beard.</p>
+<p>But now in vain is the torture,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Fire shall never avail;</p>
+<p>Here dies in my bosom</p>
+  <p class="i1">The secret of Heather Ale.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page204"></a>204</span></p>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page205"></a>205</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>CHRISTMAS AT SEA</h3>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page206"></a>206</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page207"></a>207</span></p>
+<h3>CHRISTMAS AT SEA</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;</p>
+<p>The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;</p>
+<p>The wind was a nor&rsquo;-wester, blowing squally off the sea;</p>
+<p>And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.</p>
+
+<p class="s">They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;</p>
+<p>But &rsquo;twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.</p>
+<p>We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,</p>
+<p>And we gave her the maintops&rsquo;l, and stood by to go about.</p>
+
+<p class="s">All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;</p>
+<p>All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;</p>
+<p>All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,</p>
+<p>For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.</p>
+
+<p class="s">We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared;</p>
+<p>But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:</p>
+<p>So&rsquo;s we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,</p>
+<p>And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page208"></a>208</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;</p>
+<p>The good red fires were burning bright in every &rsquo;long-shore home;</p>
+<p>The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;</p>
+<p>And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;</p>
+<p>For it&rsquo;s just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)</p>
+<p>This day of our adversity was bless�d Christmas morn,</p>
+<p>And the house above the coastguard&rsquo;s was the house where I was born.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,</p>
+<p>My mother&rsquo;s silver spectacles, my father&rsquo;s silver hair;</p>
+<p>And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,</p>
+<p>Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,</p>
+<p>Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;</p>
+<p>And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,</p>
+<p>To be here and hauling frozen ropes on bless�d Christmas Day.</p>
+
+<p class="s">They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All hands to loose topgallant sails,&rdquo; I heard the captain call.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By the Lord, she&rsquo;ll never stand it,&rdquo; our first mate, Jackson, cried.</p>
+<p>... &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson,&rdquo; he replied.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page209"></a>209</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,</p>
+<p>And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood,</p>
+<p>As the winter&rsquo;s day was ending, in the entry of the night,</p>
+<p>We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,</p>
+<p>As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;</p>
+<p>But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,</p>
+<p>Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page210"></a>210</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page211"></a>211</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAH�RO</h3>
+
+<div class="quote">
+<p><span class="sc">Introduction</span>.&mdash;This tale, of which I have not consciously changed
+a single feature, I received from tradition. It is highly popular
+through all the country of the eight Tevas, the clan to which Rah�ro
+belonged; and particularly in Tai�rapu, the windward peninsula
+of Tahiti, where he lived. I have heard from end to end two
+versions; and as many as five different persons have helped me
+with details. There seems no reason why the tale should not be
+true.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1c" href="#FnAnchor_1c">Note 1</a>, page 140. &ldquo;<i>The aito</i>,&rdquo; <i>quasi</i> champion, or brave. One
+skilled in the use of some weapon, who wandered the country
+challenging distinguished rivals and taking part in local quarrels.
+It was in the natural course of his advancement to be at last employed
+by a chief, or king; and it would then be a part of his duties
+to purvey the victim for sacrifice. One of the doomed families
+was indicated; the aito took his weapon and went forth alone;
+a little behind him bearers followed with the sacrificial basket.
+Sometimes the victim showed fight, sometimes prevailed; more
+often, without doubt, he fell. But whatever body was found, the
+bearers indifferently took up.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_2c" href="#FnAnchor_2c">Note 2</a>, page 141. &ldquo;<i>Pai</i>,&rdquo; &ldquo;<i>Honoura</i>,&rdquo; and &ldquo;<i>Ahupu</i>.&rdquo; Legendary
+persons of Tahiti, all natives of Tai�rapu. Of the first two I
+have collected singular although imperfect legends, which I hope
+soon to lay before the public in another place. Of Ahupu, except
+in snatches of song, little memory appears to linger. She dwelt at
+least about Tepari,&mdash;&ldquo;the sea-cliffs,&rdquo;&mdash;the eastern fastness of the
+isle; walked by paths known only to herself upon the mountains;
+was courted by dangerous suitors who came swimming from adjacent
+islands, and defended and rescued (as I gather) by the loyalty
+of native fish. My anxiety to learn more of &ldquo;Ahupu Vehine&rdquo;
+became (during my stay in Tai�rapu) a cause of some diversion
+to that mirthful people, the inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3c" href="#FnAnchor_3c">Note 3</a>, page 142. &ldquo;<i>Covered an oven.</i>&rdquo; The cooking fire is made
+in a hole in the ground, and is then buried.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_4c" href="#FnAnchor_4c">Note 4</a>, page 143. &ldquo;<i>Flies.</i>&rdquo; This is perhaps an anachronism.
+Even speaking of to-day in Tahiti, the phrase would have to be
+understood as referring mainly to mosquitoes, and these only in
+watered valleys with close woods, such as I suppose to form the
+surroundings of Rah�ro&rsquo;s homestead. A quarter of a mile away,
+where the air moves freely, you shall look in vain for one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page212"></a>212</span></p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5c" href="#FnAnchor_5c">Note 5</a>, page 144. &ldquo;<i>Hook</i>&rdquo; of mother-of-pearl. Bright-hook fishing,
+and that with the spear, appear to be the favourite native methods.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_6c" href="#FnAnchor_6c">Note 6</a>, page 145. &ldquo;<i>Leaves</i>,&rdquo; the plates of Tahiti.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_7c" href="#FnAnchor_7c">Note 7</a>, page 146. &ldquo;<i>Yottowas</i>,&rdquo; so spelt for convenience of
+pronunciation, <i>quasi</i> Tacksmen in the Scottish Highlands. The
+organisation of eight sub-districts and eight yottowas to a division,
+which was in use (until yesterday) among the Tevas, I have
+attributed without authority to the next clan (see page 155).</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_8c" href="#FnAnchor_8c">Note 8</a>, page 146. &ldquo;<i>Omare</i>,&rdquo; pronounce as a dactyl. A loaded
+quarterstaff, one of the two favourite weapons of the Tahitian
+brave; the javelin, or casting spear, was the other.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_9c" href="#FnAnchor_9c">Note 9</a>, page 148. &ldquo;<i>The ribbon of light.</i>&rdquo; Still to be seen (and
+heard) spinning from one marae to another on Tahiti; or so I have
+it upon evidence that would rejoice the Psychical Society.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_10c" href="#FnAnchor_10c">Note 10</a>, page 149. &ldquo;<i>N�munu-�ra.</i>&rdquo; The complete name is
+N�munu-�ra te aropa. Why it should be pronounced N�munu,
+dactylically, I cannot see, but so I have always heard it. This
+was the clan immediately beyond the Tevas on the south coast
+of the island. At the date of the tale the clan organisation must
+have been very weak. There is no particular mention of T�mat�a&rsquo;s
+mother going to Papara, to the head chief of her own clan, which
+would appear her natural recourse. On the other hand, she seems
+to have visited various lesser chiefs among the Tevas, and these
+to have excused themselves solely on the danger of the enterprise.
+The broad distinction here drawn between Nateva and N�munu-�ra
+is therefore not impossibly anachronistic.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_11c" href="#FnAnchor_11c">Note 11</a>, page 149. &ldquo;<i>Hiopa the king.</i>&rdquo; Hiopa was really the
+name of the king (chief) of Vaiau; but I could never learn that
+of the king of Paea&mdash;pronounce to rhyme with the Indian <i>ayah</i>&mdash;and
+I gave the name where it was most needed. This note must
+appear otiose indeed to readers who have never heard of either
+of these two gentlemen; and perhaps there is only one person in
+the world capable at once of reading my verses and spying the
+inaccuracy. For him, for Mr. Tati Salmon, hereditary high chief
+of the Tevas, the note is solely written: a small attention from a
+clansman to his chief.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_12c" href="#FnAnchor_12c">Note 12</a>, page 150. &ldquo;<i>Let the pigs be tapu.</i>&rdquo; It is impossible to
+explain <i>tapu</i> in a note; we have it as an English word, taboo. Suffice
+it, that a thing which was <i>tapu</i> must not be touched, nor a place
+that was <i>tapu</i> visited.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_13c" href="#FnAnchor_13c">Note 13</a>, page 155. &ldquo;<i>Fish, the food of desire.</i>&rdquo; There is a special
+word in the Tahitian language to signify <i>hungering after fish</i>. I may
+remark that here is one of my chief difficulties about the whole
+story. How did king, commons, women, and all come to eat
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213"></a>213</span>
+together at this feast? But it troubled none of my numerous
+authorities; so there must certainly be some natural explanation.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_14c" href="#FnAnchor_14c">Note 14</a>, page 160. &ldquo;<i>The mustering word of the clan.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><i>Teva te ua,</i></p>
+<p><i>Teva te matai!</i></p>
+
+<p class="s">Teva the wind,</p>
+<p>Teva the rain!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>Notes <a name="Footnote_15c" href="#FnAnchor_15c">15</a> and <a name="Footnote_16c" href="#FnAnchor_16c">16</a>, page 165. &ldquo;<i>The star of the dead.</i>&rdquo; Venus as
+a morning star. I have collected much curious evidence as to
+this belief. The dead retain their taste for a fish diet, enter into
+copartnery with living fishers, and haunt the reef and the lagoon.
+The conclusion attributed to the nameless lady of the legend would
+be reached to-day, under the like circumstances, by ninety per cent.
+of Polynesians: and here I probably under-state by one-tenth.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE</h3>
+
+<div class="quote">
+<p>In this ballad I have strung together some of the more striking
+particularities of the Marquesas. It rests upon no authority;
+it is in no sense, like &ldquo;Rah�ro,&rdquo; a native story; but a patchwork
+of details of manners and the impressions of a traveller. It may
+seem strange, when the scene is laid upon these profligate islands,
+to make the story hinge on love. But love is not less known in the
+Marquesas than elsewhere; nor is there any cause of suicide more
+common in the islands.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1d" href="#FnAnchor_1d">Note 1</a>, page 169. &ldquo;<i>Pit of popoi.</i>&rdquo; Where the bread-fruit was
+stored for preservation.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_2d" href="#FnAnchor_2d">Note 2</a>, page 169. &ldquo;<i>Ruby-red.</i>&rdquo; The priest&rsquo;s eyes were probably
+red from the abuse of kava. His beard (<i>ib.</i>) is said to be worth an
+estate; for the beards of old men are the favourite head-adornment
+of the Marquesans, as the hair of women formed their most costly
+girdle. The former, among this generally beardless and short-lived
+people, fetch to-day considerable sums.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3d" href="#FnAnchor_3d">Note 3</a>, page 169. &ldquo;<i>Tikis.</i>&rdquo; The tiki is an ugly image hewn out
+of wood or stone.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_4d" href="#FnAnchor_4d">Note 4</a>, page 172. &ldquo;<i>The one-stringed harp.</i>&rdquo; Usually employed
+for serenades.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5d" href="#FnAnchor_5d">Note 5</a>, page 173. &ldquo;<i>The sacred cabin of palm.</i>&rdquo; Which, however,
+no woman could approach. I do not know where women were
+tattooed; probably in the common house, or in the bush, for a
+woman was a creature of small account. I must guard the reader
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214"></a>214</span>
+against supposing Taheia was at all disfigured; the art of the
+Marquesan tattooer is extreme; and she would appear to be clothed
+in a web of lace, inimitably delicate, exquisite in pattern, and of a
+bluish hue that at once contrasts and harmonises with the warm
+pigment of the native skin. It would be hard to find a woman
+more becomingly adorned than &ldquo;a well-tattooed&rdquo; Marquesan.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_6d" href="#FnAnchor_6d">Note 6</a>, page 175. &ldquo;<i>The horror of night.</i>&rdquo; The Polynesian fear
+of ghosts and of the dark has been already referred to. Their life
+is beleaguered by the dead.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_7d" href="#FnAnchor_7d">Note 7</a>, page 176. &ldquo;<i>The quiet passage of souls.</i>&rdquo; So, I am told,
+the natives explain the sound of a little wind passing overhead unfelt.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_8d" href="#FnAnchor_8d">Note 8</a>, page 178. &ldquo;<i>The first of the victims fell.</i>&rdquo; Without
+doubt, this whole scene is untrue to fact. The victims were disposed
+of privately and some time before. And indeed I am far from
+claiming the credit of any high degree of accuracy for this ballad.
+Even in the time of famine, it is probable that Marquesan life went
+far more gaily than is here represented. But the melancholy of
+to-day lies on the writer&rsquo;s mind.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>NOTES TO TICONDEROGA</h3>
+
+<div class="quote">
+<p><span class="sc">Introduction.</span>&mdash;I first heard this legend of my own country from
+that friend of men of letters, Mr. Alfred Nutt, &ldquo;there in roaring
+London&rsquo;s central stream,&rdquo; and since the ballad first saw the
+light of day in <i>Scribner&rsquo;s Magazine</i>, Mr. Nutt and Lord Archibald
+Campbell have been in public controversy on the facts. Two clans,
+the Camerons and the Campbells, lay claim to this bracing story;
+and they do well: the man who preferred his plighted troth to the
+commands and menaces of the dead is an ancestor worth disputing.
+But the Campbells must rest content: they have the broad lands
+and the broad page of history; this appanage must be denied them;
+for between the name of <i>Cameron</i> and that of <i>Campbell</i> the muse
+will never hesitate.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1e" href="#FnAnchor_1e">Note 1</a>, page 191. Mr. Nutt reminds me it was &ldquo;by my sword
+and Ben Cruachan&rdquo; the Cameron swore.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_2e" href="#FnAnchor_2e">Note 2</a>, page 194. &ldquo;<i>A periwig&rsquo;d lord of London.</i>&rdquo; The first Pitt.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3e" href="#FnAnchor_3e">Note 3</a>, page 195. &ldquo;<i>Cathay.</i>&rdquo; There must be some omission in
+General Stewart&rsquo;s charming &ldquo;History of the Highland Regiments,&rdquo;
+a book that might well be republished and continued; or it scarce
+appears how our friend could have got to China.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page215"></a>215</span></p>
+<hr class="art" />
+<h3>NOTE TO HEATHER ALE</h3>
+
+<div class="quote">
+<p>Among the curiosities of human nature this legend claims a high
+place. It is needless to remind the reader that the Picts were never
+exterminated, and form to this day a large proportion of the folk
+of Scotland, occupying the eastern and the central parts, from the
+Firth of Forth, or perhaps the Lammermoors, upon the south,
+to the Ord of Caithness on the north. That the blundering guess
+of a dull chronicler should have inspired men with imaginary
+loathing for their own ancestors is already strange; that it should
+have begotten this wild legend seems incredible. Is it possible the
+chronicler&rsquo;s error was merely nominal? that what he told, and what
+the people proved themselves so ready to receive, about the Picts,
+was true or partly true of some anterior and perhaps Lappish
+savages, small of stature, black of hue, dwelling underground&mdash;possibly
+also the distillers of some forgotten spirit? See Mr.
+Campbell&rsquo;s &ldquo;Tales of the West Highlands.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page216"></a>216</span></p>
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page217"></a>217</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>SONGS OF TRAVEL</h2>
+<h3>AND OTHER VERSES</h3>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page218"></a>218</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page219"></a>219</span></p>
+<h2>SONGS OF TRAVEL</h2>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<h3>THE VAGABOND</h3>
+
+<h6>(TO AN AIR OF SCHUBERT)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Give</span> to me the life I love,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Let the lave go by me,</p>
+<p>Give the jolly heaven above</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the byway nigh me.</p>
+<p>Bed in the bush with stars to see,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Bread I dip in the river&mdash;</p>
+<p>There&rsquo;s the life for a man like me,</p>
+  <p class="i1">There&rsquo;s the life for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Let the blow fall soon or late,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Let what will be o&rsquo;er me;</p>
+<p>Give the face of earth around</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the road before me.</p>
+<p>Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor a friend to know me;</p>
+<p>All I seek, the heaven above</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the road below me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Or let autumn fall on me</p>
+  <p class="i1">Where afield I linger,</p>
+<p>Silencing the bird on tree,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Biting the blue finger.</p>
+<p>White as meal the frosty field&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Warm the fireside haven&mdash;</p>
+<p>Not to autumn will I yield,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Not to winter even!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page220"></a>220</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Let the blow fall soon or late,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Let what will be o&rsquo;er me;</p>
+<p>Give the face of earth around,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the road before me.</p>
+<p>Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor a friend to know me.</p>
+<p>All I ask, the heaven above</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the road below me.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>YOUTH AND LOVE&mdash;I</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Once</span> only by the garden gate</p>
+  <p class="i1">Our lips were joined and parted.</p>
+<p>I must fulfil an empty fate</p>
+  <p class="i1">And travel the uncharted.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Hail and farewell! I must arise,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Leave here the fatted cattle,</p>
+<p>And paint on foreign lands and skies</p>
+  <p class="i1">My Odyssey of battle.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The untented Kosmos my abode,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I pass, a wilful stranger:</p>
+<p>My mistress still the open road</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the bright eyes of danger.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Come ill or well, the cross, the crown,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The rainbow or the thunder,</p>
+<p>I fling my soul and body down</p>
+  <p class="i1">For God to plough them under.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page221"></a>221</span></p>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>YOUTH AND LOVE&mdash;II</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">To</span> the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.</p>
+<p>Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,</p>
+<p>Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,</p>
+<p>Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land</p>
+<p>Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down,</p>
+<p>Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate</p>
+<p>Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on,</p>
+<p>Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,</p>
+<p>Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand</p>
+        <p class="i4">As heretofore:</p>
+<p>The unremembered tokens in your hand</p>
+        <p class="i4">Avail no more.</p>
+
+<p class="s">No more the morning glow, no more the grace,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Enshrines, endears.</p>
+<p>Cold beats the light of time upon your face</p>
+        <p class="i4">And shows your tears.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He came and went. Perchance you wept a while</p>
+        <p class="i4">And then forgot.</p>
+<p>Ah, me! but he that left you with a smile</p>
+        <p class="i4">Forgets you not.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page222"></a>222</span></p>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">She</span> rested by the Broken Brook,</p>
+  <p class="i1">She drank of Weary Well,</p>
+<p>She moved beyond my lingering look,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Ah, whither none can tell!</p>
+
+<p class="s">She came, she went. In other lands,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Perchance in fairer skies,</p>
+<p>Her hands shall cling with other hands,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Her eyes to other eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="s">She vanished. In the sounding town,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Will she remember too?</p>
+<p>Will she recall the eyes of brown</p>
+  <p class="i1">As I recall the blue?</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> infinite shining heavens</p>
+  <p class="i1">Rose and I saw in the night</p>
+<p>Uncountable angel stars</p>
+  <p class="i1">Showering sorrow and light.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I saw them distant as heaven,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Dumb and shining and dead,</p>
+<p>And the idle stars of the night</p>
+  <p class="i1">Were dearer to me than bread.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Night after night in my sorrow</p>
+  <p class="i1">The stars stood over the sea,</p>
+<p>Till lo! I looked in the dusk</p>
+  <p class="i1">And a star had come down to me.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page223"></a>223</span></p>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Plain</span> as the glistering planets shine</p>
+  <p class="i1">When winds have cleaned the skies,</p>
+<p>Her love appeared, appealed for mine</p>
+  <p class="i1">And wantoned in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Clear as the shining tapers burned</p>
+  <p class="i1">On Cytherea&rsquo;s shrine,</p>
+<p>Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And called and conquered mine.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The beacon-lamp that Hero lit</p>
+  <p class="i1">No fairer shone on sea,</p>
+<p>No plainlier summoned will and wit,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Than hers encouraged me.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I thrilled to feel her influence near,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I struck my flag at sight.</p>
+<p>Her starry silence smote my ear</p>
+  <p class="i1">Like sudden drums at night.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I ran as, at the cannon&rsquo;s roar,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The troops the ramparts man&mdash;</p>
+<p>As in the holy house of yore</p>
+  <p class="i1">The willing Eli ran.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here, lady, lo! that servant stands</p>
+  <p class="i1">You picked from passing men,</p>
+<p>And should you need nor heart nor hands</p>
+  <p class="i1">He bows and goes again.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page224"></a>224</span></p>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">To</span> you, let snow and roses</p>
+  <p class="i1">And golden locks belong.</p>
+<p>These are the world&rsquo;s enslavers,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Let these delight the throng.</p>
+<p>For her of duskier lustre</p>
+  <p class="i1">Whose favour still I wear,</p>
+<p>The snow be in her kirtle,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The rose be in her hair!</p>
+
+<p class="s">The hue of highland rivers</p>
+  <p class="i1">Careering, full and cool,</p>
+<p>From sable on to golden,</p>
+  <p class="i1">From rapid on to pool&mdash;</p>
+<p>The hue of heather-honey,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The hue of honey-bees,</p>
+<p>Shall tinge her golden shoulder,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Shall gild her tawny knees.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IX</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Let</span> Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Beauty awake from rest!</p>
+        <p class="i5">Let Beauty awake</p>
+        <p class="i5">For Beauty&rsquo;s sake</p>
+<p>In the hour when the birds awake in the brake</p>
+        <p class="i5">And the stars are bright in the west!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Awake in the crimson eve!</p>
+        <p class="i5">In the day&rsquo;s dusk end</p>
+        <p class="i5">When the shades ascend,</p>
+<p>Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend</p>
+        <p class="i5">To render again and receive!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page225"></a>225</span></p>
+<h5>X</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I know</span> not how it is with you&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">I love the first and last,</p>
+<p>The whole field of the present view,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The whole flow of the past.</p>
+
+<p class="s">One tittle of the things that are,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor you should change nor I&mdash;</p>
+<p>One pebble in our path&mdash;one star</p>
+  <p class="i1">In all our heaven of sky.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Our lives, and every day and hour,</p>
+  <p class="i1">One symphony appear:</p>
+<p>One road, one garden&mdash;every flower</p>
+  <p class="i1">And every bramble dear.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XI</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I will</span> make you brooches and toys for your delight</p>
+<p>Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.</p>
+<p>I will make a palace fit for you and me</p>
+<p>Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,</p>
+<p>Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,</p>
+<p>And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white</p>
+<p>In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And this shall be for music when no one else is near,</p>
+<p>The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!</p>
+<p>That only I remember, that only you admire,</p>
+<p>Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page226"></a>226</span></p>
+<h5>XII</h5>
+
+<h3>WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE</h3>
+
+<h6>(TO AN AIR OF DIABELLI)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Berried</span> brake and reedy island,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Heaven below, and only heaven above,</p>
+<p>Through the sky&rsquo;s inverted azure</p>
+  <p class="i1">Softly swam the boat that bore our love.</p>
+        <p class="i5">Bright were your eyes as the day;</p>
+        <p class="i5">Bright ran the stream,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Bright hung the sky above.</p>
+<p>Days of April, airs of Eden,</p>
+  <p class="i1">How the glory died through golden hours,</p>
+<p>And the shining moon arising,</p>
+  <p class="i1">How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers!</p>
+        <p class="i5">Bright were your eyes in the night:</p>
+        <p class="i5">We have lived, my love&mdash;</p>
+        <p class="i5">O, we have loved, my love.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Frost has bound our flowing river,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Snow has whitened all our island brake,</p>
+<p>And beside the winter fagot</p>
+  <p class="i1">Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake.</p>
+        <p class="i5">Still, in the river of dreams,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Swims the boat of love&mdash;</p>
+        <p class="i5">Hark! chimes the falling oar!</p>
+<p>And again in winter evens</p>
+  <p class="i1">When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds,</p>
+<p>In those ears of ag�d lovers</p>
+  <p class="i1">Love&rsquo;s own river warbles in the reeds.</p>
+        <p class="i5">Love still the past, O my love!</p>
+        <p class="i5">We have lived of yore,</p>
+        <p class="i5">O, we have loved of yore.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page227"></a>227</span></p>
+<h5>XIII</h5>
+
+<h3>MATER TRIUMPHANS</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Son</span> of my woman&rsquo;s body, you go, to the drum and fife,</p>
+<p>To taste the colour of love and the other side of life&mdash;</p>
+<p>From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the frail,</p>
+<p>Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like nail on each,</p>
+<p>The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech;</p>
+<p>Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the sword!</p>
+<p>Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed priest,</p>
+<p>Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast.</p>
+<p>You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings,</p>
+<p>You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of kings.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIV</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Bright</span> is the ring of words</p>
+  <p class="i1">When the right man rings them,</p>
+<p>Fair the fall of songs</p>
+  <p class="i1">When the singer sings them.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page228"></a>228</span></p>
+<p>Still they are carolled and said&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">On wings they are carried&mdash;</p>
+<p>After the singer is dead</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the maker buried.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Low as the singer lies</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the field of heather,</p>
+<p>Songs of his fashion bring</p>
+  <p class="i1">The swains together.</p>
+<p>And when the west is red</p>
+  <p class="i1">With the sunset embers,</p>
+<p>The lover lingers and sings</p>
+  <p class="i1">And the maid remembers.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XV</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> the highlands, in the country places,</p>
+<p>Where the old plain men have rosy faces,</p>
+<p>And the young fair maidens</p>
+<p>Quiet eyes;</p>
+<p>Where essential silence cheers and blesses,</p>
+<p>And for ever in the hill-recesses</p>
+<p><i>Her</i> more lovely music</p>
+<p>Broods and dies.</p>
+
+<p class="s">O to mount again where erst I haunted;</p>
+<p>Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,</p>
+<p>And the low green meadows</p>
+<p>Bright with sward;</p>
+<p>And when even dies, the million-tinted,</p>
+<p>And the night has come, and planets glinted,</p>
+<p>Lo, the valley hollow</p>
+<p>Lamp-bestarred!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page229"></a>229</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">O to dream, O to awake and wander</p>
+<p>There, and with delight to take and render,</p>
+<p>Through the trance of silence,</p>
+<p>Quiet breath;</p>
+<p>Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,</p>
+<p>Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;</p>
+<p>Only winds and rivers,</p>
+<p>Life and death.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVI</h5>
+
+<h6>(TO THE TUNE OF WANDERING WILLIE)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Home</span> no more home to me, whither must I wander?</p>
+  <p class="i1">Hunger my driver, I go where I must.</p>
+<p>Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust.</p>
+<p>Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The true word of welcome was spoken in the door&mdash;</p>
+<p>Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Kind folks of old, you come again no more.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.</p>
+<p>Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.</p>
+<p>Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold.</p>
+<p>Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor-fowl,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers;</p>
+<p>Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page230"></a>230</span></p>
+<p>Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Fair shine the day on the house with open door;</p>
+<p>Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">But  I go for ever and come again no more.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVII</h5>
+
+<h3>WINTER</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> rigorous hours, when down the iron lane</p>
+<p>The redbreast looks in vain</p>
+<p>For hips and haws,</p>
+<p>Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane</p>
+<p>The silver pencil of the winter draws.</p>
+
+<p class="s">When all the snowy hill</p>
+<p>And the bare woods are still;</p>
+<p>When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs,</p>
+<p>And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire,</p>
+<p>Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs&mdash;</p>
+<p>More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire!</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi1">Saranac Lake.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XVIII</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> stormy evening closes now in vain,</p>
+<p>Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain,</p>
+        <p class="i4">While here in sheltered house</p>
+        <p class="i4">With fire-ypainted walls,</p>
+        <p class="i4">I hear the wind abroad,</p>
+        <p class="i4">I hark the calling squalls&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Blow, blow,&rdquo; I cry, &ldquo;you burst your cheeks in vain!</p>
+<p>Blow, blow,&rdquo; I cry, &ldquo;my love is home again!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page231"></a>231</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight</p>
+<p>Bore still the precious freight of my delight,</p>
+     <p class="i4">That here in sheltered house</p>
+     <p class="i4">With fire-ypainted walls,</p>
+     <p class="i4">Now hears the wind abroad,</p>
+     <p class="i4">Now harks the calling squalls.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Blow, blow,&rdquo; I cry, &ldquo;in vain you rouse the sea,</p>
+<p>My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIX</h5>
+
+<h3>TO DR. HAKE</h3>
+
+<h6>(ON RECEIVING A COPY OF VERSES)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> the belov�d hour that ushers day,</p>
+<p>In the pure dew, under the breaking grey,</p>
+<p>One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake,</p>
+<p>With brief r�veill� summons all the brake:</p>
+<p><i>Chirp</i>, <i>chirp</i>, it goes; nor waits an answer long;</p>
+<p>And that small signal fills the grove with song.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two;</p>
+<p>It scarce was music, but &rsquo;twas all I knew.</p>
+<p>It was not music, for I lacked the art,</p>
+<p>Yet what but frozen music filled my heart?</p>
+<p><i>Chirp</i>, <i>chirp</i>, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain;</p>
+<p>But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain,</p>
+<p>For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale,</p>
+<p>All silent, sat an ancient nightingale.</p>
+<p>My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke;</p>
+<p>And with a tide of song his silence broke.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page232"></a>232</span></p>
+<h5>XX</h5>
+
+<h3>TO &mdash;&mdash;</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I knew</span> thee strong and quiet like the hills;</p>
+<p>I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure,</p>
+<p>In peace or war a Roman full equipt;</p>
+<p>And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings</p>
+<p>Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth,</p>
+<p>From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words.</p>
+<p>What, what, was I to honour thee? A child;</p>
+<p>A youth in ardour but a child in strength,</p>
+<p>Who after virtue&rsquo;s golden chariot-wheels</p>
+<p>Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal.</p>
+<p>So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Since then my steps have visited that flood</p>
+<p>Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease,</p>
+<p>The voices and the tears of life expire.</p>
+<p>Thither the prints go down, the hero&rsquo;s way</p>
+<p>Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid&rsquo;s:</p>
+<p>Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood,</p>
+<p>And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers,</p>
+<p>That here his hunting closes with the great:</p>
+<p>So one and all go down, nor aught returns.</p>
+
+<p class="s">For thee, for us, the sacred river waits,</p>
+<p>For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend;</p>
+<p>There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs</p>
+<p>He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides;</p>
+<p>Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in.</p>
+<p>So when, beside that margin, I discard</p>
+<p>My more than mortal weakness, and with thee</p>
+<p>Through that still land unfearing I advance;</p>
+<p>If then at all we keep the touch of joy,</p>
+<p>Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered&mdash;I,</p>
+<p>O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page233"></a>233</span></p>
+<h5>XXI</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> morning drum-call on my eager ear</p>
+<p>Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew</p>
+<p>Lies yet undried along my field of noon.</p>
+<p>But now I pause at whiles in what I do,</p>
+<p>And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear</p>
+<p>(My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXII</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I have</span> trod the upward and the downward slope;</p>
+<p>I have endured and done in days before;</p>
+<p>I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope;</p>
+<p>And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIII</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">He</span> hears with gladdened heart the thunder</p>
+  <p class="i1">Peal, and loves the falling dew;</p>
+<p>He knows the earth above and under&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Sits and is content to view.</p>
+
+<p class="s">He sits beside the dying ember,</p>
+  <p class="i1">God for hope and man for friend,</p>
+<p>Content to see, glad to remember,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Expectant of the certain end.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIV</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Farewell</span>, fair day and fading light!</p>
+<p>The clay-born here, with westward sight,</p>
+<p>Marks the huge sun now downward soar.</p>
+<p>Farewell. We twain shall meet no more.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page234"></a>234</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh</p>
+<p>My late contemned occasion die.</p>
+<p>I linger useless in my tent:</p>
+<p>Farewell, fair day, so foully spent!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Farewell, fair day. If any God</p>
+<p>At all consider this poor clod,</p>
+<p>He who the fair occasion sent</p>
+<p>Prepared and placed the impediment.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Let Him diviner vengeance take&mdash;</p>
+<p>Give me to sleep, give me to wake</p>
+<p>Girded and shod, and bid me play</p>
+<p>The hero in the coming day!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXV</h5>
+
+<h3>IF THIS WERE FAITH</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">God</span>, if this were enough,</p>
+<p>That I see things bare to the buff</p>
+<p>And up to the buttocks in mire;</p>
+<p>That I ask nor hope nor hire,</p>
+<p>Nut in the husk,</p>
+<p>Nor dawn beyond the dusk,</p>
+<p>Nor life beyond death:</p>
+<p>God, if this were faith?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Having felt Thy wind in my face</p>
+<p>Spit sorrow and disgrace,</p>
+<p>Having seen Thine evil doom</p>
+<p>In Golgotha and Khartoum,</p>
+<p>And the brutes, the work of Thine hands,</p>
+<p>Fill with injustice lands</p>
+<p>And stain with blood the sea:</p>
+<p>If still in my veins the glee</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page235"></a>235</span></p>
+<p>Of the black night and the sun</p>
+<p>And the lost battle, run:</p>
+<p>If, an adept,</p>
+<p>The iniquitous lists I still accept</p>
+<p>With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,</p>
+<p>And still to battle and perish for a dream of good:</p>
+<p>God, if that were enough?</p>
+
+<p class="s">If to feel in the ink of the slough,</p>
+<p>And the sink of the mire,</p>
+<p>Veins of glory and fire</p>
+<p>Run through and transpierce and transpire,</p>
+<p>And a secret purpose of glory in every part,</p>
+<p>And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;</p>
+<p>To thrill with the joy of girded men,</p>
+<p>To go on for ever and fail and go on again,</p>
+<p>And be mauled to the earth and arise,</p>
+<p>And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the eyes:</p>
+<p>With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night</p>
+<p>That somehow the right is the right</p>
+<p>And the smooth shall bloom from the rough:</p>
+<p>Lord, if that were enough?</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVI</h5>
+
+<h3>MY WIFE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Trusty</span>, dusky, vivid, true,</p>
+<p>With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,</p>
+<p>Steel-true and blade-straight,</p>
+<p>The great artificer</p>
+<p>Made my mate.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page236"></a>236</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Honour, anger, valour, fire;</p>
+<p>A love that life could never tire,</p>
+<p>Death quench or evil stir,</p>
+<p>The mighty master</p>
+<p>Gave to her.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Teacher, tender, comrade, wife,</p>
+<p>A fellow-farer true through life,</p>
+<p>Heart-whole and soul-free</p>
+<p>The august father</p>
+<p>Gave to me.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO THE MUSE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Resign</span> the rhapsody, the dream,</p>
+  <p class="i1">To men of larger reach;</p>
+<p>Be ours the quest of a plain theme,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The piety of speech.</p>
+
+<p class="s">As monkish scribes from morning break</p>
+  <p class="i1">Toiled till the close of light,</p>
+<p>Nor thought a day too long to make</p>
+  <p class="i1">One line or letter bright:</p>
+
+<p class="s">We also with an ardent mind,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Time, wealth, and fame forgot,</p>
+<p>Our glory in our patience find</p>
+  <p class="i1">And skim, and skim the pot:</p>
+
+<p class="s">Till last, when round the house we hear</p>
+  <p class="i1">The evensong of birds,</p>
+<p>One corner of blue heaven appear</p>
+  <p class="i1">In our clear well of words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page237"></a>237</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart!</p>
+ <p class="i1">Sans finish and sans frame,</p>
+<p>Leave unadorned by needless art</p>
+ <p class="i1">The picture as it came.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXVIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Since</span> long ago, a child at home,</p>
+<p>I read and longed to rise and roam,</p>
+<p>Where&rsquo;er I went, whate&rsquo;er I willed,</p>
+<p>One promised land my fancy filled.</p>
+<p>Hence the long roads my home I made;</p>
+<p>Tossed much in ships; have often laid</p>
+<p>Below the uncurtained sky my head,</p>
+<p>Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted:</p>
+<p>And many a thousand hills I crossed</p>
+<p>And corners turned&mdash;Love&rsquo;s labour lost,</p>
+<p>Till, Lady, to your isle of sun</p>
+<p>I came not hoping; and, like one</p>
+<p>Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes,</p>
+<p>And hailed my promised land with cries.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Yes, Lady, here I was at last;</p>
+<p>Here found I all I had forecast:</p>
+<p>The long roll of the sapphire sea</p>
+<p>That keeps the land&rsquo;s virginity;</p>
+<p>The stalwart giants of the wood</p>
+<p>Laden with toys and flowers and food;</p>
+<p>The precious forest pouring out</p>
+<p>To compass the whole town about;</p>
+<p>The town itself with streets of lawn,</p>
+<p>Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn,</p>
+<p>Where the brown children all the day,</p>
+<p>Keep up a ceaseless noise of play,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page238"></a>238</span></p>
+<p>Play in the sun, play in the rain,</p>
+<p>Nor ever quarrel or complain;&mdash;</p>
+<p>And late at night, in the woods of fruit,</p>
+<p>Hark I do you hear the passing flute?</p>
+
+<p class="s">I threw one look to either hand,</p>
+<p>And knew I was in Fairyland.</p>
+<p>And yet one point of being so</p>
+<p>I lacked. For, Lady (as you know),</p>
+<p>Whoever by his might of hand</p>
+<p>Won entrance into Fairyland,</p>
+<p>Found always with admiring eyes</p>
+<p>A Fairy princess kind and wise.</p>
+<p>It was not long I waited; soon</p>
+<p>Upon my threshold, in broad noon,</p>
+<p>Gracious and helpful, wise and good,</p>
+<p>The Fairy Princess Mo� stood.<a name="FnAnchor_1f" href="#Footnote_1f"><span class="sp">1</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="s mi2 f80"><span class="sc">Tantira, Tahiti</span>, <i>Nov. 5, 1888</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr class="foot" />
+<div class="note">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1f" href="#FnAnchor_1f"><span class="fn">1</span></a> This is the same Princess Mo� whose charms of person and
+disposition have been recorded by the late Lord Pembroke in &ldquo;South
+Sea Bubbles,&rdquo; and by M. Pierre Loti in the &ldquo;Mariage de Loti.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXIX</h5>
+
+<h3>TO KALAKAUA</h3>
+
+<h6>(WITH A PRESENT OF A PEARL)</h6>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> Silver Ship, my King&mdash;that was her name</p>
+<p>In the bright islands whence your fathers came<a name="FnAnchor_1g" href="#Footnote_1g"><span class="sp">1</span></a>&mdash;</p>
+<p>The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides,</p>
+<p>Below your palace in your harbour rides:</p>
+<p>And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore,</p>
+<p>Like eager merchants count their treasures o&rsquo;er.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page239"></a>239</span></p>
+<p>One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing,</p>
+<p>Now doubly precious since it pleased a king.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre</p>
+<p>For bards to give to kings what kings admire.</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Tis mine to offer for Apollo&rsquo;s sake;</p>
+<p>And since the gift is fitting, yours to take.</p>
+<p>To golden hands the golden pearl I bring:</p>
+<p>The ocean jewel to the island king.</p>
+
+<p class="s f80 mi2"><span class="sc">Honolulu</span>, <i>Feb. 3, 1889</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr class="foot" />
+<div class="note">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1g" href="#FnAnchor_1g"><span class="fn">1</span></a> The yacht <i>Casco</i> had been so called by the people of Fakarava
+in Tahiti.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXX</h5>
+
+<h3>TO PRINCESS KAIULANI</h3>
+
+<div class="quote">
+<p>[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at
+Waikiki, within easy walk of Kaiulani&rsquo;s banyan! When she
+comes to my land and her father&rsquo;s, and the rain beats upon the
+window (as I fear it will), let her look at this page; it will be like
+a weed gathered and pressed at home; and she will remember
+her own islands, and the shadow of the mighty tree; and she will
+hear the peacocks screaming in the dusk and the wind blowing in the
+palms; and she will think of her father sitting there alone.&mdash;R. L. S.]</p>
+</div>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Forth</span> from her land to mine she goes,</p>
+<p>The island maid, the island rose,</p>
+<p>Light of heart and bright of face:</p>
+<p>The daughter of a double race.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Her islands here, in Southern sun,</p>
+<p>Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone,</p>
+<p>And I, in her dear banyan shade,</p>
+<p>Look vainly for my little maid.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But our Scots islands far away</p>
+<p>Shall glitter with unwonted day,</p>
+<p>And cast for once their tempests by</p>
+<p>To smile in Kaiulani&rsquo;s eye.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Honolulu.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page240"></a>240</span></p>
+<h5>XXXI</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MOTHER MARYANNE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">To</span> see the infinite pity of this place,</p>
+<p>The mangled limb, the devastated face,</p>
+<p>The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod&mdash;</p>
+<p>A fool were tempted to deny his God.</p>
+<p>He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again,</p>
+<p>Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain;</p>
+<p>He marks the sisters on the mournful shores;</p>
+<p>And even a fool is silent and adores.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Guest House, Kalawao, Molokai.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXII</h5>
+
+<h3>IN MEMORIAM E.H.</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I knew</span> a silver head was bright beyond compare,</p>
+<p>I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair.</p>
+<p>Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown,</p>
+<p>Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the crown.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel of age.</p>
+<p>Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage.</p>
+<p>Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest part&mdash;</p>
+<p>At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the heart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the dust,</p>
+<p>And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the just;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page241"></a>241</span></p>
+<p>Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair,</p>
+<p>Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Honolulu.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MY WIFE</h3>
+
+<h6>(A FRAGMENT)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Long</span> must elapse ere you behold again</p>
+<p>Green forest frame the entry of the lane&mdash;</p>
+<p>The wild lane with the bramble and the briar,</p>
+<p>The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire,</p>
+<p>The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts,</p>
+<p>And ramblers&rsquo; donkey drinking from the ruts:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Long ere you trace how deviously it leads,</p>
+<p>Back from man&rsquo;s chimneys and the bleating meads</p>
+<p>To the woodland shadow, to the silvan hush,</p>
+<p>When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush&mdash;</p>
+<p>Back from the sun and bustle of the vale</p>
+<p>To where the great voice of the nightingale</p>
+<p>Fills all the forest like a single room,</p>
+<p>And all the banks smell of the golden broom;</p>
+<p>So wander on until the eve descends,</p>
+<p>And back returning to your firelit friends,</p>
+<p>You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light,</p>
+<p>Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy&rsquo;s kite.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise,</p>
+<p>Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes;</p>
+<p>The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain</p>
+<p>And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again.</p>
+<p>Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard,</p>
+<p>And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page242"></a>242</span></p>
+<p>And senseless clamour of the calm, at night</p>
+<p>Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light,</p>
+<p>In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower</p>
+<p>Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour....</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Schooner</span> <i>Equator</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXIV</h5>
+
+<h3>TO MY OLD FAMILIARS</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Do</span> you remember&mdash;can we e&rsquo;er forget?&mdash;</p>
+<p>How, in the coiled perplexities of youth,</p>
+<p>In our wild climate, in our scowling town,</p>
+<p>We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared?</p>
+<p>The belching winter wind, the missile rain,</p>
+<p>The rare and welcome silence of the snows,</p>
+<p>The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night,</p>
+<p>The grimy spell of the nocturnal town,</p>
+<p>Do you remember?&mdash;Ah, could one forget!</p>
+<p>As when the fevered sick that all night long</p>
+<p>Listed the wind intone, and hear at last</p>
+<p>The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer</p>
+<p>Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,&mdash;</p>
+<p>With sudden ardour, these desire the day:</p>
+<p>So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope;</p>
+<p>So we, exulting, hearkened and desired.</p>
+<p>For lo! as in the palace porch of life</p>
+<p>We huddled with chimeras, from within&mdash;</p>
+<p>How sweet to hear!&mdash;the music swelled and fell,</p>
+<p>And through the breach of the revolving doors</p>
+<p>What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled!</p>
+
+<p class="s">I have since then contended and rejoiced;</p>
+<p>Amid the glories of the house of life</p>
+<p>Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld:</p>
+<p>Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page243"></a>243</span></p>
+<p>Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love</p>
+<p>Fall insignificant on my closing ears,</p>
+<p>What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind</p>
+<p>In our inclement city? what return</p>
+<p>But the image of the emptiness of youth,</p>
+<p>Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice</p>
+<p>Of discontent and rapture and despair?</p>
+<p>So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp,</p>
+<p>The momentary pictures gleam and fade</p>
+<p>And perish, and the night resurges&mdash;these</p>
+<p>Shall I remember, and then all forget.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Apemama.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXV</h5>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> tropics vanish, and meseems that I,</p>
+<p>From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir,</p>
+<p>Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again.</p>
+<p>Far set in fields and woods, the town I see</p>
+<p>Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke,</p>
+<p>Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort</p>
+<p>Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills,</p>
+<p>New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth</p>
+<p>Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles,</p>
+<p>And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns.</p>
+
+<p class="s">There, on the sunny frontage of a hill,</p>
+<p>Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead,</p>
+<p>My dead, the ready and the strong of word.</p>
+<p>Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive;</p>
+<p>The sea bombards their founded towers; the night</p>
+<p>Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers,</p>
+<p>One after one, here in this grated cell,</p>
+<p>Where the rain erases and the rust consumes,</p>
+<p>Fell upon lasting silence. Continents</p>
+<p>And continental oceans intervene;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page244"></a>244</span></p>
+<p>A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle,</p>
+<p>Environs and confines their wandering child</p>
+<p>In vain. The voice of generations dead</p>
+<p>Summons me, sitting distant, to arise,</p>
+<p>My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace,</p>
+<p>And, all mutation over, stretch me down</p>
+<p>In that denoted city of the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Apemama.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVI</h5>
+
+<h3>TO S. C.</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I heard</span> the pulse of the besieging sea</p>
+<p>Throb far away all night. I heard the wind</p>
+<p>Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms.</p>
+<p>I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand,</p>
+<p>And flailing fans and shadows of the palm;</p>
+<p>The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault;</p>
+<p>The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept.</p>
+  <p class="i1">The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives,</p>
+<p>Slept in the precinct of the palisade;</p>
+<p>Where single, in the wind, under the moon,</p>
+<p>Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire,</p>
+<p>Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel.</p>
+  <p class="i1">To other lands and nights my fancy turned&mdash;</p>
+<p>To London first, and chiefly to your house,</p>
+<p>The many-pillared and the well-beloved.</p>
+<p>There yearning fancy lighted; there again</p>
+<p>In the upper room I lay, and heard far off</p>
+<p>The unsleeping city murmur like a shell;</p>
+<p>The muffled tramp of the Museum guard</p>
+<p>Once more went by me; I beheld again</p>
+<p>Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street;</p>
+<p>Again I longed for the returning morn,</p>
+<p>The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds,</p>
+<p>The consentaneous trill of tiny song</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page245"></a>245</span></p>
+<p>That weaves round monumental cornices</p>
+<p>A passing charm of beauty. Most of all,</p>
+<p>For your light foot I wearied, and your knock</p>
+<p>That was the glad r�veill� of my day.</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lo, now, when to your task in the great house</p>
+<p>At morning through the portico you pass,</p>
+<p>One moment glance, where by the pillared wall</p>
+<p>Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke,</p>
+<p>Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument</p>
+<p>Of faiths forgot and races undivined;</p>
+<p>Sit now disconsolate, remembering well</p>
+<p>The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd,</p>
+<p>The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice,</p>
+<p>Incessant, of the breakers on the shore.</p>
+<p>As far as these from their ancestral shrine,</p>
+<p>So far, so foreign, your divided friends</p>
+<p>Wander, estranged in body, not in mind.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Apemama.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA</h3>
+
+<div class="quote">
+<p>[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will
+look in vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both
+set up to be in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our
+separation in verse. Whether or not his Majesty has been true
+to his bargain, the laggard posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform
+me in six months, perhaps not before a year. The following lines
+represent my part of the contract, and it is hoped, by their pictures
+of strange manners, they may entertain a civilised audience. Nothing
+throughout has been invented or exaggerated; the lady herein
+referred to as the author&rsquo;s muse has confined herself to stringing
+into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or heard during two months&rsquo;
+residence upon the island.&mdash;R. L. S.]</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3><i>ENVOI</i></h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><i>Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards;</i></p>
+<p><i>And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine,</i></p>
+<p><i>Our now division duly solemnise.</i></p>
+<p><i>Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one:</i></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page246"></a>246</span></p>
+<p><i>The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate!</i></p>
+<p><i>You to the blinding palace-yard shall call</i></p>
+<p><i>The prefect of the singers, and to him,</i></p>
+<p><i>Listening devout, your valedictory verse</i></p>
+<p><i>Deliver; he, his attribute fulfilled,</i></p>
+<p><i>To the island chorus hand your measures on,</i></p>
+<p><i>Wed now with harmony: so them, at last,</i></p>
+<p><i>Night after night, in the open hall of dance,</i></p>
+<p><i>Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand,</i></p>
+<p><i>Intone and bray and bark. Unfortunate!</i></p>
+<p><i>Paper and print alone shall honour mine.</i></p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h3>THE SONG</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Let</span> now the King his ear arouse</p>
+<p>And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows,</p>
+<p>The while, our bond to implement,</p>
+<p>My muse relates and praises his descent.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>I</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Bride</span> of the shark, her valour first I sing</p>
+<p>Who on the lone seas quickened of a King.</p>
+<p>She, from the shore and puny homes of men,</p>
+<p>Beyond the climber&rsquo;s sea-discerning ken,</p>
+<p>Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear,</p>
+<p>Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near.</p>
+<p>She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale,</p>
+<p>The simple sea was void of isle or sail&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared&mdash;</p>
+<p>When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared.</p>
+<p>But she, secure in the decrees of fate,</p>
+<p>Made strong her bosom and received the mate,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page247"></a>247</span></p>
+<p>And, men declare, from that marine embrace</p>
+<p>Conceived the virtues of a stronger race.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Her</span> stern descendant next I praise,</p>
+<p>Survivor of a thousand frays:&mdash;</p>
+<p>In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng;</p>
+<p>Led and was trusted by the strong;</p>
+<p>And when spears were in the wood,</p>
+<p>Like a tower of vantage stood:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Whom, not till seventy years had sped,</p>
+<p>Unscarred of breast, erect of head,</p>
+<p>Still light of step, still bright of look,</p>
+<p>The hunter, Death, had overtook.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">His</span> sons, the brothers twain, I sing.</p>
+<p>Of whom the elder reigned a King.</p>
+<p>No Childeric he, yet much declined</p>
+<p>From his rude sire&rsquo;s imperious mind,</p>
+<p>Until his day came when he died,</p>
+<p>He lived, he reigned, he versified.</p>
+<p>But chiefly him I celebrate</p>
+<p>That was the pillar of the state,</p>
+<p>Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien,</p>
+<p>The peaceful and the warlike scene;</p>
+<p>And played alike the leader&rsquo;s part</p>
+<p>In lawful and unlawful art.</p>
+<p>His soldiers with emboldened ears</p>
+<p>Heard him laugh among the spears.</p>
+<p>He could deduce from age to age</p>
+<p>The web of island parentage;</p>
+<p>Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance,</p>
+<p>For any festal circumstance:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page248"></a>248</span></p>
+<p>And fitly fashion oar and boat,</p>
+<p>A palace or an armour coat.</p>
+<p>None more availed than he to raise</p>
+<p>The strong, suffumigating blaze,</p>
+<p>Or knot the wizard leaf: none more,</p>
+<p>Upon the untrodden windward shore</p>
+<p>Of the isle, beside the beating main,</p>
+<p>To cure the sickly and constrain,</p>
+<p>With muttered words and waving rods,</p>
+<p>The gibbering and the whistling gods.</p>
+<p>But he, though thus with hand and head</p>
+<p>He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led,</p>
+<p>And thus in virtue and in might</p>
+<p>Towered to contemporary sight&mdash;</p>
+<p>Still in fraternal faith and love,</p>
+<p>Remained below to reach above,</p>
+<p>Gave and obeyed the apt command,</p>
+<p>Pilot and vassal of the land.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">My</span> Tembinok&rsquo; from men like these</p>
+<p>Inherited his palaces,</p>
+<p>His right to rule, his powers of mind,</p>
+<p>His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined.</p>
+<p>Stern bearer of the sword and whip,</p>
+<p>A master passed in mastership,</p>
+<p>He learned, without the spur of need,</p>
+<p>To write, to cipher, and to read;</p>
+<p>From all that touch on his prone shore</p>
+<p>Augments his treasury of lore,</p>
+<p>Eager in age as erst in youth</p>
+<p>To catch an art, to learn a truth,</p>
+<p>To paint on the internal page</p>
+<p>A clearer picture of the age.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page249"></a>249</span></p>
+<p>His age, you say? But ah, not so!</p>
+<p>In his lone isle of long ago,</p>
+<p>A royal Lady of Shalott,</p>
+<p>Sea-sundered, he beholds it not;</p>
+<p>He only hears it far away.</p>
+<p>The stress of equatorial day</p>
+<p>He suffers; he records the while</p>
+<p>The vapid annals of the isle;</p>
+<p>Slaves bring him praise of his renown,</p>
+<p>Or cackle of the palm-tree town;</p>
+<p>The rarer ship and the rare boat</p>
+<p>He marks; and only hears remote,</p>
+<p>Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel,</p>
+<p>The thunder of the turning wheel.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">For</span> the unexpected tears he shed</p>
+<p>At my departing, may his lion head</p>
+<p>Not whiten, his revolving years</p>
+<p>No fresh occasion minister of tears;</p>
+<p>At book or cards, at work or sport,</p>
+<p>Him may the breeze across the palace court</p>
+<p>For ever fan; and swelling near</p>
+<p>For ever the loud song divert his ear.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Schooner</span> <i>Equator</i>, <span class="sc">at Sea</span>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XXXVIII</h5>
+
+
+<h3>THE WOODMAN</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">In</span> all the grove, nor stream nor bird</p>
+<p>Nor aught beside my blows was heard,</p>
+<p>And the woods wore their noonday dress&mdash;</p>
+<p>The glory of their silentness.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page250"></a>250</span></p>
+<p>From the island summit to the seas,</p>
+<p>Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees</p>
+<p>Groped upward in the gaps. The green</p>
+<p>Inarboured talus and ravine</p>
+<p>By fathoms. By the multitude,</p>
+<p>The rugged columns of the wood</p>
+<p>And bunches of the branches stood:</p>
+<p>Thick as a mob, deep as a sea,</p>
+<p>And silent as eternity.</p>
+
+<p class="s">With lowered axe, with backward head,</p>
+<p>Late from this scene my labourer fled,</p>
+<p>And with a ravelled tale to tell,</p>
+<p>Returned. Some denizen of hell,</p>
+<p>Dead man or disinvested god,</p>
+<p>Had close behind him peered and trod,</p>
+<p>And triumphed when he turned to flee.</p>
+<p>How different fell the lines with me!</p>
+<p>Whose eye explored the dim arcade</p>
+<p>Impatient of the uncoming shade&mdash;</p>
+<p>Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold,</p>
+<p>Or mystic lingerer from of old:</p>
+<p>Vainly. The fair and stately things,</p>
+<p>Impassive as departed kings,</p>
+<p>All still in the wood&rsquo;s stillness stood,</p>
+<p>And dumb. The rooted multitude</p>
+<p>Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed,</p>
+<p>Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed</p>
+<p>No other art, no hope, they knew,</p>
+<p>Than clutch the earth and seek the blue.</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Mid vegetable king and priest</p>
+<p>And stripling, I (the only beast)</p>
+<p>Was at the beast&rsquo;s work, killing; hewed</p>
+<p>The stubborn roots across, bestrewed</p>
+<p>The glebe with the dislustred leaves,</p>
+<p>And bade the saplings fall in sheaves;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page251"></a>251</span></p>
+<p>Bursting across the tangled math</p>
+<p>A ruin that I called a path,</p>
+<p>A Golgotha that, later on,</p>
+<p>When rains had watered, and suns shone,</p>
+<p>And seeds enriched the place, should bear</p>
+<p>And be called garden. Here and there,</p>
+<p>I spied and plucked by the green hair</p>
+<p>A foe more resolute to live,</p>
+<p>The toothed and killing sensitive.</p>
+<p>He, semi-conscious, fled the attack;</p>
+<p>He shrank and tucked his branches back;</p>
+<p>And straining by his anchor strand,</p>
+<p>Captured and scratched the rooting hand.</p>
+<p>I saw him crouch, I felt him bite;</p>
+<p>And straight my eyes were touched with sight.</p>
+<p>I saw the wood for what it was;</p>
+<p>The lost and the victorious cause;</p>
+<p>The deadly battle pitched in line,</p>
+<p>Saw silent weapons cross and shine:</p>
+<p>Silent defeat, silent assault,</p>
+<p>A battle and a burial vault.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thick round me in the teeming mud</p>
+<p>Briar and fern strove to the blood.</p>
+<p>The hooked liana in his gin</p>
+<p>Noosed his reluctant neighbours in:</p>
+<p>There the green murderer throve and spread,</p>
+<p>Upon his smothering victims fed,</p>
+<p>And wantoned on his climbing coil.</p>
+<p>Contending roots fought for the soil</p>
+<p>Like frightened demons: with despair</p>
+<p>Competing branches pushed for air.</p>
+<p>Green conquerors from overhead</p>
+<p>Bestrode the bodies of their dead;</p>
+<p>The Caesars of the silvan field,</p>
+<p>Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page252"></a>252</span></p>
+<p>For in the groins of branches, lo!</p>
+<p>The cancers of the orchid grow.</p>
+<p>Silent as in the listed ring</p>
+<p>Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling,</p>
+<p>Dumb as by yellow Hooghly&rsquo;s side</p>
+<p>The suffocating captives died:</p>
+<p>So hushed the woodland warfare goes</p>
+<p>Unceasing; and the silent foes</p>
+<p>Grapple and smother, strain and clasp</p>
+<p>Without a cry, without a gasp.</p>
+<p>Here also sound Thy fans, O God,</p>
+<p>Here too Thy banners move abroad:</p>
+<p>Forest and city, sea and shore,</p>
+<p>And the whole earth, Thy threshing-floor!</p>
+<p>The drums of war, the drums of peace,</p>
+<p>Roll through our cities without cease,</p>
+<p>And all the iron halls of life</p>
+<p>Ring with the unremitting strife.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The common lot we scarce perceive.</p>
+<p>Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve:</p>
+<p>The bugle calls&mdash;we mourn a few!</p>
+<p>What corporal&rsquo;s guard at Waterloo?</p>
+<p>What scanty hundreds more or less</p>
+<p>In the man-devouring Wilderness?</p>
+<p>What handful bled on Delhi ridge?</p>
+<p>&mdash;See, rather, London, on thy bridge</p>
+<p>The pale battalions trample by,</p>
+<p>Resolved to slay, resigned to die.</p>
+<p>Count, rather, all the maimed and dead</p>
+<p>In the unbrotherly war of bread.</p>
+<p>See, rather, under sultrier skies</p>
+<p>What vegetable Londons rise,</p>
+<p>And teem, and suffer without sound.</p>
+<p>Or in your tranquil garden ground,</p>
+<p>Contented, in the falling gloom,</p>
+<p>Saunter and see the roses bloom.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page253"></a>253</span></p>
+<p>That these might live, what thousands died!</p>
+<p>All day the cruel hoe was plied;</p>
+<p>The ambulance barrow rolled all day;</p>
+<p>Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay,</p>
+<p>Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud</p>
+<p>And bathed in vegetable blood;</p>
+<p>And the long massacre now at end,</p>
+<p>See! where the lazy coils ascend,</p>
+<p>See, where the bonfire sputters red</p>
+<p>At even, for the innocent dead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Why prate of peace? when, warriors all,</p>
+<p>We clank in harness into hall,</p>
+<p>And ever bare upon the board</p>
+<p>Lies the necessary sword.</p>
+<p>In the green field or quiet street,</p>
+<p>Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat;</p>
+<p>Labour by day and wake o&rsquo; nights,</p>
+<p>In war with rival appetites.</p>
+<p>The rose on roses feeds; the lark</p>
+<p>On larks. The sedentary clerk</p>
+<p>All morning with a diligent pen</p>
+<p>Murders the babes of other men;</p>
+<p>And like the beasts of wood and park,</p>
+<p>Protects his whelps, defends his den.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Unshamed the narrow aim I hold;</p>
+<p>I feed my sheep, patrol my fold;</p>
+<p>Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks,</p>
+<p>A pious outlaw on the rocks</p>
+<p>Of God and morning; and when time</p>
+<p>Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb</p>
+<p>Where no undubbed civilian dares,</p>
+<p>In my war harness, the loud stairs</p>
+<p>Of honour; and my conqueror</p>
+<p>Hail me a warrior fallen in war.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Vailima.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page254"></a>254</span></p>
+<h5>XXXIX</h5>
+
+<h3>TROPIC RAIN</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">As</span> the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well,</p>
+<p>Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell,</p>
+<p>So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue,</p>
+<p>So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and clung.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sudden the thunder was drowned&mdash;quenched was the levin light&mdash;</p>
+<p>And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night.</p>
+<p>Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen,</p>
+<p>Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men;</p>
+
+<p class="s">And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and feared as you fell.</p>
+<p>You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a bell.</p>
+<p>You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with brooks.</p>
+<p>You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two;</p>
+<p>And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and dew;</p>
+<p>And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air;</p>
+<p>And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page255"></a>255</span></p>
+<p>Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain;</p>
+<p>And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Vailima.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XL</h5>
+
+<h3>AN END OF TRAVEL</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Let</span> now your soul in this substantial world</p>
+<p>Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored;&mdash;</p>
+<p>This spectacle immutably from now</p>
+<p>The picture in your eye; and when time strikes,</p>
+<p>And the green scene goes on the instant blind&mdash;</p>
+<p>The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day</p>
+<p>Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Vailima.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XLI</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">We</span> uncommiserate pass into the night</p>
+<p>From the loud banquet, and departing leave</p>
+<p>A tremor in men&rsquo;s memories, faint and sweet</p>
+<p>And frail as music. Features of our face,</p>
+<p>The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand,</p>
+<p>Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth:</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude</p>
+<p>Applauds the new performer. One, perchance,</p>
+<p>One ultimate survivor lingers on,</p>
+<p>And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls</p>
+<p>The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die,</p>
+<p>He too, returning, through the curtain comes,</p>
+<p>And the new age forgets us and goes on.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page256"></a>256</span></p>
+<h5>XLII</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Sing</span> me a song of a lad that is gone,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Say, could that lad be I?</p>
+<p>Merry of soul he sailed on a day</p>
+  <p class="i1">Over the sea to Skye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Mull was astern, Rum on the port,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Eigg on the starboard bow;</p>
+<p>Glory of youth glowed in his soul:</p>
+  <p class="i1">Where is that glory now?</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Say, could that lad be I?</p>
+<p>Merry of soul he sailed on a day</p>
+  <p class="i1">Over the sea to Skye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Give me again all that was there,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Give me the sun that shone!</p>
+<p>Give me the eyes, give me the soul,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Give me the lad that&rsquo;s gone!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Say, could that lad be I?</p>
+<p>Merry of soul he sailed on a day</p>
+  <p class="i1">Over the sea to Skye.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Billow and breeze, islands and seas,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Mountains of rain and sun,</p>
+<p>All that was good, all that was fair,</p>
+  <p class="i1">All that was me is gone.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page257"></a>257</span></p>
+<h5>XLIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO S.R. CROCKETT</h3>
+
+<h6>(ON RECEIVING A DEDICATION)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Blows</span> the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,</p>
+<p>Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,</p>
+  <p class="i1">My heart remembers how!</p>
+
+<p class="s">Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Standing-stones on the vacant wine-red moor,</p>
+<p>Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished races,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And winds, austere and pure:</p>
+
+<p class="s">Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Hills of home! and to hear again the call;</p>
+<p>Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And hear no more at all.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Vailima.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XLIV</h5>
+
+<h3>EVENSONG</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> embers of the day are red</p>
+<p>Beyond the murky hill.</p>
+<p>The kitchen smokes: the bed</p>
+<p>In the darkling house is spread:</p>
+<p>The great sky darkens overhead,</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page258"></a>258</span></p>
+<p>And the great woods are shrill.</p>
+<p>So far have I been led,</p>
+<p>Lord, by Thy will:</p>
+<p>So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The breeze from the embalm�d land</p>
+<p>Blows sudden toward the shore,</p>
+<p>And claps my cottage door.</p>
+<p>I hear the signal, Lord&mdash;I understand.</p>
+<p>The night at Thy command</p>
+<p>Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Vailima.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page259"></a>259</span></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>ADDITIONAL POEMS</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page260"></a>260</span></p>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page261"></a>261</span></p>
+<h2>ADDITIONAL POEMS</h2>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h3>A FAMILIAR EPISTLE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Blame</span> me not that this epistle</p>
+    <p class="i2">Is the first you have from me;</p>
+        <p class="i5">Idleness hath held me fettered;</p>
+        <p class="i5">But at last the times are bettered,</p>
+<p>And once more I wet my whistle</p>
+    <p class="i2">Here in France beside the sea.</p>
+
+<p class="s">All the green and idle weather,</p>
+    <p class="i2">I have had in sun and shower</p>
+        <p class="i5">Such an easy, warm subsistence,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Such an indolent existence,</p>
+<p>I should find it hard to sever</p>
+    <p class="i2">Day from day and hour from hour.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Many a tract-provided ranter</p>
+    <p class="i2">May upbraid me, dark and sour,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Many a bland Utilitarian,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Or excited Millenarian,</p>
+<p>&mdash;&ldquo;<i>Pereunt et imputantur</i>&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">You must speak to every hour.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But (the very term&rsquo;s deception)</p>
+    <p class="i2">You at least, my Friend, will see</p>
+        <p class="i5">That in sunny grassy meadows,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Trailed across by moving shadows,</p>
+<p>To be actively receptive</p>
+    <p class="i2">Is as much as man can be.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page262"></a>262</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">He that all the winter grapples</p>
+    <p class="i2">Difficulties&mdash;thrust and ward&mdash;</p>
+        <p class="i5">Needs to cheer him thro&rsquo; his duty</p>
+        <p class="i5">Memories of sun and beauty,</p>
+<p>Orchards with the russet apples</p>
+    <p class="i2">Lying scattered on the sward.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Many such I keep in prison,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Keep them here at heart unseen,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Till my muse again rehearses</p>
+        <p class="i5">Long years hence, and in my verses</p>
+<p>You shall meet them re-arisen,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Ever comely, ever green.</p>
+
+<p class="s">You know how they never perish,</p>
+    <p class="i2">How, in time of later art,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Memories consecrate and sweeten</p>
+        <p class="i5">Those defaced and tempest-beaten</p>
+<p>Flowers of former years we cherish</p>
+    <p class="i2">Half a life, against our heart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Most, those love-fruits withered greenly,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Those frail, sickly amourettes,&mdash;</p>
+        <p class="i5">How they brighten with the distance,</p>
+        <p class="i5">Take new strength and new existence,</p>
+<p>Till we see them sitting queenly</p>
+    <p class="i2">Crowned and courted by regrets!</p>
+
+<p class="s">All that loveliest and best is,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Aureole-fashion round their head,</p>
+        <p class="i5">They that looked in life but plainly,</p>
+        <p class="i5">How they stir our spirits vainly</p>
+<p>When they come to us, Alcestis&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Like returning from the dead!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page263"></a>263</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Not the old love but another,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Bright she comes at memory&rsquo;s call,</p>
+    <p class="i5">Our forgotten vows reviving</p>
+    <p class="i5">To a newer, livelier living,</p>
+<p>As the dead child to the mother</p>
+  <p class="i2">Seems the fairest child of all.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Thus our Goethe, sacred master,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Travelling backward thro&rsquo; his youth,</p>
+    <p class="i5">Surely wandered wrong in trying</p>
+    <p class="i5">To renew the old, undying</p>
+<p>Loves that cling in memory faster</p>
+  <p class="i2">Than they ever lived in truth.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Boulogne-sur-Mer</span>, <i>September 1872</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>II</h5>
+
+<h3>RONDELS</h3>
+
+<h5>1</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Far</span> have you come, my lady, from the town,</p>
+<p>And far from all your sorrows, if you please,</p>
+<p>To smell the good sea-winds and hear the seas,</p>
+<p>And in green meadows lay your body down.</p>
+
+<p class="s">To find your pale face grow from pale to brown,</p>
+<p>Your sad eyes growing brighter by degrees;</p>
+<p>Far have you come, my lady, from the town,</p>
+<p>And far from all your sorrows, if you please.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here in this seaboard land of old renown,</p>
+<p>In meadow grass go wading to the knees;</p>
+<p>Bathe your whole soul a while in simple ease;</p>
+<p>There is no sorrow but the sea can drown;</p>
+<p>Far have you come, my lady, from the town.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page264"></a>264</span></p>
+<h5>2</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+  <p class="i1"><i>Nous n&rsquo;irons plus au bois</i></p>
+<p>We&rsquo;ll walk the woods no more,</p>
+<p>But stay beside the fire,</p>
+<p>To weep for old desire</p>
+<p>And things that are no more.</p>
+
+<p class="s i2">The woods are spoiled and hoar,</p>
+<p>The ways are full of mire;</p>
+<p>We&rsquo;ll walk the woods no more,</p>
+<p>But stay beside the fire.</p>
+    <p class="i2">We loved, in days of yore,</p>
+<p>Love, laughter, and the lyre.</p>
+<p>Ah God, but death is dire,</p>
+<p>And death is at the door&mdash;</p>
+<p>We&rsquo;ll walk the woods no more.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Ch�teau Renard</span>, <i>August 1875</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>3</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p>Since I am sworn to live my life</p>
+<p>And not to keep an easy heart,</p>
+<p>Some men may sit and drink apart,</p>
+<p>I bear a banner in the strife.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Some can take quiet thought to wife,</p>
+<p>I am all day at <i>tierce</i> and <i>carte</i>,</p>
+<p>Since I am sworn to live my life</p>
+<p>And not to keep an easy heart.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I follow gaily to the fife,</p>
+<p>Leave Wisdom bowed above a chart,</p>
+<p>And Prudence brawing in the mart,</p>
+<p>And dare Misfortune to the knife,</p>
+<p>Since I am sworn to live my life.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div style="padding-top: 0.5em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page265"></a>265</span></p>
+<h5>4</h5>
+
+<h3>OF HIS PITIABLE TRANSFORMATION</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p>I who was young so long,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Young and alert and gay,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Now that my hair is grey,</p>
+<p>Begin to change my song.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now I know right from wrong,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Now I know <i>pay</i> and <i>pray</i>,</p>
+<p>I who was young so long,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Young and alert and gay.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now I follow the throng,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Walk in the beaten way,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Hear what the elders say,</p>
+<p>And own that I was wrong&mdash;</p>
+<p>I who was young so long.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2">1876.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>III</h5>
+
+<h3>EPISTLE TO CHARLES BAXTER</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Noo</span> lyart leaves blaw ower the green,</p>
+<p>Red are the bonny woods o&rsquo; Dean,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; here we&rsquo;re back in Embro, freen&rsquo;,</p>
+    <p class="i2">To pass the winter.</p>
+<p>Whilk noo, wi&rsquo; frosts afore, draws in,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; snaws ahint her.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I&rsquo;ve seen &rsquo;s hae days to fricht us a&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>The Pentlands poothered weel wi&rsquo; snaw,</p>
+<p>The ways half-smoored wi&rsquo; liquid thaw,</p>
+    <p class="i2">An&rsquo; half-congealin&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>The snell an&rsquo; scowtherin&rsquo; norther blaw</p>
+    <p class="i2">Frae blae Brunteelan&rsquo;.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page266"></a>266</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I&rsquo;ve seen &rsquo;s been unco sweir to sally,</p>
+<p>And at the door-cheeks daff an&rsquo; dally,</p>
+<p>Seen &rsquo;s daidle thus an&rsquo; shilly-shally</p>
+    <p class="i2">For near a minute&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sae cauld the wind blew up the valley,</p>
+    <p class="i2">The deil was in it!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Syne spread the silk an&rsquo; tak the gate,</p>
+<p>In blast an&rsquo; blaudin&rsquo;, rain, deil hae &rsquo;t!</p>
+<p>The hale toon glintin&rsquo;, stane an&rsquo; slate,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Wi&rsquo; cauld an&rsquo; weet,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; to the Court, gin we &rsquo;se be late,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Bicker oor feet.</p>
+
+<p class="s">And at the Court, tae, aft I saw</p>
+<p>Whaur Advocates by twa an&rsquo; twa</p>
+<p>Gang gesterin&rsquo; end to end the ha&rsquo;</p>
+    <p class="i2">In weeg an&rsquo; goon,</p>
+<p>To crack o&rsquo; what ye wull but Law</p>
+    <p class="i2">The hale forenoon.</p>
+
+<p class="s">That muckle ha&rsquo;, maist like a kirk,</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ve kent at braid mid-day sae mirk</p>
+<p>Ye&rsquo;d seen white weegs an&rsquo; faces lurk</p>
+    <p class="i2">Like ghaists frae Hell,</p>
+<p>But whether Christian ghaists or Turk,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Deil ane could tell.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The three fires lunted in the gloom,</p>
+<p>The wind blew like the blast o&rsquo; doom,</p>
+<p>The rain upo&rsquo; the roof abune</p>
+    <p class="i2">Played Peter Dick&mdash;</p>
+<p>Ye wad nae&rsquo;d licht enough i&rsquo; the room</p>
+    <p class="i2">Your teeth to pick!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page267"></a>267</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">But, freend, ye ken how me an&rsquo; you,</p>
+<p>The ling-lang lanely winter through,</p>
+<p>Keep&rsquo;d a guid speerit up, an&rsquo; true</p>
+    <p class="i2">To lore Horatian,</p>
+<p>We aye the ither bottle drew</p>
+    <p class="i2">To inclination.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Sae let us in the comin&rsquo; days</p>
+<p>Stand sicker on our auncient ways&mdash;</p>
+<p>The strauchtest road in a&rsquo; the maze</p>
+    <p class="i2">Since Eve ate apples;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; let the winter weet our cla&rsquo;es&mdash;</p>
+    <p class="i2">We&rsquo;ll weet oor thrapples.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Edinburgh</span>, <i>October 1875</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IV</h5>
+
+<h3>THE SUSQUEHANNAH AND THE</h3>
+<h3>DELAWARE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+    <p class="i2"><span class="sc">Of</span> where or how, I nothing know;</p>
+      <p class="i4">And why, I do not care;</p>
+      <p class="i4">Enough if, even so,</p>
+    <p class="i2">My travelling eyes, my travelling mind can go</p>
+<p>By flood and field and hill, by wood and meadow fair,</p>
+<p>Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.</p>
+
+<p class="s i2">I think, I hope, I dream no more</p>
+    <p class="i4">The dreams of otherwhere,</p>
+    <p class="i4">The cherished thoughts of yore;</p>
+  <p class="i2">I have been changed from what I was before;</p>
+<p>And drunk too deep perchance the lotus of the air,</p>
+<p>Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page268"></a>268</span></p>
+
+<p class="s i2">Unweary, God me yet shall bring</p>
+    <p class="i4">To lands of brighter air,</p>
+    <p class="i4">Where I, now half a king,</p>
+  <p class="i2">Shall with enfranchised spirit loudlier sing,</p>
+<p>And wear a bolder front than that which now I wear</p>
+<p>Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><i>August 1879</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>V</h5>
+
+<h3>EPISTLE TO ALBERT DEW-SMITH</h3>
+
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Figure</span> me to yourself, I pray&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">A man of my peculiar cut&mdash;</p>
+<p>Apart from dancing and deray,<a name="FnAnchor_1h" href="#Footnote_1h"><span class="sp">1</span></a></p>
+  <p class="i1">Into an Alpine valley shut;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Shut in a kind of damned Hotel,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Discountenanced by God and man;</p>
+<p>The food?&mdash;Sir, you would do as well</p>
+  <p class="i1">To cram your belly full of bran.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The company? Alas, the day</p>
+  <p class="i1">That I should dwell with such a crew,</p>
+<p>With devil anything to say,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor any one to say it to!</p>
+
+<p class="s">The place? Although they call it Platz,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I will be bold and state my view;</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s not a place at all&mdash;and that&rsquo;s</p>
+  <p class="i1">The bottom verity, my Dew.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page269"></a>269</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">There are, as I will not deny,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Innumerable inns; a road;</p>
+<p>Several Alps indifferent high;</p>
+  <p class="i1">The snow&rsquo;s inviolable abode;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Eleven English parsons, all</p>
+  <p class="i1">Entirely inoffensive; four</p>
+<p>True human beings&mdash;what I call</p>
+  <p class="i1">Human&mdash;the deuce a cipher more;</p>
+
+<p class="s">A climate of surprising worth;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Innumerable dogs that bark;</p>
+<p>Some air, some weather, and some earth;</p>
+  <p class="i1">A native race&mdash;God save the mark!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="s">A race that works, yet cannot work,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Yodels, but cannot yodel right,</p>
+<p>Such as, unhelp&rsquo;d, with rusty dirk,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I vow that I could wholly smite.</p>
+
+<p class="s">A river that from morn to night</p>
+  <p class="i1">Down all the valley plays the fool;</p>
+<p>Not once she pauses in her flight,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Nor knows the comfort of a pool;</p>
+
+<p class="s">But still keeps up, by straight or bend,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The selfsame pace she hath begun&mdash;</p>
+<p>Still hurry, hurry, to the end&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">Good God, is that the way to run?</p>
+
+<p class="s">If I a river were, I hope</p>
+  <p class="i1">That I should better realise</p>
+<p>The opportunities and scope</p>
+  <p class="i1">Of that romantic enterprise.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page270"></a>270</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">I should not ape the merely strange,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But aim besides at the divine;</p>
+<p>And continuity and change</p>
+  <p class="i1">I still should labour to combine.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Here should I gallop down the race,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Here charge the sterling<a name="FnAnchor_2h" href="#Footnote_2h"><span class="sp">2</span></a> like a bull;</p>
+<p>There, as a man might wipe his face,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Lie, pleased and panting, in a pool.</p>
+
+<p class="s">But what, my Dew, in idle mood,</p>
+  <p class="i1">What prate I, minding not my debt?</p>
+<p>What do I talk of bad or good?</p>
+  <p class="i1">The best is still a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Me whether evil fate assault,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Or smiling providences crown&mdash;</p>
+<p>Whether on high the eternal vault</p>
+  <p class="i1">Be blue, or crash with thunder down&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="s">I judge the best, whate&rsquo;er befall,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Is still to sit on one&rsquo;s behind,</p>
+<p>And, having duly moistened all,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Smoke with an unperturbed mind.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Davos</span>, <i>November 1880</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr class="foot" />
+<div class="note">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1h" href="#FnAnchor_1h"><span class="fn">1</span></a> &ldquo;The whole front of the house was lighted, and there were pipes
+and fiddles, and as much dancing and deray within as used to be
+in Sir Robert&rsquo;s house at Pace and Yule, and such high seasons.&rdquo;&mdash;See
+&ldquo;Wandering Willie&rsquo;s Tale&rdquo; in &ldquo;Redgauntlet,&rdquo; borrowed
+perhaps from &ldquo;Christ&rsquo;s Kirk of the Green.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_2h" href="#FnAnchor_2h"><span class="fn">2</span></a> In architecture, a series of piles to defend the pier of a bridge.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VI</h5>
+
+<h3>ALCAICS TO HORATIO F. BROWN</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Brave</span> lads in olden musical centuries,</p>
+<p>Sang, night by night, adorable choruses,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sat late by alehouse doors in April</p>
+    <p class="i2">Chaunting in joy as the moon was rising:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page271"></a>271</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Moon-seen and merry, under the trellises,</p>
+<p>Flush-faced they played with old polysyllables;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Spring scents inspired, old wine diluted;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Love and Apollo were there to chorus.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Now these, the songs, remain to eternity,</p>
+<p>Those, only those, the bountiful choristers</p>
+    <p class="i2">Gone&mdash;those are gone, those unremembered</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sleep and are silent in earth for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="s">So man himself appears and evanishes,</p>
+<p>So smiles and goes; as wanderers halting at</p>
+    <p class="i2">Some green-embowered house, play their music,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Play and are gone on the windy highway;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Yet dwells the strain enshrined in the memory</p>
+<p>Long after they departed eternally,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Forth-faring tow&rsquo;rd far mountain summits,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Cities of men on the sounding Ocean.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Youth sang the song in years immemorial;</p>
+<p>Brave chanticleer, he sang and was beautiful;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Bird-haunted, green tree-tops in springtime</p>
+    <p class="i2">Heard and were pleased by the voice of singing;</p>
+
+<p class="s">Youth goes, and leaves behind him a prodigy&mdash;</p>
+<p>Songs sent by thee afar from Venetian</p>
+    <p class="i2">Sea-grey lagunes, sea-paven highways,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Dear to me here in my Alpine exile.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Davos</span>, <i>Spring 1881</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page272"></a>272</span></p>
+<h5>VII</h5>
+
+<h3>A LYTLE JAPE OF TUSHERIE</h3>
+
+<p class="ct"><i>By A. Tusher</i></p>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> pleasant river gushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">Among the meadows green;</p>
+<p>At home the author tushes;</p>
+  <p class="i1">For him it flows unseen.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The Birds among the Bushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">May wanton on the spray;</p>
+<p>But vain for him who tushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">The brightness of the day!</p>
+
+<p class="s">The frog among the rushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">Sits singing in the blue.</p>
+<p>By &rsquo;r la&rsquo;kin! but these tushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">Are wearisome to do!</p>
+
+<p class="s">The task entirely crushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">The spirit of the bard:</p>
+<p>God pity him who tushes&mdash;</p>
+  <p class="i1">His task is very hard.</p>
+
+<p class="s">The filthy gutter slushes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The clouds are full of rain,</p>
+<p>But doomed is he who tushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">To tush and tush again.</p>
+
+<p class="s">At morn with his hair-brushes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">Still &ldquo;tush&rdquo; he says and weeps;</p>
+<p>At night again he tushes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And tushes till he sleeps.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page273"></a>273</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">And when at length he pushes</p>
+  <p class="i1">Beyond the river dark&mdash;</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Las, to the man who tushes,</p>
+  <p class="i1">&ldquo;Tush&rdquo; shall be God&rsquo;s remark!</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Hy�res</span>, <i>May 1883</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>VIII</h5>
+
+<h3>TO VIRGIL AND DORA WILLIAMS</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Here</span>, from the forelands of the tideless sea,</p>
+<p>Behold and take my offering unadorned.</p>
+<p>In the Pacific air it sprang; it grew</p>
+<p>Among the silence of the Alpine air;</p>
+<p>In Scottish heather blossomed; and at last</p>
+<p>By that unshapen sapphire, in whose face</p>
+<p>Spain, Italy, France, Algiers, and Tunis view</p>
+<p>Their introverted mountains, came to fruit.</p>
+<p>Back now, my Booklet! on the diving ship,</p>
+<p>And posting on the rails, to home return,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Home, and the friends whose honouring name you bear.</p>
+
+<p class="scs s mi2">Hy�res, 1883.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>IX</h5>
+
+<h3>BURLESQUE SONNET</h3>
+
+<h5>TO �NEAS WILLIAM MACKINTOSH</h5>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Thee</span>, Mackintosh, artificer of light,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Thee, the lone smoker hails! the student, thee;</p>
+    <p class="i2">Thee, oft upon the ungovernable sea,</p>
+<p>The seaman, conscious of approaching night;</p>
+<p>Thou, with industrious fingers, hast outright</p>
+    <p class="i2">Mastered that art, of other arts the key,</p>
+    <p class="i2">That bids thick night before the morning flee,</p>
+<p>And lingering day retains for mortal sight.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page274"></a>274</span></p>
+<p>O Promethean workman, thee I hail,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Thee hallowed, thee unparalleled, thee bold</p>
+    <p class="i2">To affront the reign of sleep and darkness old,</p>
+        <p class="i4">Thee William, thee �neas, thee I sing;</p>
+<p>Thee by the glimmering taper clear and pale,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Of light, and light&rsquo;s purveyance, hail, the king.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>X</h5>
+
+<h3>THE FINE PACIFIC ISLANDS</h3>
+
+<h6>(HEARD IN A PUBLIC-HOUSE AT ROTHERHITHE)</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">The</span> jolly English Yellowboy</p>
+  <p class="i1">Is a &rsquo;ansome coin when new,</p>
+<p>The Yankee Double-eagle</p>
+  <p class="i1">Is large enough for two.</p>
+<p>O, these may do for seaport towns,</p>
+  <p class="i1">For cities these may do;</p>
+<p>But the dibbs that takes the Hislands</p>
+  <p class="i1">Are the dollars of Peru:</p>
+        <p class="i4">O, the fine Pacific Hislands,</p>
+        <p class="i4">O, the dollars of Peru!</p>
+
+<p class="s">It&rsquo;s there we buy the cocoanuts</p>
+  <p class="i1">Mast &rsquo;eaded in the blue;</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s there we trap the lasses</p>
+  <p class="i1">All waiting for the crew;</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s there we buy the trader&rsquo;s rum</p>
+  <p class="i1">What bores a seaman through....</p>
+<p>In the fine Pacific Hislands</p>
+  <p class="i1">With the dollars of Peru:</p>
+        <p class="i4">In the fine Pacific Hislands</p>
+        <p class="i4">With the dollars of Peru!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page275"></a>275</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">Now, messmates, when my watch is up,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And I am quite broached to,</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ll give a tip to &rsquo;Evving</p>
+  <p class="i1">Of the &rsquo;ansome thing to do:</p>
+<p>Let &rsquo;em just refit this sailor-man</p>
+  <p class="i1">And launch him off anew</p>
+<p>To cruise among the Hislands</p>
+  <p class="i1">With the dollars of Peru:</p>
+        <p class="i4">In the fine Pacific Hislands</p>
+        <p class="i4">With the dollars of Peru!</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Tahiti</span>, <i>August 1888</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XI</h5>
+
+<h3>AULD REEKIE</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">When</span> chitterin&rsquo; cauld the day sall daw,</p>
+<p>Loud may your bonny bugles blaw</p>
+    <p class="i2">And loud your drums may beat.</p>
+<p>Hie owre the land at evenfa&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Your lamps may glitter raw by raw,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Along the gowsty street.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I gang nae mair where ance I gaed,</p>
+<p>By Brunston, Fairmileheid, or Braid;</p>
+    <p class="i2">But far frae Kirk and Tron.</p>
+<p>O still ayont the muckle sea,</p>
+<p>Still are ye dear, and dear to me,</p>
+    <p class="i2">Auld Reekie, still and on!</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page276"></a>276</span></p>
+<h5>XII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE LESSON OF THE MASTER</h3>
+
+<h6>TO HENRY JAMES</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Adela</span>, Adela, Adela Chart,</p>
+<p>What have you done to my elderly heart?</p>
+<p>Of all the ladies of paper and ink</p>
+<p>I count you the paragon, call you the pink.</p>
+<p>The word of your brother depicts you in part:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You raving maniac!&rdquo; Adela Chart;</p>
+<p>But in all the asylums that cumber the ground,</p>
+<p>So delightful a maniac was ne&rsquo;er to be found.</p>
+
+<p class="s">I pore on you, dote on you, clasp you to heart,</p>
+<p>I laud, love, and laugh at you, Adela Chart,</p>
+<p>And thank my dear maker the while I admire</p>
+<p>That I can be neither your husband nor sire.</p>
+<p>Your husband&rsquo;s, your sire&rsquo;s, were a difficult part;</p>
+<p>You&rsquo;re a byway to suicide, Adela Chart;</p>
+<p>But to read of, depicted by exquisite James,</p>
+<p>O, sure you&rsquo;re the flower and quintessence of dames.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi1"><span class="sc">Vailima</span>, <i>October 1891</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIII</h5>
+
+<h3>THE CONSECRATION OF BRAILLE</h3>
+
+<h6>TO MRS. A. BAKER</h6>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">I was</span> a barren tree before,</p>
+  <p class="i1">I blew a quench�d coal,</p>
+<p>I could not, on their midnight shore,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The lonely blind console.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page277"></a>277</span></p>
+
+<p class="s">A moment, lend your hand, I bring</p>
+  <p class="i1">My sheaf for you to bind,</p>
+<p>And you can teach my words to sing</p>
+  <p class="i1">In the darkness of the blind.</p>
+
+<p class="f80 s mi2"><span class="sc">Vailima</span>, <i>December 1893</i>.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<h5>XIV</h5>
+
+<h3>SONG</h3>
+
+<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="poemr">
+
+<p><span class="sc">Light</span> foot and tight foot,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And green grass spread,</p>
+<p>Early in the morning,</p>
+  <p class="i1">But hope is on ahead.</p>
+
+<p class="s">Brief day and bright day,</p>
+  <p class="i1">And sunset red,</p>
+<p>Early in the evening,</p>
+  <p class="i1">The stars are overhead.</p>
+
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page278"></a>278</span></p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="ct f80">PRINTED BY<br />
+CASSELL &amp; CO., LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE<br />
+LONDON, E.C.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<div style="padding-top: 3em; ">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson -
+Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF R.L. STEVENSON V14 OF 25 ***
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson -
+Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+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: The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25)
+
+Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+Other: Andrew Lang
+
+Release Date: December 12, 2009 [EBook #30659]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF R.L. STEVENSON V14 OF 25 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+       THE WORKS OF
+
+  ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+     SWANSTON EDITION
+
+        VOLUME XIV
+
+
+  _Of this SWANSTON EDITION in Twenty-five
+  Volumes of the Works of ROBERT LOUIS
+  STEVENSON Two Thousand and Sixty Copies
+  have been printed, of which only Two Thousand
+  Copies are for sale._
+
+         _This is No._ ........
+
+[Illustration: ALISON CUNNINGHAM, R. L. S.'S NURSE]
+
+
+
+
+    THE WORKS OF
+
+    ROBERT LOUIS
+
+     STEVENSON
+
+  VOLUME FOURTEEN
+
+
+  LONDON : PUBLISHED BY CHATTO AND
+  WINDUS : IN ASSOCIATION WITH CASSELL
+  AND COMPANY LIMITED : WILLIAM
+  HEINEMANN : AND LONGMANS GREEN
+  AND COMPANY              MDCCCCXI
+
+
+
+
+  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+                                                                PAGE
+        I. BED IN SUMMER                                           3
+             In winter I get up at night
+
+       II. A THOUGHT                                               3
+             It is very nice to think
+
+      III. AT THE SEA-SIDE                                         4
+             When I was down beside the sea
+
+       IV. YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT                                     4
+             All night long, and every night
+
+        V. WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN                                  5
+             A child should always say what's true
+
+       VI. RAIN                                                    5
+             The rain is raining all around
+
+      VII. PIRATE STORY                                            5
+             Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing
+
+     VIII. FOREIGN LANDS                                           6
+             Up into the cherry-tree
+
+       IX. WINDY NIGHTS                                            7
+             Whenever the moon and stars are set
+
+        X. TRAVEL                                                  7
+             I should like to rise and go
+
+       XI. SINGING                                                 9
+             Of speckled eggs the birdie sings
+
+      XII. LOOKING FORWARD                                         9
+             When I am grown to man's estate
+
+     XIII. A GOOD PLAY                                             9
+             We built a ship upon the stairs
+
+      XIV. WHERE GO THE BOATS?                                    10
+             Dark brown is the river
+
+       XV. AUNTIE'S SKIRTS                                        11
+             Whenever Auntie moves around
+
+      XVI. THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE                                11
+             When I was sick and lay a-bed
+
+     XVII. THE LAND OF NOD                                        12
+             From breakfast on all through the day
+
+    XVIII. MY SHADOW                                              12
+             I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me
+
+      XIX. SYSTEM                                                 13
+             Every night my prayers I say
+
+       XX. A GOOD BOY                                             14
+             I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day
+
+      XXI. ESCAPE AT BEDTIME                                      14
+             The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out
+
+     XXII. MARCHING SONG                                          15
+             Bring the comb and play upon it
+
+    XXIII. THE COW                                                16
+             The friendly cow, all red and white
+
+     XXIV. HAPPY THOUGHT                                          16
+             The world is so full of a number of things
+
+      XXV. THE WIND                                               16
+             I saw you toss the kites on high
+
+     XXVI. KEEPSAKE MILL                                          17
+             Over the borders, a sin without pardon
+
+    XXVII. GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN                                  18
+             Children, you are very little
+
+   XXVIII. FOREIGN CHILDREN                                       19
+             Little Indian, Sioux or Crow
+
+     XXIX. THE SUN'S TRAVELS                                      20
+             The sun is not a-bed when I
+
+      XXX. THE LAMPLIGHTER                                        20
+             My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky
+
+     XXXI. MY BED IS A BOAT                                       21
+             My bed is like a little boat
+
+    XXXII. THE MOON                                               22
+             The moon has a face like the clock in the hall
+
+   XXXIII. THE SWING                                              22
+             How do you like to go up in a swing
+
+    XXXIV. TIME TO RISE                                           23
+             A birdie with a yellow bill
+
+     XXXV. LOOKING-GLASS RIVER                                    23
+             Smooth it slides upon its travel
+
+    XXXVI. FAIRY BREAD                                            24
+             Come up here, O dusty feet
+
+   XXXVII. FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE                                24
+             Faster than fairies, faster than witches
+
+  XXXVIII. WINTER-TIME                                            25
+             Late lies the wintry sun a-bed
+
+    XXXIX. THE HAYLOFT                                            26
+             Through all the pleasant meadow-side
+
+       XL. FAREWELL TO THE FARM                                   26
+             The coach is at the door at last
+
+      XLI. North-West Passage                                     27
+
+            1. GOOD NIGHT                                         27
+              When the bright lamp is carried in
+
+            2. SHADOW MARCH                                       28
+              All round the house is the jet-black night
+
+            3. IN PORT                                            28
+              Last, to the chamber where I lie
+
+
+  THE CHILD ALONE
+
+        I. THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE                                    31
+             When children are playing alone on the green
+
+       II. MY SHIP AND I                                          32
+             O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship
+
+      III. MY KINGDOM                                             32
+             Down by a shining water well
+
+       IV. PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER                                33
+             Summer fading, winter comes
+
+        V. MY TREASURES                                           34
+             These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest
+
+       VI. BLOCK CITY                                             35
+             What are you able to build with your blocks
+
+      VII. THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS                                36
+             At evening when the lamp is lit
+
+     VIII. ARMIES IN THE FIRE                                     37
+             The lamps now glitter down the street
+
+       IX. THE LITTLE LAND                                        38
+              When at home alone I sit
+
+
+  GARDEN DAYS
+
+        I. NIGHT AND DAY                                          43
+             When the golden day is done
+
+       II. NEST EGGS                                              44
+             Birds all the sunny day
+
+      III. THE FLOWERS                                            46
+             All the names I know from nurse
+
+       IV. SUMMER SUN                                             46
+             Great is the sun, and wide he goes
+
+        V. THE DUMB SOLDIER                                       47
+             When the grass was closely mown
+
+       VI. AUTUMN FIRES                                           49
+             In the other gardens
+
+      VII. THE GARDENER                                           49
+             The gardener does not love to talk
+
+     VIII. HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS                                50
+             Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground
+
+
+  ENVOYS
+
+        I. TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA                                55
+             If two may read aright
+
+       II. TO MY MOTHER                                           55
+             You too, my mother, read my rhymes
+
+      III. TO AUNTIE                                              56
+             _Chief of our aunts_--not only I
+
+       IV. TO MINNIE                                              56
+             The red room with the giant bed
+
+        V. TO MY NAME-CHILD                                       58
+             Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn
+               with proper speed.
+
+       VI. TO ANY READER                                          59
+             As from the house your mother sees
+
+
+  UNDERWOODS
+
+  BOOK I: IN ENGLISH
+
+        I. ENVOY                                                  67
+             Go, little book, and wish to all
+
+       II. A SONG OF THE ROAD                                     67
+             The gauger walked with willing foot
+
+      III. THE CANOE SPEAKS                                       68
+             On the great streams the ships may go
+
+       IV.                                                        70
+             It is the season now to go
+
+        V. THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL                                    71
+             _A naked house, a naked moor_
+
+       VI. A VISIT FROM THE SEA                                   72
+             Far from the loud sea beaches
+
+      VII. TO A GARDENER                                          73
+             Friend, in my mountain-side demesne
+
+     VIII. TO MINNIE                                              74
+             A picture-frame for you to fill
+
+       IX. TO K. DE M.                                            74
+             A lover of the moorland bare
+
+        X. TO N. V. DE G. S.                                      75
+             The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears
+
+       XI. TO WILL. H. LOW                                        76
+             Youth now flees on feathered foot
+
+      XII. TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW                                   77
+             Even in the bluest noonday of July
+
+     XIII. TO H. F. BROWN                                         78
+             I sit and wait a pair of oars
+
+      XIV. TO ANDREW LANG                                         79
+             Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair
+
+       XV. ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI (TO R. A. M. S.)              80
+             In ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt
+
+      XVI. TO W. E. HENLEY                                        82
+             The year runs through her phases; rain and sun
+
+     XVII. HENRY JAMES                                            83
+             Who comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain
+
+    XVIII. THE MIRROR SPEAKS                                      84
+             Where the bells peal far at sea
+
+      XIX. KATHARINE                                              85
+             We see you as we see a face
+
+       XX. TO F. J. S.                                            85
+             I read, dear friend, in your dear face
+
+      XXI. REQUIEM                                                86
+             Under the wide and starry sky
+
+     XXII. THE CELESTIAL SURGEON                                  86
+            If I have faltered more or less
+
+    XXIII. OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS                                  87
+             Out of the sun, out of the blast
+
+     XXIV.                                                        89
+             Not yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert
+
+      XXV.                                                        90
+             It is not yours, O mother, to complain
+
+     XXVI. THE SICK CHILD                                         92
+             O mother, lay your hand on my brow
+
+    XXVII. IN MEMORIAM F. A. S.                                   93
+             Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
+
+   XXVIII. TO MY FATHER                                           93
+             Peace and her huge invasion to these shores
+
+     XXIX. IN THE STATES                                          94
+             With half a heart I wander here
+
+      XXX. A PORTRAIT                                             95
+             I am a kind of farthing dip
+
+     XXXI.                                                        96
+             Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still
+
+    XXXII. A CAMP                                                 96
+             The bed was made, the room was fit
+
+   XXXIII. THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS                           96
+             We travelled in the print of olden wars
+
+    XXXIV. SKERRYVORE                                             97
+             For love of lovely words, and for the sake
+
+     XXXV. SKERRYVORE: THE PARALLEL                               97
+             Here all is sunny, and when the truant gull
+
+    XXXVI.                                                        98
+             _My house_, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
+
+   XXXVII.                                                        98
+             My body which my dungeon is
+
+  XXXVIII.                                                        99
+             Say not of me that weakly I declined
+
+
+  BOOK II: IN SCOTS
+
+        I. THE MAKER TO POSTERITY                                105
+             Far 'yont amang the years to be
+
+       II. ILLE TERRARUM                                         106
+             Frae nirly, nippin', Eas'lan' breeze
+
+      III.                                                       109
+             When aince Aprile has fairly come
+
+       IV. A MILE AN' A BITTOCK                                  110
+             A mile an' a bittock, a mile or twa
+
+        V. A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN                                 111
+             The clinkum-clank o' Sabbath bells
+
+       VI. THE SPAEWIFE                                          116
+             O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I
+
+      VII. THE BLAST--1875                                       116
+             It's rainin'. Weet's the gairden sod
+
+     VIII. THE COUNTERBLAST--1886                                118
+             My bonny man, the warld, it's true
+
+       IX. THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL                             120
+             It's strange that God should fash to frame
+
+        X. THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB        121
+             Dear Thamson class, whaure'er I gang
+
+       XI. EMBRO HIE KIRK                                        123
+             The Lord Himsel' in former days
+
+      XII. THE SCOTSMAN'S RETURN FROM ABROAD                     125
+             In mony a foreign pairt I've been
+
+     XIII.                                                       129
+             Late In the night in bed I lay
+
+      XIV. MY CONSCIENCE!                                        131
+             Of a' the ills that flesh can fear
+
+       XV. TO DR. JOHN BROWN                                     133
+             By Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees
+
+      XVI.                                                       135
+             It's an owercome sooth for age an' youth
+
+
+  BALLADS
+
+
+  THE SONG OF RAHERO
+
+  A LEGEND OF TAHITI
+
+        I. THE SLAYING OF TAMATEA                                139
+
+       II. THE VENGING OF TAMATEA                                148
+
+      III. RAHERO                                                159
+
+
+  THE FEAST OF FAMINE
+
+  MARQUESAN MANNERS
+
+        I. THE PRIEST'S VIGIL                                    169
+
+       II. THE LOVERS                                            172
+
+      III. THE FEAST                                             176
+
+       IV. THE RAID                                              182
+
+
+  TICONDEROGA
+
+  A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS
+
+        I. THE SAYING OF THE NAME                                189
+
+       II. THE SEEKING OF THE NAME                               194
+
+      III. THE PLACE OF THE NAME                                 196
+
+
+  HEATHER ALE
+
+  A GALLOWAY LEGEND
+
+  From the bonny bells of heather                                201
+
+
+  CHRISTMAS AT SEA
+
+  The sheets were frozen hard                                    207
+
+
+  NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO                                    211
+
+  NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE                                   213
+
+  NOTES TO TICONDEROGA                                           214
+
+  NOTE TO HEATHER ALE                                            215
+
+
+  SONGS OF TRAVEL
+
+        I. THE VAGABOND                                          219
+             Give to me the life I love
+
+       II. YOUTH AND LOVE--I                                     220
+             Once only by the garden gate
+
+      III. YOUTH AND LOVE--II                                    221
+             To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside
+
+       IV.                                                       221
+             In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand
+
+        V.                                                       222
+             She rested by the Broken Brook
+
+       VI.                                                       222
+             The infinite shining heavens
+
+      VII.                                                       223
+             Plain as the glistering planets shine
+
+     VIII.                                                       224
+             To you, let snow and roses
+
+       IX.                                                       224
+             Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams
+
+        X.                                                       225
+             I know not how it is with you
+
+       XI.                                                       225
+             I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
+
+      XII. WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE                                 226
+             Berried brake and reedy island
+
+     XIII. MATER TRIUMPHANS                                      227
+             Son of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and
+               fife
+
+      XIV.                                                       227
+             Bright is the ring of words
+
+       XV.                                                       228
+             In the highlands, in the country places
+
+      XVI.                                                       229
+             Home no more home to me, whither must I wander
+
+     XVII. WINTER                                                230
+             In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
+
+    XVIII.                                                       230
+             The stormy evening closes now in vain
+
+      XIX. TO DR. HAKE                                           231
+             In the beloved hour that ushers day
+
+       XX. TO ----                                               232
+             I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills
+
+      XXI.                                                       233
+             The morning drum-call on my eager ear
+
+     XXII.                                                       233
+             I have trod the upward and the downward slope
+
+    XXIII.                                                       233
+             He hears with gladdened heart the thunder
+
+     XXIV.                                                       233
+             Farewell, fair day and fading light
+
+      XXV. IF THIS WERE FAITH                                    234
+             God, if this were enough
+
+     XXVI. MY WIFE                                               235
+             Trusty, dusky, vivid, true
+
+    XXVII. TO THE MUSE                                           236
+             Resign the rhapsody, the dream
+
+   XXVIII. TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS                                 237
+             Since long ago, a child at home
+
+     XXIX. TO KALAKAUA                                           238
+             The Silver Ship, my King--that was her name
+
+      XXX. TO PRINCESS KAIULANI                                  239
+             Forth from her land to mine she goes
+
+     XXXI. TO MOTHER MARYANNE                                    240
+             To see the infinite pity of this place
+
+    XXXII. IN MEMORIAM E. H.                                     240
+             I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare
+
+   XXXIII. TO MY WIFE                                            241
+             Long must elapse ere you behold again
+
+    XXXIV. TO MY OLD FAMILIARS                                   242
+             Do you remember--can we e'er forget
+
+     XXXV.                                                       243
+             The tropics vanish, and meseems that I
+
+    XXXVI. TO S. C.                                              244
+             I heard the pulse of the besieging sea
+
+   XXXVII. THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA                                245
+             _Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards_
+
+  XXXVIII. THE WOODMAN                                           249
+             In all the grove, nor stream nor bird
+
+    XXXIX. TROPIC RAIN                                           254
+             As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is
+               mingled well
+
+       XL. AN END OF TRAVEL                                      255
+             Let now your soul in this substantial world
+
+      XLI.                                                       255
+             We uncommiserate pass into the night
+
+     XLII.                                                       256
+             Sing me a song of a lad that is gone
+
+    XLIII. TO S. R. CROCKETT                                     257
+             Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain
+               are flying
+
+     XLIV. EVENSONG                                              257
+             The embers of the day are red
+
+
+  ADDITIONAL POEMS
+
+        I. A FAMILIAR EPISTLE                                    261
+             Blame me not that this epistle
+
+       II. RONDELS                                               263
+             1. Far have you come, my lady, from the town
+             2. Nous n'irons plus au bois
+             3. Since I am sworn to live my life
+             4. Of his pitiable transformation
+
+      III. EPISTLE TO CHARLES BAXTER                             265
+             Noo lyart leaves blaw ower the green
+
+       IV. THE SUSQUEHANNAH AND THE DELAWARE                     267
+             Of where or how, I nothing know
+
+        V. EPISTLE TO ALBERT DEW-SMITH                           268
+             Figure me to yourself, I pray
+
+       VI. ALCAICS TO HORATIO F. BROWN                           270
+             Brave lads in olden musical centuries
+
+      VII. A LYTLE JAPE OF TUSHERIE                              272
+             The pleasant river gushes
+
+     VIII. TO VIRGIL AND DORA WILLIAMS                           273
+             Here, from the forelands of the tideless sea
+
+       IX. BURLESQUE SONNET                                      273
+             Thee, Mackintosh, artificer of light
+
+        X. THE FINE PACIFIC ISLANDS                              274
+             The jolly English Yellowboy
+
+       XI. AULD REEKIE                                           275
+             When chitterin' cauld the day sall daw
+
+      XII. THE LESSON OF THE MASTER                              276
+             Adela, Adela, Adela Chart
+
+     XIII. THE CONSECRATION OF BRAILLE                           276
+             I was a barren tree before
+
+      XIV. SONG                                                  277
+             Light foot and tight foot
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+
+
+  _TO
+  ALISON CUNNINGHAM
+  FROM HER BOY_
+
+
+  _For the long nights you lay awake
+  And watched for my unworthy sake:
+  For your most comfortable hand
+  That led me through the uneven land:
+  For all the story-books you read:
+  For all the pains you comforted:
+  For all you pitied, all you bore,
+  In sad and happy days of yore:--
+  My second Mother, my first Wife,
+  The angel of my infant life--
+  From the sick child, now well and old,
+  Take, nurse, the little book you hold!_
+
+  _And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
+  May find as dear a nurse at need,
+  And every child who lists my rhyme,
+  In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,
+  May hear it in as kind a voice
+  As made my childish days rejoice!_
+
+    _R. L. S._
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+
+
+I
+
+BED IN SUMMER
+
+  In winter I get up at night
+  And dress by yellow candle-light.
+  In summer, quite the other way,--
+  I have to go to bed by day.
+
+  I have to go to bed and see
+  The birds still hopping on the tree,
+  Or hear the grown-up people's feet
+  Still going past me in the street.
+
+  And does it not seem hard to you,
+  When all the sky is clear and blue,
+  And I should like so much to play,
+  To have to go to bed by day?
+
+
+II
+
+A THOUGHT
+
+  It is very nice to think
+  The world is full of meat and drink,
+  With little children saying grace
+  In every Christian kind of place.
+
+
+III
+
+AT THE SEA-SIDE
+
+  When I was down beside the sea,
+  A wooden spade they gave to me
+    To dig the sandy shore.
+  My holes were empty like a cup,
+  In every hole the sea came up,
+    Till it could come no more.
+
+
+IV
+
+YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT
+
+  All night long, and every night,
+  When my mamma puts out the light,
+  I see the people marching by,
+  As plain as day, before my eye.
+
+  Armies and emperors and kings,
+  All carrying different kinds of things,
+  And marching in so grand a way,
+  You never saw the like by day.
+
+  So fine a show was never seen
+  At the great circus on the green;
+  For every kind of beast and man
+  Is marching in that caravan.
+
+  At first they move a little slow,
+  But still the faster on they go,
+  And still beside them close I keep
+  Until we reach the town of Sleep.
+
+
+V
+
+WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN
+
+  A child should always say what's true,
+  And speak when he is spoken to,
+  And behave mannerly at table:
+  At least as far as he is able.
+
+
+VI
+
+RAIN
+
+  The rain is raining all around,
+    It falls on field and tree,
+  It rains on the umbrellas here,
+    And on the ships at sea.
+
+
+VII
+
+PIRATE STORY
+
+  Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
+    Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea.
+  Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,
+    And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
+
+  Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat,
+    Wary of the weather, and steering by a star?
+  Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,
+    To Providence, or Babylon, or off to Malabar?
+
+  Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea--
+    Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar!
+  Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be,
+    The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.
+
+
+VIII
+
+FOREIGN LANDS
+
+  Up into the cherry-tree
+  Who should climb but little me?
+  I held the trunk with both my hands
+  And looked abroad on foreign lands.
+
+  I saw the next-door garden lie,
+  Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
+  And many pleasant places more
+  That I had never seen before.
+
+  I saw the dimpling river pass
+  And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
+  The dusty roads go up and down
+  With people tramping in to town.
+
+  If I could find a higher tree,
+  Farther and farther I should see
+  To where the grown-up river slips
+  Into the sea among the ships,
+
+  To where the roads on either hand
+  Lead onward into fairy-land,
+  Where all the children dine at five,
+  And all the playthings come alive.
+
+
+IX
+
+WINDY NIGHTS
+
+  Whenever the moon and stars are set,
+    Whenever the wind is high,
+  All night long in the dark and wet,
+    A man goes riding by.
+  Late in the night when the fires are out,
+  Why does he gallop and gallop about?
+
+  Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
+    And ships are tossed at sea,
+  By, on the highway, low and loud,
+    By at the gallop goes he.
+  By at the gallop he goes, and then
+  By he comes back at the gallop again.
+
+
+X
+
+TRAVEL
+
+  I should like to rise and go
+  Where the golden apples grow;--
+  Where below another sky
+  Parrot islands anchored lie,
+  And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
+  Lonely Crusoes building boats;--
+  Where in sunshine reaching out
+  Eastern cities, miles about,
+  Are with mosque and minaret
+  Among sandy gardens set,
+  And the rich goods from near and far
+  Hang for sale in the bazaar;--
+  Where the Great Wall round China goes,
+  And on one side the desert blows,
+  And with bell and voice and drum,
+  Cities on the other hum;--
+  Where are forests, hot as fire,
+  Wide as England, tall as a spire,
+  Full of apes and cocoa-nuts
+  And the negro hunters' huts;--
+  Where the knotty crocodile
+  Lies and blinks in the Nile,
+  And the red flamingo flies
+  Hunting fish before his eyes;--
+  Where in jungles, near and far,
+  Man-devouring tigers are,
+  Lying close and giving ear
+  Lest the hunt be drawing near,
+  Or a comer-by be seen
+  Swinging in a palanquin;--
+  Where among the desert sands
+  Some deserted city stands,
+  All its children, sweep and prince,
+  Grown to manhood ages since,
+  Not a foot in street or house,
+  Nor a stir of child or mouse,
+  And when kindly falls the night,
+  In all the town no spark of light.
+  There I'll come when I'm a man
+  With a camel caravan;
+  Light a fire in the gloom
+  Of some dusty dining-room;
+  See the pictures on the walls,
+  Heroes, fights, and festivals;
+  And in a corner find the toys
+  Of the old Egyptian boys.
+
+
+XI
+
+SINGING
+
+  Of speckled eggs the birdie sings
+    And nests among the trees;
+  The sailor sings of ropes and things
+    In ships upon the seas.
+
+  The children sing in far Japan,
+    The children sing in Spain;
+  The organ with the organ man
+    Is singing in the rain.
+
+
+XII
+
+LOOKING FORWARD
+
+  When I am grown to man's estate
+  I shall be very proud and great,
+  And tell the other girls and boys
+  Not to meddle with my toys.
+
+
+XIII
+
+A GOOD PLAY
+
+  We built a ship upon the stairs
+  All made of the back-bedroom chairs
+  And filled it full of sofa pillows
+  To go a-sailing on the billows.
+
+  We took a saw and several nails,
+  And water in the nursery pails;
+  And Tom said, "Let us also take
+  An apple and a slice of cake";--
+  Which was enough for Tom and me
+  To go a-sailing on, till tea.
+
+  We sailed along for days and days,
+  And had the very best of plays;
+  But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
+  So there was no one left but me.
+
+
+XIV
+
+WHERE GO THE BOATS?
+
+  Dark brown is the river,
+    Golden is the sand.
+  It flows along for ever,
+    With trees on either hand.
+
+  Green leaves a-floating,
+    Castles of the foam,
+  Boats of mine a-boating--
+    Where will all come home?
+
+  On goes the river,
+    And out past the mill,
+  Away down the valley,
+    Away down the hill.
+
+  Away down the river,
+    A hundred miles or more,
+  Other little children
+    Shall bring my boats ashore.
+
+
+XV
+
+AUNTIE'S SKIRTS
+
+  Whenever Auntie moves around,
+  Her dresses make a curious sound;
+  They trail behind her up the floor,
+  And trundle after through the door.
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
+
+  When I was sick and lay a-bed,
+  I had two pillows at my head,
+  And all my toys beside me lay
+  To keep me happy all the day.
+
+  And sometimes for an hour or so
+  I watched my leaden soldiers go,
+  With different uniforms and drills,
+  Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
+
+  And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
+  All up and down among the sheets;
+  Or brought my trees and houses out,
+  And planted cities all about.
+
+  I was the giant great and still
+  That sits upon the pillow-hill,
+  And sees before him, dale and plain,
+  The pleasant land of counterpane.
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE LAND OF NOD
+
+  From breakfast on all through the day
+  At home among my friends I stay;
+  But every night I go abroad
+  Afar into the land of Nod.
+
+  All by myself I have to go,
+  With none to tell me what to do--
+  All alone beside the streams
+  And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
+
+  The strangest things are there for me,
+  Both things to eat and things to see,
+  And many frightening sights abroad
+  Till morning in the land of Nod.
+
+  Try as I like to find the way,
+  I never can get back by day,
+  Nor can remember plain and clear
+  The curious music that I hear.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+MY SHADOW
+
+  I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
+  And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
+  He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
+  And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
+
+  The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
+  Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
+  For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
+  And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.
+
+  He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
+  And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
+  He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
+  I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
+
+  One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
+  I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
+  But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
+  Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
+
+
+XIX
+
+SYSTEM
+
+  Every night my prayers I say,
+  And get my dinner every day;
+  And every day that I've been good,
+  I get an orange after food.
+
+  The child that is not clean and neat,
+  With lots of toys and things to eat,
+  He is a naughty child, I'm sure--
+  Or else his dear papa is poor.
+
+
+XX
+
+A GOOD BOY
+
+  I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
+  I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
+
+  And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,
+  And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.
+
+  My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
+  And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
+
+  I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,
+  No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes,
+
+  But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
+  And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.
+
+
+XXI
+
+ESCAPE AT BEDTIME
+
+  The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out
+    Through the blinds and the windows and bars;
+  And high overhead and all moving about,
+    There were thousands of millions of stars.
+  There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree,
+    Nor of people in church or the Park,
+  As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me,
+    And that glittered and winked in the dark.
+  The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all,
+    And the star of the sailor, and Mars,
+  These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall
+    Would be half full of water and stars.
+  They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries,
+    And they soon had me packed into bed;
+  But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes,
+    And the stars going round in my head.
+
+
+XXII
+
+MARCHING SONG
+
+  Bring the comb and play upon it!
+    Marching, here we come!
+  Willie cocks his Highland bonnet,
+    Johnnie beats the drum.
+
+  Mary Jane commands the party,
+    Peter leads the rear;
+  Feet in time, alert and hearty,
+    Each a Grenadier!
+
+  All in the most martial manner
+    Marching double-quick;
+  While the napkin like a banner
+    Waves upon the stick!
+
+  Here's enough of fame and pillage,
+    Great commander Jane!
+  Now that we've been round the village,
+    Let's go home again.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+THE COW
+
+  The friendly cow, all red and white,
+    I love with all my heart:
+  She gives me cream with all her might,
+    To eat with apple-tart.
+
+  She wanders lowing here and there,
+    And yet she cannot stray,
+  All in the pleasant open air,
+    The pleasant light of day;
+
+  And blown by all the winds that pass,
+    And wet with all the showers,
+  She walks among the meadow grass
+    And eats the meadow flowers.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+HAPPY THOUGHT
+
+  The world is so full of a number of things,
+  I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE WIND
+
+  I saw you toss the kites on high
+  And blow the birds about the sky;
+  And all around I heard you pass,
+  Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
+      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
+      O wind, that sings so loud a song!
+
+  I saw the different things you did,
+  But always you yourself you hid.
+  I felt you push, I heard you call,
+  I could not see yourself at all--
+      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
+      O wind, that sings so loud a song!
+
+  O you that are so strong and cold,
+  O blower, are you young or old?
+  Are you a beast of field and tree,
+  Or just a stronger child than me?
+      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
+      O wind, that sings so loud a song!
+
+
+XXVI
+
+KEEPSAKE MILL
+
+  Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
+    Breaking the branches and crawling below,
+  Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
+    Down by the banks of the river, we go.
+
+  Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,
+    Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,
+  Here is the sluice with the race running under--
+    Marvellous places, though handy to home!
+
+  Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
+    Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
+  Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
+    Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.
+
+  Years may go by, and the wheel in the river,
+    Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,
+  Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever,
+    Long after all of the boys are away.
+
+  Home from the Indies, and home from the ocean,
+    Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;
+  Still we shall find the old mill-wheel in motion,
+    Turning and churning that river to foam.
+
+  You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
+    I with your marble of Saturday last,
+  Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
+    Here we shall meet and remember the past.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN
+
+  Children, you are very little,
+  And your bones are very brittle;
+  If you would grow great and stately,
+  You must try to walk sedately.
+
+  You must still be bright and quiet,
+  And content with simple diet;
+  And remain, through all bewild'ring,
+  Innocent and honest children.
+
+  Happy hearts and happy faces,
+  Happy play in grassy places--
+  That was how, in ancient ages,
+  Children grew to kings and sages.
+
+  But the unkind and the unruly,
+  And the sort who eat unduly,
+  They must never hope for glory--
+  Theirs is quite a different story!
+
+  Cruel children, crying babies,
+  All grow up as geese and gabies,
+  Hated, as their age increases,
+  By their nephews and their nieces.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+FOREIGN CHILDREN
+
+    Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
+    Little frosty Eskimo,
+    Little Turk or Japanee,
+  O! don't you wish that you were me?
+
+  You have seen the scarlet trees
+  And the lions over seas;
+  You have eaten ostrich eggs,
+  And turned the turtles off their legs.
+
+  Such a life is very fine,
+  But it's not so nice as mine;
+  You must often, as you trod,
+  Have wearied _not_ to be abroad.
+
+  You have curious things to eat,
+  I am fed on proper meat;
+  You must dwell beyond the foam,
+  But I am safe and live at home.
+
+    Little Indian, Sioux or Crow
+    Little frosty Eskimo,
+    Little Turk or Japanee,
+  O! don't you wish that you were me?
+
+
+XXIX
+
+THE SUN'S TRAVELS
+
+  The sun is not a-bed when I
+  At night upon my pillow lie;
+  Still round the earth his way he takes,
+  And morning after morning makes.
+
+  While here at home, in shining day,
+  We round the sunny garden play,
+  Each little Indian sleepy-head
+  Is being kissed and put to bed.
+
+  And when at eve I rise from tea,
+  Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea,
+  And all the children in the West
+  Are getting up and being dressed.
+
+
+XXX
+
+THE LAMPLIGHTER
+
+  My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;
+  It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
+  For every night at tea-time and before you take your seat,
+  With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
+
+  Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
+  And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be;
+  But I, when I am stronger, and can choose what I'm to do,
+  O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!
+
+  For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
+  And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
+  And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light,
+  O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!
+
+
+XXXI
+
+MY BED IS A BOAT
+
+  My bed is like a little boat;
+    Nurse helps me in when I embark;
+  She girds me in my sailor's coat
+    And starts me in the dark.
+
+  At night, I go on board and say
+    Good-night to all my friends on shore;
+  I shut my eyes and sail away
+    And see and hear no more.
+
+  And sometimes things to bed I take,
+    As prudent sailors have to do:
+  Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,
+    Perhaps a toy or two.
+
+  All night across the dark we steer:
+    But when the day returns at last,
+  Safe in my room, beside the pier,
+    I find my vessel fast.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+THE MOON
+
+  The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
+  She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
+  On streets and fields and harbour quays,
+  And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
+
+  The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
+  The howling dog by the door of the house,
+  The bat that lies in bed at noon,
+  All love to be out by the light of the moon.
+
+  But all of the things that belong to the day
+  Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
+  And flowers and children close their eyes
+  Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+THE SWING
+
+  How do you like to go up in a swing,
+    Up in the air so blue?
+  Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
+    Ever a child can do!
+
+  Up in the air and over the wall,
+    Till I can see so wide,
+  Rivers and trees and cattle and all
+    Over the countryside--
+
+  Till I look down on the garden green,
+    Down on the roof so brown--
+  Up in the air I go flying again,
+    Up in the air and down!
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+TIME TO RISE
+
+  A birdie with a yellow bill
+  Hopped upon the window sill,
+  Cocked his shining eye and said:
+  "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?"
+
+
+XXXV
+
+LOOKING-GLASS RIVER
+
+  Smooth it slides upon its travel,
+    Here a wimple, there a gleam--
+        O the clean gravel!
+        O the smooth stream!
+
+  Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
+    Paven pools as clear as air--
+        How a child wishes
+        To live down there!
+
+  We can see our coloured faces
+    Floating on the shaken pool
+        Down in cool places,
+        Dim and very cool;
+
+  Till a wind or water wrinkle,
+    Dipping marten, plumping trout,
+        Spreads in a twinkle
+        And blots all out.
+
+  See the rings pursue each other;
+    All below grows black as night,
+        Just as if mother
+        Had blown out the light!
+
+  Patience, children, just a minute--
+    See the spreading circles die;
+        The stream and all in it
+        Will clear by-and-by.
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+FAIRY BREAD
+
+  Come up here, O dusty feet!
+  Here is fairy bread to eat.
+  Here in my retiring room,
+    Children, you may dine
+  On the golden smell of broom
+    And the shade of pine;
+  And when you have eaten well,
+  Fairy stories hear and tell.
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE
+
+  Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
+  Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
+  And charging along like troops in a battle,
+  All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
+  All of the sights of the hill and the plain
+  Fly as thick as driving rain;
+  And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
+  Painted stations whistle by.
+  Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
+  All by himself and gathering brambles;
+  Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
+  And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
+  Here is a cart run away in the road
+  Lumping along with man and load;
+  And here is a mill, and there is a river:
+  Each a glimpse and gone for ever!
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+WINTER-TIME
+
+  Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
+  A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
+  Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
+  A blood-red orange, sets again.
+
+  Before the stars have left the skies,
+  At morning in the dark I rise;
+  And shivering in my nakedness,
+  By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
+
+  Close by the jolly fire I sit
+  To warm my frozen bones a bit;
+  Or with a reindeer-sled explore
+  The colder countries round the door.
+
+  When, to go out, my nurse doth wrap
+  Me in my comforter and cap,
+  The cold wind burns my face, and blows
+  Its frosty pepper up my nose.
+
+  Black are my steps on silver sod;
+  Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
+  And tree and house, and hill and lake,
+  Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+THE HAYLOFT
+
+  Through all the pleasant meadow-side
+    The grass grew shoulder-high,
+  Till the shining scythes went far and wide
+    And cut it down to dry.
+
+  These green and sweetly smelling crops
+    They led in waggons home;
+  And they piled them here in mountain tops
+    For mountaineers to roam.
+
+  Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
+    Mount Eagle and Mount High;--
+  The mice that in these mountains dwell
+    No happier are than I!
+
+  O what a joy to clamber there,
+    O what a place for play,
+  With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
+    The happy hills of hay.
+
+
+XL
+
+FAREWELL TO THE FARM
+
+  The coach is at the door at last;
+  The eager children, mounting fast
+  And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+  To house and garden, field and lawn,
+  The meadow-gates we swang upon,
+  To pump and stable, tree and swing,
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+  And fare you well for evermore,
+  O ladder at the hayloft door,
+  O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+  Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
+  The trees and houses smaller grow;
+  Last, round the woody turn we swing:
+  Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
+
+
+XLI
+
+NORTH-WEST PASSAGE
+
+    1. GOOD NIGHT
+
+  When the bright lamp is carried in,
+  The sunless hours again begin;
+  O'er all without, in field and lane,
+  The haunted night returns again.
+
+  Now we behold the embers flee
+  About the firelit hearth; and see
+  Our faces painted as we pass,
+  Like pictures, on the window-glass.
+
+  Must we to bed indeed? Well then,
+  Let us arise and go like men,
+  And face with an undaunted tread
+  The long black passage up to bed.
+
+  Farewell, O brother, sister, sire!
+  O pleasant party round the fire!
+  The songs you sing, the tales you tell,
+  Till far to-morrow, fare ye well!
+
+    2. SHADOW MARCH
+
+  All round the house is the jet-black night;
+    It stares through the window-pane;
+  It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
+    And it moves with the moving flame.
+
+  Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,
+    With the breath of the Bogie in my hair;
+  And all round the candle the crooked shadows come
+    And go marching along up the stair.
+
+  The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
+    The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
+  All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp,
+    With the black night overhead.
+
+    3. IN PORT
+
+  Last, to the chamber where I lie
+  My fearful footsteps patter nigh,
+  And come from out the cold and gloom
+  Into my warm and cheerful room.
+
+  There, safe arrived, we turned about
+  To keep the coming shadows out,
+  And close the happy door at last
+  On all the perils that we passed.
+
+  Then, when mamma goes by to bed,
+  She shall come in with tip-toe tread,
+  And see me lying warm and fast
+  And in the land of Nod at last.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD ALONE
+
+
+I
+
+THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE
+
+  When children are playing alone on the green,
+  In comes the playmate that never was seen.
+  When children are happy and lonely and good,
+  The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.
+
+  Nobody heard him and nobody saw,
+  His is a picture you never could draw,
+  But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home,
+  When children are happy and playing alone.
+
+  He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,
+  He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;
+  Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why,
+  The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!
+
+  He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
+  'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
+  'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
+  That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
+
+  'Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,
+  Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;
+  For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
+  'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!
+
+
+II
+
+MY SHIP AND I
+
+  O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,
+    Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond;
+  And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;
+  But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out
+    How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.
+
+  For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm,
+    And the dolly I intend to come alive;
+  And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go,
+  It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow
+    And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.
+
+  O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,
+    And you'll hear the water singing at the prow;
+  For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore,
+  To land upon the island where no dolly was before,
+    And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.
+
+
+III
+
+MY KINGDOM
+
+  Down by a shining water well
+  I found a very little dell,
+    No higher than my head.
+  The heather and the gorse about
+  In summer bloom were coming out,
+    Some yellow and some red.
+
+  I called the little pool a sea;
+  The little hills were big to me;
+    For I am very small.
+  I made a boat, I made a town,
+  I searched the caverns up and down,
+    And named them one and all.
+
+  And all about was mine, I said,
+  The little sparrows overhead,
+    The little minnows too.
+  This was the world, and I was king;
+  For me the bees came by to sing,
+    For me the swallows flew.
+
+  I played there were no deeper seas,
+  Nor any wider plains than these,
+    Nor other kings than me.
+  At last I heard my mother call
+  Out from the house at even-fall,
+    To call me home to tea.
+
+  And I must rise and leave my dell,
+  And leave my dimpled water well,
+    And leave my heather blooms.
+  Alas! and as my home I neared,
+  How very big my nurse appeared,
+    How great and cool the rooms!
+
+
+IV
+
+PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER
+
+  Summer fading, winter comes--
+  Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
+  Window robins, winter rooks,
+  And the picture story-books.
+
+  Water now is turned to stone
+  Nurse and I can walk upon;
+  Still we find the flowing brooks
+  In the picture story-books.
+
+  All the pretty things put by
+  Wait upon the children's eye,
+  Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
+  In the picture story-books.
+
+  We may see how all things are,
+  Seas and cities, near and far,
+  And the flying fairies' looks,
+  In the picture story-books.
+
+  How am I to sing your praise,
+  Happy chimney-corner days,
+  Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
+  Reading picture story-books?
+
+
+V
+
+MY TREASURES
+
+  These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest
+  Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest,
+  Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me
+  In a wood with a well by the side of the sea.
+
+  This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!)
+  By the side of a field at the end of the grounds.
+  Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own,
+  It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone!
+
+  The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey,
+  We discovered I cannot tell _how_ far away;
+  And I carried it back, although weary and cold,
+  For, though father denies it, I'm sure it is gold.
+
+  But of all of my treasures the last is the king,
+  For there's very few children possess such a thing;
+  And that is a chisel, both handle and blade,
+  Which a man who was really a carpenter made.
+
+
+VI
+
+BLOCK CITY
+
+  What are you able to build with your blocks?
+  Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
+  Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
+  But I can be happy and building at home.
+
+  Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
+  There I'll establish a city for me:
+  A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
+  And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.
+
+  Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
+  A sort of a tower on the top of it all,
+  And steps coming down in an orderly way
+  To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
+
+  This one is sailing and that one is moored:
+  Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
+  And see, on the steps of my palace, the kings
+  Coming and going with presents and things!
+
+  Now I have done with it, down let it go!
+  All in a moment the town is laid low.
+  Block upon block lying scattered and free,
+  What is there left of my town by the sea?
+
+  Yet, as I saw it, I see it again,
+  The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men,
+  And as long as I live, and where'er I may be,
+  I'll always remember my town by the sea.
+
+
+VII
+
+THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS
+
+  At evening when the lamp is lit,
+  Around the fire my parents sit;
+  They sit at home and talk and sing,
+  And do not play at anything.
+
+  Now, with my little gun, I crawl
+  All in the dark along the wall,
+  And follow round the forest track
+  Away behind the sofa back.
+
+  There, in the night, where none can spy,
+  All in my hunter's camp I lie,
+  And play at books that I have read
+  Till it is time to go to bed.
+
+  These are the hills, these are the woods,
+  These are my starry solitudes;
+  And there the river by whose brink
+  The roaring lions come to drink.
+
+  I see the others far away
+  As if in firelit camp they lay,
+  And I, like to an Indian scout,
+  Around their party prowled about
+
+  So, when my nurse comes in for me,
+  Home I return across the sea,
+  And go to bed with backward looks
+  At my dear land of Story-books.
+
+
+VIII
+
+ARMIES IN THE FIRE
+
+  The lamps now glitter down the street;
+  Faintly sound the falling feet;
+  And the blue even slowly falls
+  About the garden trees and walls.
+
+  Now in the falling of the gloom
+  The red fire paints the empty room:
+  And warmly on the roof it looks,
+  And flickers on the backs of books.
+
+  Armies march by tower and spire
+  Of cities blazing, in the fire;--
+  Till as I gaze with staring eyes,
+  The armies fade, the lustre dies.
+
+  Then once again the glow returns;
+  Again the phantom city burns;
+  And down the red-hot valley, lo!
+  The phantom armies marching go!
+
+  Blinking embers, tell me true
+  Where are those armies marching to,
+  And what the burning city is
+  That crumbles in your furnaces!
+
+
+IX
+
+THE LITTLE LAND
+
+  When at home alone I sit
+  And am very tired of it,
+  I have just to shut my eyes
+  To go sailing through the skies--
+  To go sailing far away
+  To the pleasant Land of Play;
+  To the fairy land afar
+  Where the Little People are;
+  Where the clover-tops are trees,
+  And the rain-pools are the seas,
+  And the leaves like little ships
+  Sail about on tiny trips;
+  And above the daisy tree
+     Through the grasses,
+  High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
+     Hums and passes.
+
+  In that forest to and fro
+  I can wander, I can go;
+  See the spider and the fly,
+  And the ants go marching by
+  Carrying parcels with their feet
+  Down the green and grassy street.
+  I can in the sorrel sit
+  Where the ladybird alit.
+  I can climb the jointed grass;
+     And on high
+  See the greater swallows pass
+     In the sky,
+  And the round sun rolling by
+  Heeding no such things as I.
+
+  Through that forest I can pass
+  Till, as in a looking-glass,
+  Humming fly and daisy tree
+  And my tiny self I see
+  Painted very clear and neat
+  On the rain-pool at my feet.
+  Should a leaflet come to land
+  Drifting near to where I stand,
+  Straight I'll board that tiny boat
+  Round the rain-pool sea to float.
+
+  Little thoughtful creatures sit
+  On the grassy coasts of it;
+  Little things with lovely eyes
+  See me sailing with surprise.
+  Some are clad in armour green--
+  (These have sure to battle been!)--
+  Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
+  Black and crimson, gold and blue;
+  Some have wings and swift are gone;--
+  But they all look kindly on.
+
+  When my eyes I once again
+  Open and see all things plain;
+  High bare walls, great bare floor;
+  Great big knobs on drawer and door;
+  Great big people perched on chairs,
+  Stitching tucks and mending tears,
+  Each a hill that I could climb,
+  And talking nonsense all the time--
+     O dear me,
+     That I could be
+  A sailor on the rain-pool sea,
+  A climber in the clover-tree,
+  And just come back, a sleepy-head,
+  Late at night to go to bed.
+
+
+
+
+GARDEN DAYS
+
+
+I
+
+NIGHT AND DAY
+
+  When the golden day is done,
+    Through the closing portal,
+  Child and garden, flower and sun,
+    Vanish all things mortal.
+
+  As the blinding shadows fall,
+    As the rays diminish,
+  Under evening's cloak, they all
+    Roll away and vanish.
+
+  Garden darkened, daisy shut,
+    Child in bed, they slumber--
+  Glow-worm in the highway rut,
+    Mice among the lumber.
+
+  In the darkness houses shine,
+    Parents move with candles;
+  Till on all the night divine
+    Turns the bedroom handles.
+
+  Till at last the day begins
+    In the east a-breaking,
+  In the hedges and the whins
+    Sleeping birds a-waking.
+
+  In the darkness shapes of things,
+    Houses, trees, and hedges,
+  Clearer grow; and sparrows' wings
+    Beat on window ledges.
+
+  These shall wake the yawning maid;
+    She the door shall open--
+  Finding dew on garden glade
+    And the morning broken.
+
+  There my garden grows again
+    Green and rosy painted,
+  As at eve behind the pane
+    From my eyes it fainted.
+
+  Just as it was shut away,
+    Toy-like, in the even,
+  Here I see it glow with day
+    Under glowing heaven.
+
+  Every path and every plot,
+    Every bush of roses,
+  Every blue forget-me-not
+    Where the dew reposes,
+
+  "Up!" they cry, "the day is come
+    On the smiling valleys:
+  We have beat the morning drum;
+    Playmate, join your allies!"
+
+
+II
+
+NEST EGGS
+
+  Birds all the sunny day
+    Flutter and quarrel,
+  Here in the arbour-like
+    Tent of the laurel.
+
+  Here in the fork
+    The brown nest is seated;
+  Four little blue eggs
+    The mother keeps heated.
+
+  While we stand watching her,
+    Staring like gabies,
+  Safe in each egg are the
+    Bird's little babies.
+
+  Soon the frail eggs they shall
+    Chip, and upspringing
+  Make all the April woods
+    Merry with singing.
+
+  Younger than we are,
+    O children, and frailer,
+  Soon in blue air they'll be,
+    Singer and sailor.
+
+  We, so much older,
+    Taller and stronger,
+  We shall look down on the
+    Birdies no longer.
+
+  They shall go flying
+    With musical speeches
+  High overhead in the
+    Tops of the beeches.
+
+  In spite of our wisdom
+    And sensible talking,
+  We on our feet must go
+    Plodding and walking.
+
+
+III
+
+THE FLOWERS
+
+  All the names I know from nurse:
+  Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
+  Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
+  And the Lady Hollyhock.
+
+  Fairy places, fairy things,
+  Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
+  Tiny trees for tiny dames--
+  These must all be fairy names!
+
+  Tiny woods below whose boughs
+  Shady fairies weave a house;
+  Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
+  Where the braver fairies climb!
+
+  Fair are grown-up people's trees,
+  But the fairest woods are these;
+  Where if I were not so tall,
+  I should live for good and all.
+
+
+IV
+
+SUMMER SUN
+
+  Great is the sun, and wide he goes
+  Through empty heaven without repose;
+  And in the blue and glowing days
+  More thick than rain he showers his rays.
+
+  Though closer still the blinds we pull
+  To keep the shady parlour cool,
+  Yet he will find a chink or two
+  To slip his golden fingers through.
+
+  The dusty attic, spider-clad,
+  He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
+  And through the broken edge of tiles
+  Into the laddered hayloft smiles.
+
+  Meantime his golden face around
+  He bares to all the garden ground,
+  And sheds a warm and glittering look
+  Among the ivy's inmost nook.
+
+  Above the hills, along the blue,
+  Round the bright air with footing true,
+  To please the child, to paint the rose,
+  The gardener of the World, he goes.
+
+
+V
+
+THE DUMB SOLDIER
+
+  When the grass was closely mown,
+  Walking on the lawn alone,
+  In the turf a hole I found
+  And hid a soldier underground.
+
+  Spring and daisies came apace;
+  Grasses hide my hiding-place;
+  Grasses run like a green sea
+  O'er the lawn up to my knee.
+
+  Under grass alone he lies,
+  Looking up with leaden eyes,
+  Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
+  To the stars and to the sun.
+
+  When the grass is ripe like grain,
+  When the scythe is stoned again,
+  When the lawn is shaven clear,
+  Then my hole shall reappear.
+
+  I shall find him, never fear,
+  I shall find my grenadier;
+  But, for all that's gone and come,
+  I shall find my soldier dumb.
+
+  He has lived, a little thing,
+  In the grassy woods of spring;
+  Done, if he could tell me true,
+  Just as I should like to do.
+
+  He has seen the starry hours
+  And the springing of the flowers;
+  And the fairy things that pass
+  In the forests of the grass.
+
+  In the silence he has heard
+  Talking bee and ladybird,
+  And the butterfly has flown
+  O'er him as he lay alone.
+
+  Not a word will he disclose,
+  Not a word of all he knows.
+  I must lay him on the shelf,
+  And make up the tale myself.
+
+
+VI
+
+AUTUMN FIRES
+
+  In the other gardens
+    And all up the vale,
+  From the autumn bonfires
+    See the smoke trail!
+
+  Pleasant summer over,
+    And all the summer flowers,
+  The red fire blazes,
+    The grey smoke towers.
+
+  Sing a song of seasons!
+    Something bright in all!
+  Flowers in the summer,
+    Fires in the fall!
+
+
+VII
+
+THE GARDENER
+
+  The gardener does not love to talk,
+  He makes me keep the gravel walk;
+  And when he puts his tools away,
+  He locks the door and takes the key.
+
+  Away behind the currant row
+  Where no one else but cook may go,
+  Far in the plots, I see him dig,
+  Old and serious, brown and big.
+
+  He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
+  Nor wishes to be spoken to.
+  He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
+  And never seems to want to play.
+
+  Silly gardener! summer goes,
+  And winter comes with pinching toes,
+  When in the garden bare and brown
+  You must lay your barrow down.
+
+  Well now, and while the summer stays,
+  To profit by these garden days,
+  O how much wiser you would be
+  To play at Indian wars with me!
+
+
+VIII
+
+HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS
+
+  Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground,
+  That now you smoke your pipe around,
+  Has seen immortal actions done
+  And valiant battles lost and won.
+
+  Here we had best on tip-toe tread,
+  While I for safety march ahead,
+  For this is that enchanted ground
+  Where all who loiter slumber sound.
+
+  Here is the sea, here is the sand,
+  Here is simple Shepherd's Land,
+  Here are the fairy hollyhocks,
+  And there are Ali Baba's rocks.
+
+  But yonder, see! apart and high,
+  Frozen Siberia lies; where I,
+  With Robert Bruce and William Tell,
+  Was bound by an enchanter's spell.
+
+  There, then, a while in chains we lay,
+  In wintry dungeons, far from day;
+  But ris'n at length, with might and main,
+  Our iron fetters burst in twain.
+
+  Then all the horns were blown in town;
+  And, to the ramparts clanging down,
+  All the giants leaped to horse
+  And charged behind us through the gorse.
+
+  On we rode, the others and I,
+  Over the mountains blue, and by
+  The Silver River, the sounding sea,
+  And the robber woods of Tartary.
+
+  A thousand miles we galloped fast,
+  And down the witches' lane we passed,
+  And rode amain, with brandished sword,
+  Up to the middle, through the ford.
+
+  Last we drew rein--a weary three--
+  Upon the lawn, in time for tea,
+  And from our steeds alighted down
+  Before the gates of Babylon.
+
+
+
+
+ENVOYS
+
+
+I
+
+TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA
+
+    If two may read aright
+    These rhymes of old delight
+    And house and garden play,
+  You two, my cousins, and you only, may.
+
+    You in a garden green
+    With me were king and queen,
+    Were hunter, soldier, tar,
+  And all the thousand things that children are.
+
+    Now in the elders' seat
+    We rest with quiet feet,
+    And from the window-bay
+  We watch the children, our successors, play.
+
+    "Time was," the golden head
+    Irrevocably said;
+    But time which none can bind,
+  While flowing fast away, leaves love behind.
+
+
+II
+
+TO MY MOTHER
+
+  You too, my mother, read my rhymes
+  For love of unforgotten times,
+  And you may chance to hear once more
+  The little feet along the floor.
+
+
+III
+
+TO AUNTIE
+
+  _Chief of our aunts_--not only I,
+  But all your dozen of nurslings cry--
+  _What did the other children do?
+  And what were childhood, wanting you?_
+
+
+IV
+
+TO MINNIE
+
+  The red room with the giant bed
+  Where none but elders lay their head;
+  The little room where you and I
+  Did for a while together lie,
+  And, simple suitor, I your hand
+  In decent marriage did demand;
+  The great day-nursery, best of all,
+  With pictures pasted on the wall
+  And leaves upon the blind--
+  A pleasant room wherein to wake
+  And hear the leafy garden shake
+  And rustle in the wind--
+  And pleasant there to lie in bed
+  And see the pictures overhead--
+  The wars about Sebastopol,
+  The grinning guns along the wall,
+  The daring escalade,
+  The plunging ships, the bleating sheep,
+  The happy children ankle-deep,
+  And laughing as they wade:
+  All these are vanished clean away,
+  And the old manse is changed to-day;
+  It wears an altered face
+  And shields a stranger race.
+  The river, on from mill to mill,
+  Flows past our childhood's garden still;
+  But ah! we children never more
+  Shall watch it from the water-door!
+  Below the yew--it still is there--
+  Our phantom voices haunt the air
+  As we were still at play,
+  And I can hear them call and say:
+  "_How far is it to Babylon?_"
+
+  Ah, far enough, my dear,
+  Far, far enough from here--
+  Yet you have farther gone!
+  "_Can I get there by candlelight?_"
+  So goes the old refrain.
+  I do not know--perchance you might--
+  But only, children, hear it right,
+  Ah, never to return again!
+  The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt,
+  Shall break on hill and plain,
+  And put all stars and candles out,
+  Ere we be young again.
+
+  To you in distant India, these
+  I send across the seas,
+  Nor count it far across.
+  For which of us forgets
+  The Indian cabinets,
+  The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross,
+  The pied and painted birds and beans,
+  The junks and bangles, beads and screens,
+  The gods and sacred bells,
+  And the loud-humming, twisted shells?
+  The level of the parlour floor
+  Was honest, homely, Scottish shore;
+  But when we climbed upon a chair,
+  Behold the gorgeous East was there!
+  Be this a fable; and behold
+  Me in the parlour as of old,
+  And Minnie just above me set
+  In the quaint Indian cabinet!
+  Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf
+  Too high for me to reach myself.
+  Reach down a hand, my dear, and take
+  These rhymes for old acquaintance' sake.
+
+
+V
+
+TO MY NAME-CHILD
+
+    1
+
+  Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed,
+  Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read.
+  Then shall you discover that your name was printed down
+  By the English printers, long before, in London town.
+
+  In the great and busy city where the East and West are met,
+  All the little letters did the English printer set;
+  While you thought of nothing, and were still too young to play,
+  Foreign people thought of you in places far away.
+
+  Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the English lands
+  Other little children took the volume in their hands;
+  Other children questioned, in their homes across the seas:
+  Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother, please?
+
+    2
+
+  Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and go and play,
+  Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey,
+  Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried by the breeze,
+  Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas.
+
+  And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls to you,
+  Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do;
+  And that while you thought of no one, nearly half the world away
+  Some one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey!
+
+
+VI
+
+TO ANY READER
+
+  As from the house your mother sees
+  You playing round the garden trees,
+  So you may see, if you will look
+  Through the windows of this book,
+  Another child, far, far away,
+  And in another garden, play.
+  But do not think you can at all,
+  By knocking on the window, call
+  That child to hear you. He intent
+  Is all on his play-business bent.
+  He does not hear; he will not look,
+  Not yet be lured out of this book.
+  For, long ago, the truth to say,
+  He has grown up and gone away,
+  And it is but a child of air
+  That lingers in the garden there.
+
+
+
+
+UNDERWOODS
+
+
+  _Of all my verse, like not a single line;
+  But like my title, for it is not mine.
+  That title from a better man I stole;
+  Ah, how much better, had I stol'n the whole!_
+
+
+_DEDICATION_
+
+_There are men and classes of men that stand above the common herd: the
+soldier, the sailor, and the shepherd not unfrequently; the artist
+rarely; rarelier still, the clergyman; the physician almost as a rule.
+He is the flower (such as it is) of our civilisation; and when that
+stage of man is done with, and only remembered to be marvelled at in
+history, he will be thought to have shared as little as any in the
+defects of the period, and most notably exhibited the virtues of the
+race. Generosity he has, such as is possible to those who practise an
+art, never to those who drive a trade; discretion, tested by a hundred
+secrets; tact, tried in a thousand embarrassments; and, what are more
+important, Heraclean cheerfulness and courage. So it is that he brings
+air and cheer into the sickroom, and often enough, though not so often
+as he wishes, brings healing._
+
+_Gratitude is but a lame sentiment; thanks, when they are expressed, are
+often more embarrassing than welcome; and yet I must set forth mine to a
+few out of many doctors who have brought me comfort and help: to_ Dr.
+Willey _of San Francisco, whose kindness to a stranger it must be as
+grateful to him, as it is touching to me, to remember; to_ Dr. Karl
+Ruedi _of Davos, the good genius of the English in his frosty mountains;
+to_ Dr. Herbert _of Paris, whom I knew only for a week, and to_ Dr.
+Caissot _of Montpellier, whom I knew only for ten days, and who have yet
+written their names deeply in my memory; to_ Dr. Brandt _of Royat; to_
+Dr. Wakefield _of Nice; to_ Dr. Chepmell, _whose visits make it a
+pleasure to be ill; to_ Dr. Horace Dobell, _so wise in counsel; to_ Sir
+Andrew Clark, _so unwearied in kindness; and to that wise youth, my
+uncle_, Dr. Balfour.
+
+_I forget as many as I remember; and I ask both to pardon me, these for
+silence, those for inadequate speech. But one name I have kept on
+purpose to the last, because it is a household word with me, and because
+if I had not received favours from so many hands and in so many quarters
+of the world, it should have stood upon this page alone: that of my
+friend _Thomas Bodley Scott_ of Bournemouth. Will he accept this,
+although shared among so many, for a dedication to himself? and when
+next my ill-fortune (which has thus its pleasant side) brings him
+hurrying to me when he would fain sit down to meat or lie down to rest,
+will he care to remember that he takes this trouble for one who is not
+fool enough to be ungrateful?_
+
+  _R. L. S._
+
+  _Skerryvore,
+    Bournemouth._
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+IN ENGLISH
+
+
+UNDERWOODS
+
+
+I
+
+ENVOY
+
+  Go, little book, and wish to all
+  Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
+  A bin of wine, a spice of wit,
+  A house with lawns enclosing it,
+  A living river by the door,
+  A nightingale in the sycamore!
+
+
+II
+
+A SONG OF THE ROAD
+
+  The gauger walked with willing foot,
+  And aye the gauger played the flute;
+  And what should Master Gauger play
+  But _Over the hills and far away_?
+
+  Whene'er I buckle on my pack
+  And foot it gaily in the track,
+  O pleasant gauger, long since dead,
+  I hear you fluting on ahead.
+
+  You go with me the selfsame way--
+  The selfsame air for me you play;
+  For I do think and so do you
+  It is the tune to travel to.
+
+  For who would gravely set his face
+  To go to this or t'other place?
+  There's nothing under heav'n so blue
+  That's fairly worth the travelling to.
+
+  On every hand the roads begin,
+  And people walk with zeal therein;
+  But wheresoe'er the highways tend,
+  Be sure there's nothing at the end.
+
+  Then follow you, wherever hie
+  The travelling mountains of the sky.
+  Or let the streams in civil mode
+  Direct your choice upon a road;
+
+  For one and all, or high or low,
+  Will lead you where you wish to go;
+  And one and all go night and day
+  _Over the hills and far away_!
+
+    FOREST OF MONTARGIS, 1878.
+
+
+III
+
+THE CANOE SPEAKS
+
+  On the great streams the ships may go
+  About men's business to and fro.
+  But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep
+  On crystal waters ankle-deep:
+  I, whose diminutive design,
+  Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine,
+  Is fashioned on so frail a mould,
+  A hand may launch, a hand withhold:
+  I, rather, with the leaping trout
+  Wind, among lilies, in and out;
+  I, the unnamed, inviolate,
+  Green, rustic rivers navigate;
+  My dipping paddle scarcely shakes
+  The berry in the bramble-brakes;
+  Still forth on my green way I wend
+  Beside the cottage garden-end;
+  And by the nested angler fare,
+  And take the lovers unaware.
+  By willow wood and water-wheel
+  Speedily fleets my touching keel;
+  By all retired and shady spots
+  Where prosper dim forget-me-nots;
+  By meadows where at afternoon
+  The growing maidens troop in June
+  To loose their girdles on the grass.
+  Ah! speedier than before the glass
+  The backward toilet goes; and swift
+  As swallows quiver, robe and shift
+  And the rough country stockings lie
+  Around each young divinity.
+  When, following the recondite brook,
+  Sudden upon this scene I look,
+  And light with unfamiliar face
+  On chaste Diana's bathing-place,
+  Loud ring the hills about and all
+  The shallows are abandoned....
+
+
+IV
+
+  It is the season now to go
+  About the country high and low,
+  Among the lilacs hand in hand,
+  And two by two in fairyland.
+
+  The brooding boy, the sighing maid,
+  Wholly fain and half afraid,
+  Now meet along the hazel'd brook
+  To pass and linger, pause and look.
+
+  A year ago, and blithely paired,
+  Their rough-and-tumble play they shared;
+  They kissed and quarrelled, laughed and cried,
+  A year ago at Eastertide.
+
+  With bursting heart, with fiery face,
+  She strove against him in the race;
+  He unabashed her garter saw,
+  That now would touch her skirts with awe.
+
+  Now by the stile ablaze she stops,
+  And his demurer eyes he drops;
+  Now they exchange averted sighs
+  Or stand and marry silent eyes.
+
+  And he to her a hero is
+  And sweeter she than primroses;
+  Their common silence dearer far
+  Than nightingale and mavis are.
+
+  Now when they sever wedded hands,
+  Joy trembles in their bosom-strands
+  And lovely laughter leaps and falls
+  Upon their lips in madrigals.
+
+
+V
+
+THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL
+
+  _A naked house, a naked moor,
+  A shivering pool before the door,
+  A garden bare of flowers and fruit
+  And poplars at the garden foot:
+  Such is the place that I live in,
+  Bleak without and bare within._
+
+  Yet shall your ragged moor receive
+  The incomparable pomp of eve,
+  And the cold glories of the dawn
+  Behind your shivering trees be drawn;
+  And when the wind from place to place
+  Doth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase,
+  Your garden gloom and gleam again,
+  With leaping sun, with glancing rain.
+  Here shall the wizard moon ascend
+  The heavens, in the crimson end
+  Of day's declining splendour; here
+  The army of the stars appear.
+  The neighbour hollows, dry or wet,
+  Spring shall with tender flowers beset;
+  And oft the morning muser see
+  Larks rising from the broomy lea,
+  And every fairy wheel and thread
+  Of cobweb, dew-bediamonded.
+  When daisies go, shall winter-time
+  Silver the simple grass with rime;
+  Autumnal frosts enchant the pool
+  And make the cart-ruts beautiful;
+  And when snow-bright the moor expands,
+  How shall your children clap their hands!
+  To make this earth, our hermitage,
+  A cheerful and a changeful page,
+  God's bright and intricate device
+  Of days and seasons doth suffice.
+
+
+VI
+
+A VISIT FROM THE SEA
+
+  Far from the loud sea beaches
+    Where he goes fishing and crying,
+  Here in the inland garden
+    Why is the sea-gull flying?
+
+  Here are no fish to dive for;
+    Here is the corn and lea;
+  Here are the green trees rustling.
+    Hie away home to sea!
+
+  Fresh is the river water
+    And quiet among the rushes;
+  This is no home for the sea-gull,
+    But for the rooks and thrushes.
+
+  Pity the bird that has wandered!
+    Pity the sailor ashore!
+  Hurry him home to the ocean,
+    Let him come here no more!
+
+  High on the sea-cliff ledges
+    The white gulls are trooping and crying,
+  Here among rooks and roses,
+    Why is the sea-gull flying?
+
+
+VII
+
+TO A GARDENER
+
+  Friend, in my mountain-side demesne,
+  My plain-beholding, rosy, green
+  And linnet-haunted garden-ground,
+  Let still the esculents abound.
+  Let first the onion flourish there,
+  Rose among roots, the maiden-fair,
+  Wine-scented and poetic soul
+  Of the capacious salad-bowl.
+  Let thyme the mountaineer (to dress
+  The tinier birds) and wading cress,
+  The lover of the shallow brook,
+  From all my plots and borders look.
+  Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor
+  Pease-cods for the child's pinafore
+  Be lacking; nor of salad clan
+  The last and least that ever ran
+  About great nature's garden-beds.
+  Nor thence be missed the speary heads
+  Of artichoke; nor thence the bean
+  That gathered innocent and green
+  Outsavours the belauded pea.
+
+  These tend, I prithee; and for me,
+  Thy most long-suffering master, bring
+  In April, when the linnets sing
+  And the days lengthen more and more,
+  At sundown to the garden door.
+  And I, being provided thus,
+  Shall, with superb asparagus,
+  A book, a taper, and a cup
+  Of country wine, divinely sup.
+
+    LA SOLITUDE, HYERES.
+
+
+VIII
+
+TO MINNIE
+
+(WITH A HAND-GLASS)
+
+  A picture-frame for you to fill,
+    A paltry setting for your face,
+  A thing that has no worth until
+    You lend it something of your grace,
+
+  I send (unhappy I that sing
+    Laid by a while upon the shelf)
+  Because I would not send a thing
+    Less charming than you are yourself.
+
+  And happier than I, alas!
+    (Dumb thing, I envy its delight)
+  'Twill wish you well, the looking-glass,
+    And look you in the face to-night.
+
+    1869.
+
+
+IX
+
+TO K. DE M.
+
+  A lover of the moorland bare
+  And honest country winds you were;
+  The silver-skimming rain you took;
+  And love the floodings of the brook,
+  Dew, frost and mountains, fire and seas,
+  Tumultuary silences,
+  Winds that in darkness fifed a tune,
+  And the high-riding, virgin moon.
+
+  And as the berry, pale and sharp,
+  Springs on some ditch's counterscarp
+  In our ungenial, native north--
+  You put your frosted wildings forth,
+  And on the heath, afar from man,
+  A strong and bitter virgin ran.
+
+  The berry ripened keeps the rude
+  And racy flavour of the wood.
+  And you that loved the empty plain
+  All redolent of wind and rain,
+  Around you still the curlew sings--
+  The freshness of the weather clings--
+  The maiden jewels of the rain
+  Sit in your dabbled locks again.
+
+
+X
+
+TO N. V. DE G. S.
+
+  The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears,
+  The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings
+  Dispart us; and the river of events
+  Has, for an age of years, to east and west
+  More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me
+  Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn
+  Descry a land far off, and know not which.
+  So I approach uncertain; so I cruise
+  Round thy mysterious islet, and behold
+  Surf and great mountains and loud river-bars,
+  And from the shore hear inland voices call.
+  Strange is the seaman's heart; he hopes, he fears;
+  Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast;
+  Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep
+  His shattered prow uncomforted puts back.
+  Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm
+  Of that bright island; where he feared to touch,
+  His spirit re-adventures; and for years,
+  Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home,
+  Thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees
+  The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes
+  Yearning for that far home that might have been.
+
+
+XI
+
+TO WILL. H. LOW
+
+  Youth now flees on feathered foot,
+  Faint and fainter sounds the flute,
+  Rarer songs of gods; and still
+  Somewhere on the sunny hill,
+  Or along the winding stream,
+  Through the willows, flits a dream;
+  Flits but shows a smiling face,
+  Flees, but with so quaint a grace,
+  None can choose to stay at home,
+  All must follow, all must roam.
+
+  This is unborn beauty: she
+  Now in air floats high and free.
+  Takes the sun and makes the blue;--
+  Late with stooping pinion flew
+  Raking hedgerow trees, and wet
+  Her wing in silver streams, and set
+  Shining foot on temple roof:
+  Now again she flies aloof,
+  Coasting mountain clouds and kiss't
+  By the evening's amethyst.
+  In wet wood and miry lane,
+  Still we pant and pound in vain;
+  Still with leaden foot we chase
+  Waning pinion, fainting face;
+  Still with grey hair we stumble on,
+  Till, behold, the vision gone!
+  Where hath fleeting beauty led?
+  To the doorway of the dead.
+  Life is over, life was gay:
+  We have come the primrose way.
+
+
+XII
+
+TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW
+
+  Even in the bluest noonday of July,
+  There could not run the smallest breath of wind
+  But all the quarter sounded like a wood;
+  And in the chequered silence and above
+  The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois,
+  Suburban ashes shivered into song.
+  A patter and a chatter and a chirp
+  And a long dying hiss--it was as though
+  Starched old brocaded dames through all the house
+  Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky
+  Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain.
+  Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks
+  Of the near Autumn, how the smitten ash
+  Trembles and augurs floods! O not too long
+  In these inconstant latitudes delay,
+  O not too late from the unbeloved north
+  Trim your escape! For soon shall this low roof
+  Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your eyes
+  Search the foul garden, search the darkened rooms,
+  Nor find one jewel but the blazing log.
+
+    12 RUE VERNIER, PARIS.
+
+
+XIII
+
+TO H. F. BROWN
+
+(WRITTEN DURING A DANGEROUS SICKNESS)
+
+  I sit and wait a pair of oars
+  On cis-Elysian river-shores.
+  Where the immortal dead have sate,
+  'Tis mine to sit and meditate;
+  To re-ascend life's rivulet,
+  Without remorse, without regret;
+  And sing my _Alma Genetrix_
+  Among the willows of the Styx.
+
+  And lo, as my serener soul
+  Did these unhappy shores patrol,
+  And wait with an attentive ear
+  The coming of the gondolier,
+  Your fire-surviving roll I took,
+  Your spirited and happy book;[1]
+  Whereon, despite my frowning fate,
+  It did my soul so recreate
+  That all my fancies fled away
+  On a Venetian holiday.
+
+  Now, thanks to your triumphant care,
+  Your pages clear as April air,
+  The sails, the bells, the birds, I know,
+  And the far-off Friulan snow;
+  The land and sea, the sun and shade,
+  And the blue even lamp-inlaid.
+  For this, for these, for all, O friend,
+  For your whole book from end to end--
+  For Paron Piero's mutton-ham--
+  I your defaulting debtor am.
+
+  Perchance, reviving, yet may I
+  To your sea-paven city hie,
+  And in a _felze_ some day yet
+  Light at your pipe my cigarette.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+  [1] "Life on the Lagoons," by H. F. Brown, originally burned in the
+    fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.'s.
+
+
+XIV
+
+TO ANDREW LANG
+
+  Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair,
+  Who glory to have thrown in air,
+  High over arm, the trembling reed,
+  By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed:
+  An equal craft of hand you show
+  The pen to guide, the fly to throw:
+  I count you happy-starred; for God,
+  When He with inkpot and with rod
+  Endowed you, bade your fortune lead
+  For ever by the crooks of Tweed,
+  For ever by the woods of song
+  And lands that to the Muse belong;
+  Or if in peopled streets, or in
+  The abhorred pedantic sanhedrin,
+  It should be yours to wander, still
+  Airs of the morn, airs of the hill,
+  The plovery Forest and the seas
+  That break about the Hebrides,
+  Should follow over field and plain
+  And find you at the window-pane;
+  And you again see hill and peel,
+  And the bright springs gush at your heel.
+  So went the fiat forth, and so
+  Garrulous like a brook you go,
+  With sound of happy mirth and sheen
+  Of daylight--whether by the green
+  You fare that moment, or the grey;
+  Whether you dwell in March or May;
+  Or whether treat of reels and rods
+  Or of the old unhappy gods:
+  Still like a brook your page has shone,
+  And your ink sings of Helicon.
+
+
+XV
+
+ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI
+
+(TO R. A. M. S.)
+
+  In ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt;
+  There, from of old, thy childhood passed; and there
+  High expectation, high delights and deeds,
+  Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved.
+  And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast,
+  And Roland's horn, and that war-scattering shout
+  Of all-unarmed Achilles, aegis-crowned.
+  And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores
+  And seas and forests drear, island and dale
+  And mountain dark. For thou with Tristram rod'st
+  Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse.
+  Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat
+  Side-looking Magians trafficked; thence, by night,
+  An Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore
+  Beyond the Aral Mount; or, hoping gain,
+  Thou, with a jar of money, didst embark
+  For Balsorah by sea. But chiefly thou
+  In that clear air took'st life; in Arcady
+  The haunted, land of song; and by the wells
+  Where most the gods frequent. There Chiron old,
+  In the Pelethronian antre, taught thee lore;
+  The plants he taught, and by the shining stars
+  In forests dim to steer. There hast thou seen
+  Immortal Pan dance secret in a glade,
+  And, dancing, roll his eyes; these, where they fell,
+  Shed glee, and through the congregated oaks
+  A flying horror winged; while all the earth
+  To the god's pregnant footing thrilled within.
+  Or whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he breathed,
+  In his clutched pipe unformed and wizard strains
+  Divine yet brutal; which the forest heard,
+  And thou, with awe; and far upon the plain
+  The unthinking ploughman started and gave ear.
+
+  Now things there are that, upon him who sees,
+  A strong vocation lay; and strains there are
+  That whoso hears shall hear for evermore.
+  For evermore thou hear'st immortal Pan
+  And those melodious godheads, ever young
+  And ever quiring, on the mountains old.
+
+  What was this earth, child of the gods, to thee?
+  Forth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer, cam'st
+  And in thine ears the olden music rang,
+  And in thy mind the doings of the dead,
+  And those heroic ages long forgot.
+  To a so fallen earth, alas! too late,
+  Alas! in evil days, thy steps return,
+  To list at noon for nightingales, to grow
+  A dweller on the beach till Argo come
+  That came long since, a lingerer by the pool
+  Where that desired angel bathes no more.
+  As when the Indian to Dakota comes,
+  Or farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt,
+  He with his clan, a humming city finds;
+  Thereon a while, amazed, he stares, and then
+  To right and leftward, like a questing dog,
+  Seeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth
+  Long cold with rains, and where old terror lodged,
+  And where the dead: so thee undying Hope,
+  With all her pack, hunts screaming through the years:
+  Here, there, thou fleeest; but nor here nor there
+  The pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells.
+
+  That, that was not Apollo, not the god.
+  This was not Venus, though she Venus seemed
+  A moment. And though fair yon river move,
+  She, all the way, from disenchanted fount
+  To seas unhallowed runs; the gods forsook
+  Long since her trembling rushes; from her plains
+  Disconsolate, long since adventure fled;
+  And now although the inviting river flows,
+  And every poplared cape, and every bend
+  Or willowy islet, win upon thy soul
+  And to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed;
+  Yet hope not thou at all; hope is no more;
+  And O, long since the golden groves are dead
+  The faery cities vanished from the land!
+
+
+XVI
+
+TO W.E. HENLEY
+
+  The year runs through her phases; rain and sun,
+  Spring-time and summer pass; winter succeeds;
+  But one pale season rules the house of death.
+  Cold falls the imprisoned daylight; fell disease
+  By each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep
+  Toss gaping on the pillows.
+                                 But O thou!
+  Uprise and take thy pipe. Bid music flow,
+  Strains by good thoughts attended, like the spring
+  The swallows follow over land and sea.
+  Pain sleeps at once; at once, with open eyes,
+  Dozing despair awakes. The shepherd sees
+  His flock come bleating home; the seaman hears
+  Once more the cordage rattle. Airs of home!
+  Youth, love, and roses blossom; the gaunt ward
+  Dislimns and disappears, and, opening out,
+  Shows brooks and forests, and the blue beyond
+  Of mountains.
+                   Small the pipe; but O! do thou,
+  Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein
+  The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,
+  These dying, sound the triumph over death.
+  Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy
+  Unknown before, in dying; for each knows
+  A hero dies with him--though unfulfilled,
+  Yet conquering truly--and not dies in vain.
+
+  So is pain cheered, death comforted; the house
+  Of sorrow smiles to listen. Once again--
+  O thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard
+  And the deliverer, touch the stops again!
+
+
+XVII
+
+HENRY JAMES
+
+  Who comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain.
+  Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain
+  The presences that now together throng
+  Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song,
+  As with the air of life, the breath of talk?
+  Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk
+  Behind their jocund maker; and we see
+  Slighted _De Mauves_, and that far different she,
+  _Gressie_, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast
+  _Daisy_ and _Barb_ and _Chancellor_ (she not least!)
+  With all their silken, all their airy kin,
+  Do like unbidden angels enter in.
+  But he, attended by these shining names,
+  Comes (best of all) himself--our welcome James.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+THE MIRROR SPEAKS
+
+  Where the bells peal far at sea
+  Cunning fingers fashioned me.
+  There on palace walls I hung
+  While that Consuelo sung;
+  But I heard, though I listened well,
+  Never a note, never a trill,
+  Never a beat of the chiming bell.
+  There I hung and looked, and there
+  In my grey face, faces fair
+  Shone from under shining hair.
+  Well I saw the poising head,
+  But the lips moved and nothing said;
+  And when lights were in the hall,
+  Silent moved the dancers all.
+
+  So a while I glowed, and then
+  Fell on dusty days and men;
+  Long I slumbered packed in straw,
+  Long I none but dealers saw;
+  Till before my silent eye
+  One that sees came passing by.
+  Now with an outlandish grace,
+  To the sparkling fire I face
+  In the blue room at Skerryvore;
+  Where I wait until the door
+  Open, and the Prince of Men,
+  Henry James, shall come again.
+
+
+XIX
+
+KATHARINE
+
+  We see you as we see a face
+  That trembles in a forest place
+  Upon the mirror of a pool
+  For ever quiet, clear, and cool;
+  And, in the wayward glass, appears
+  To hover between smiles and tears,
+  Elfin and human, airy and true,
+  And backed by the reflected blue.
+
+
+XX
+
+TO F. J. S.
+
+  I read, dear friend, in your dear face
+  Your life's tale told with perfect grace;
+  The river of your life I trace
+  Up the sun-chequered, devious bed
+  To the far-distant fountain-head.
+
+  Not one quick beat of your warm heart,
+  Nor thought that came to you apart,
+  Pleasure nor pity, love nor pain
+  Nor sorrow, has gone by in vain;
+  But as some lone, wood-wandering child
+  Brings home with him at evening mild
+  The thorns and flowers of all the wild,
+  From your whole life, O fair and true,
+  Your flowers and thorns you bring with you!
+
+
+XXI
+
+REQUIEM
+
+  Under the wide and starry sky,
+  Dig the grave and let me lie.
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+    And I laid me down with a will.
+
+  This be the verse you grave for me:
+  _Here he lies where he longed to be;
+  Home is the sailor, home from sea,
+    And the hunter home from the hill._
+
+    HYERES, _May 1884_.
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE CELESTIAL SURGEON
+
+  If I have faltered more or less
+  In my great task of happiness;
+  If I have moved among my race
+  And shown no glorious morning face;
+  If beams from happy human eyes
+  Have moved me not; if morning skies,
+  Books, and my food, and summer rain
+  Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:--
+  Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take
+  And stab my spirit broad awake;
+  Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,
+  Choose Thou, before that spirit die,
+  A piercing pain, a killing sin,
+  And to my dead heart run them in!
+
+
+XXIII
+
+OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS
+
+  Out of the sun, out of the blast,
+  Out of the world, alone I passed
+  Across the moor and through the wood
+  To where the monastery stood.
+  There neither lute nor breathing fife,
+  Nor rumour of the world of life,
+  Nor confidences low and dear,
+  Shall strike the meditative ear.
+  Aloof, unhelpful, and unkind,
+  The prisoners of the iron mind,
+  Where nothing speaks except the bell,
+  The unfraternal brothers dwell.
+
+  Poor passionate men, still clothed afresh
+  With agonising folds of flesh;
+  Whom the clear eyes solicit still
+  To some bold output of the will,
+  While fairy Fancy far before
+  And musing Memory-Hold-the-door
+  Now to heroic death invite
+  And now uncurtain fresh delight:
+  O, little boots it thus to dwell
+  On the remote unneighboured hill!
+
+  O to be up and doing, O
+  Unfearing and unshamed to go
+  In all the uproar and the press
+  About my human business!
+  My undissuaded heart I hear
+  Whisper courage in my ear.
+  With voiceless calls, the ancient earth
+  Summons me to a daily birth.
+  Thou, O my love, ye, O my friends--
+  The gist of life, the end of ends--
+  To laugh, to love, to live, to die,
+  Ye call me by the ear and eye!
+
+  Forth from the casemate, on the plain
+  Where honour has the world to gain,
+  Pour forth and bravely do your part,
+  O knights of the unshielded heart!
+  Forth and for ever forward!--out
+  From prudent turret and redoubt,
+  And in the mellay charge amain,
+  To fall but yet to rise again!
+  Captive?  ah, still, to honour bright,
+  A captive soldier of the right!
+  Or free and fighting, good with ill?
+  Unconquering but unconquered still!
+
+  And ye, O brethren, what if God,
+  When from Heav'n's top He spies abroad,
+  And sees on this tormented stage
+  The noble war of mankind rage:
+  What if His vivifying eye,
+  O monks, should pass your corner by?
+  For still the Lord is Lord of might;
+  In deeds, in deeds, He takes delight;
+  The plough, the spear, the laden barks,
+  The field, the founded city, marks;
+  He marks the smiler of the streets,
+  The singer upon garden seats;
+
+  He sees the climber in the rocks:
+  To Him, the shepherd folds his flocks.
+  For those He loves that underprop
+  With daily virtues Heaven's top,
+  And bear the falling sky with ease,
+  Unfrowning caryatides.
+  Those He approves that ply the trade,
+  That rock the child, that wed the maid,
+  That with weak virtues, weaker hands,
+  Sow gladness on the peopled lands.
+  And still with laughter, song and shout,
+  Spin the great wheel of earth about.
+
+  But ye?--O ye who linger still
+  Here in your fortress on the hill,
+  With placid face, with tranquil breath,
+  The unsought volunteers of death,
+  Our cheerful General on high
+  With careless looks may pass you by.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Not yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert,
+  Where thou with grass, and rivers, and the breeze,
+  And the bright face of day, thy dalliance hadst;
+  Where to thine ear first sang the enraptured birds;
+  Where love and thou that lasting bargain made.
+  The ship rides trimmed, and from the eternal shore
+  Thou hearest airy voices; but not yet
+  Depart, my soul, not yet a while depart.
+
+  Freedom is far, rest far. Thou art with life
+  Too closely woven, nerve with nerve entwined;
+  Service still craving service, love for love,
+  Love for dear love, still suppliant with tears.
+  Alas, not yet thy human task is done!
+  A bond at birth is forged; a debt doth lie
+  Immortal on mortality. It grows--
+  By vast rebound it grows, unceasing growth;
+  Gift upon gift, alms upon alms, upreared,
+  From man, from God, from nature, till the soul
+  At that so huge indulgence stands amazed.
+
+  Leave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor leave
+  Thy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert
+  Without due service rendered. For thy life,
+  Up, spirit, and defend that fort of clay,
+  Thy body, now beleaguered; whether soon
+  Or late she fall; whether to-day thy friends
+  Bewail thee dead, or, after years, a man
+  Grown old in honour and the friend of peace.
+  Contend, my soul, for moments and for hours;
+  Each is with service pregnant; each reclaimed
+  Is as a kingdom conquered, where to reign.
+
+  As when a captain rallies to the fight
+  His scattered legions, and beats ruin back,
+  He, on the field, encamps, well pleased in mind.
+  Yet surely him shall fortune overtake,
+  Him smite in turn, headlong his ensigns drive;
+  And that dear land, now safe, to-morrow fall.
+  But he, unthinking, in the present good
+  Solely delights, and all the camps rejoice.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  It is not yours, O mother, to complain,
+  Not, mother, yours to weep,
+  Though nevermore your son again
+  Shall to your bosom creep,
+  Though nevermore again you watch your baby sleep.
+
+  Though in the greener paths of earth,
+  Mother and child, no more
+  We wander; and no more the birth
+  Of me whom once you bore
+  Seems still the brave reward that once it seemed of yore;
+
+  Though as all passes, day and night,
+  The seasons and the years,
+  From you, O mother, this delight,
+  This also disappears--
+  Some profit yet survives of all your pangs and tears.
+
+  The child, the seed, the grain of corn,
+  The acorn on the hill,
+  Each for some separate end is born
+  In season fit, and still
+  Each must in strength arise to work the almighty will.
+
+  So from the hearth the children flee,
+  By that almighty hand
+  Austerely led; so one by sea
+  Goes forth, and one by land;
+  Nor aught of all man's sons escapes from that command.
+
+  So from the sally each obeys
+  The unseen almighty nod;
+  So till the ending all their ways
+  Blindfolded loth have trod:
+  Nor knew their task at all, but were the tools of God.
+
+  And as the fervent smith of yore
+  Beat out the glowing blade,
+  Nor wielded in the front of war
+  The weapons that he made,
+  But in the tower at home still plied his ringing trade;
+
+  So like a sword the son shall roam
+  On nobler missions sent;
+  And as the smith remained at home
+  In peaceful turret pent,
+  So sits the while at home the mother well content.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+THE SICK CHILD
+
+    CHILD
+
+  O Mother, lay your hand on my brow!
+  O mother, mother, where am I now?
+  Why is the room so gaunt and great?
+  Why am I lying awake so late?
+
+    MOTHER
+
+  Fear not at all: the night is still.
+  Nothing is here that means you ill--
+  Nothing but lamps the whole town through,
+  And never a child awake but you.
+
+    CHILD
+
+  Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,
+  Some of the things are so great and near,
+  Some are so small and far away,
+  I have a fear that I cannot say.
+  What have I done, and what do I fear,
+  And why are you crying, mother dear?
+
+    MOTHER
+
+  Out in the city, sounds begin,
+  Thank the kind God, the carts come in!
+  An hour or two more, and God is so kind,
+  The day shall be blue in the window-blind,
+  Then shall my child go sweetly asleep,
+  And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+IN MEMORIAM F.A.S.
+
+  Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
+    How of human days he lived the better part.
+  April came to bloom and never dim December
+    Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.
+
+  Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being
+    Trod the flowery April blithely for a while,
+  Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing,
+    Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.
+
+  Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished,
+    You alone have crossed the melancholy stream,
+  Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished
+    Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.
+
+  All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
+    Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a name.
+  Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season,
+    And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came.
+
+    DAVOS, 1881.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+TO MY FATHER
+
+  Peace and her huge invasion to these shores
+  Puts daily home; innumerable sails
+  Dawn on the far horizon and draw near;
+  Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes
+  To our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach:
+  Not now obscure, since thou and thine are there,
+  And bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef,
+  The long, resounding foreland, Pharos stands.
+
+  These are thy works, O father, these thy crown;
+  Whether on high the air be pure, they shine
+  Along the yellowing sunset, and all night
+  Among the unnumbered stars of God they shine;
+  Or whether fogs arise and far and wide
+  The low sea-level drown--each finds a tongue
+  And all night long the tolling bell resounds:
+  So shine, so toll, till night be overpast,
+  Till the stars vanish, till the sun return,
+  And in the haven rides the fleet secure.
+
+  In the first hour, the seaman in his skiff
+  Moves through the unmoving bay, to where the town
+  Its earliest smoke into the air upbreathes,
+  And the rough hazels climb along the beach.
+  To the tugged oar the distant echo speaks.
+  The ship lies resting, where by reef and roost
+  Thou and thy lights have led her like a child.
+
+  This hast thou done, and I--can I be base?
+  I must arise, O father, and to port
+  Some lost, complaining seaman pilot home.
+
+
+XXIX
+
+IN THE STATES
+
+  With half a heart I wander here
+    As from an age gone by
+  A brother--yet though young in years,
+    An elder brother, I.
+
+  You speak another tongue than mine,
+    Though both were English born.
+  I towards the night of time decline
+    You mount into the morn.
+
+  Youth shall grow great and strong and free,
+    But age must still decay:
+  To-morrow for the States,--for me,
+    England and Yesterday.
+
+    SAN FRANCISCO.
+
+
+XXX
+
+A PORTRAIT
+
+  I am a kind of farthing dip,
+    Unfriendly to the nose and eyes;
+  A blue-behinded ape, I skip
+    Upon the trees of Paradise.
+
+  At mankind's feast, I take my place
+    In solemn, sanctimonious state,
+  And have the air of saying grace
+    While I defile the dinner-plate.
+
+  I am "the smiler with the knife,"
+    The battener upon garbage, I--
+  Dear Heaven, with such a rancid life
+    Were it not better far to die?
+
+  Yet still, about the human pale,
+    I love to scamper, love to race,
+  To swing by my irreverent tail
+    All over the most holy place;
+
+  And when at length, some golden day,
+    The unfailing sportsman, aiming at,
+  Shall bag, me--all the world shall say:
+    _Thank God, and there's an end of that!_
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still,
+  Sing truer or no longer sing!
+  No more the voice of melancholy Jaques
+  To wake a weeping echo in the hill;
+  But as the boy, the pirate of the spring,
+  From the green elm a living linnet takes,
+  One natural verse recapture--then be still.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+A CAMP[1]
+
+  The bed was made, the room was fit,
+  By punctual eve the stars were lit;
+  The air was still, the water ran,
+  No need was there for maid or man,
+  When we put up, my ass and I,
+  At God's green caravanserai.
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS[1]
+
+  We travelled in the print of olden wars;
+        Yet all the land was green;
+        And love we found, and peace,
+        Where fire and war had been.
+
+  They pass and smile, the children of the sword--
+        No more the sword they wield;
+        And O, how deep the corn
+        Along the battlefield!
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+  [1] From "Travels with a Donkey."
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+SKERRYVORE
+
+  For love of lovely words, and for the sake
+  Of those, my kinsmen and my countrymen,
+  Who early and late in the windy ocean toiled
+  To plant a star for seamen, where was then
+  The surfy haunt of seals and cormorants:
+  I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe
+  The name of a strong tower.
+
+
+XXXV
+
+SKERRYVORE
+
+THE PARALLEL
+
+  Here all is sunny, and when the truant gull
+  Skims the green level of the lawn, his wing
+  Dispetals roses; here the house is framed
+  Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain pine,
+  Such clay as artists fashion and such wood
+  As the tree-climbing urchin breaks. But there
+  Eternal granite hewn from the living isle
+  And dowelled with brute iron, rears a tower
+  That from its wet foundation to its crown
+  Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep of winds,
+  Immovable, immortal, eminent.
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+  _My house_, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
+  That make my roof the arena of their loves,
+  That gyre about the gable all day long
+  And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:
+  _Our house_, they say; and _mine_, the cat declares
+  And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;
+  And _mine_ the dog, and rises stiff with wrath
+  If any alien foot profane the path.
+  So too the buck that trimmed my terraces,
+  Our whilome gardener, called the garden his;
+  Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode
+  And his late kingdom, only from the road.
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+  My body which my dungeon is,
+  And yet my parks and palaces:--
+    Which is so great that there I go
+  All the day long to and fro,
+  And when the night begins to fall
+  Throw down my bed and sleep, while all
+  The building hums with wakefulness--
+  Even as a child of savages
+  When evening takes her on her way
+  (She having roamed a summer's day
+  Along the mountain-sides and scalp),
+  Sleeps in an antre of that alp:--
+    Which is so broad and high that there,
+  As in the topless fields of air,
+  My fancy soars like to a kite
+  And faints in the blue infinite:--
+    Which is so strong, my strongest throes
+  And the rough world's besieging blows
+  Not break it, and so weak withal,
+  Death ebbs and flows in its loose wall
+  As the green sea in fishers' nets,
+  And tops its topmost parapets:--
+    Which is so wholly mine that I
+  Can wield its whole artillery,
+  And mine so little, that my soul
+  Dwells in perpetual control,
+  And I but think and speak and do
+  As my dead fathers move me to:--
+    If this born body of my bones
+  The beggared soul so barely owns,
+  What money passed from hand to hand,
+  What creeping custom of the land,
+  What deed of author or assign,
+  Can make a house a thing of mine?
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+  Say not of me that weakly I declined
+  The labours of my sires, and fled the sea,
+  The towers we founded and the lamps we lit,
+  To play at home with paper like a child.
+  But rather say: _In the afternoon of time
+  A strenuous family dusted from its hands
+  The sand of granite, and beholding far
+  Along the sounding coast its pyramids
+  And tall memorials catch the dying sun,
+  Smiled well content, and to this childish task
+  Around the fire addressed its evening hours._
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+IN SCOTS
+
+
+NOTE TO BOOK II
+
+The human conscience has fled of late the troublesome domain of conduct
+for what I should have supposed to be the less congenial field of art:
+there she may now be said to rage, and with special severity in all that
+touches dialect: so that in every novel the letters of the alphabet are
+tortured, and the reader wearied, to commemorate shades of
+mispronunciation. Now, spelling is an art of great difficulty in my
+eyes, and I am inclined to lean upon the printer, even in common
+practice, rather than to venture abroad upon new quests. And the Scots
+tongue has an orthography of its own, lacking neither "authority nor
+author." Yet the temptation is great to lend a little guidance to the
+bewildered Englishman. Some simple phonetic artifice might defend your
+verses from barbarous mishandling, and yet not injure any vested
+interest. So it seems at first; but there are rocks ahead. Thus, if I
+wish the diphthong _ou_ to have its proper value, I may write _oor_
+instead of _our_; many have done so and lived, and the pillars of the
+universe remained unshaken. But if I did so, and came presently to
+_doun_, which is the classical Scots spelling of the English _down_, I
+should begin to feel uneasy; and if I went on a little further, and came
+to a classical Scots word, like _stour_ or _dour_ or _clour_, I should
+know precisely where I was--that is to say, that I was out of sight of
+land on those high seas of spelling reform in which so many strong
+swimmers have toiled vainly. To some the situation is exhilarating; as
+for me, I give one bubbling cry and sink. The compromise at which I have
+arrived is indefensible, and I have no thought of trying to defend it.
+As I have stuck for the most part to the proper spelling, I append a
+table of some common vowel sounds which no one need consult; and just to
+prove that I belong to my age and have in me the stuff of a reformer, I
+have used modification marks throughout. Thus I can tell myself, not
+without pride, that I have added a fresh stumbling-block for English
+readers, and to a page of print in my native tongue have lent a new
+uncouthness. _Sed non nobis._
+
+I note again, that among our new dialecticians, the local habitat of
+every dialect is given to the square mile. I could not emulate this
+nicety if I desired; for I simply wrote my Scots as well as I was able,
+not caring if it hailed from Lauderdale or Angus, from the Mearns or
+Galloway; if I had ever heard a good word, I used it without shame; and
+when Scots was lacking, or the rhyme jibbed, I was glad (like my
+betters) to fall back on English. For all that, I own to a friendly
+feeling for the tongue of Fergusson and of Sir Walter, both Edinburgh
+men; and I confess that Burns has always sounded in my ear like
+something partly foreign. And indeed I am from the Lothians myself; it
+is there I heard the language spoken about my childhood; and it is in
+the drawling Lothian voice that I repeat it to myself. Let the
+precisians call my speech that of the Lothians. And if it be not pure,
+alas! what matters it? The day draws near when this illustrious and
+malleable tongue shall be quite forgotten; and Burns's Ayrshire, and Dr.
+MacDonald's Aberdeen-awa', and Scott's brave, metropolitan utterance
+will be all equally the ghosts of speech. Till then I would love to have
+my hour as a native Maker, and be read by my own countryfolk in our own
+dying language; an ambition surely rather of the heart than of the head,
+so restricted as it is in prospect of endurance, so parochial in bounds
+of space.
+
+
+TABLE OF COMMON SCOTTISH VOWEL SOUNDS
+
+  ae }
+  ai } = open A _as in_ rare.
+
+  a' }
+  au } = AW _as in_ law.
+  aw }
+
+  ea = open E _as in_ mere, but this with exceptions, as heather =
+         heather, wean = wain, lear = lair.
+
+  ee }
+  ei } = open E _as in_ mere.
+  ie }
+
+  oa = open O _as in_ more.
+
+  ou = doubled O _as in_ poor.
+
+  ow = OW _as in_ bower.
+
+  u  = doubled O _as in_ poor.
+
+  ui _or_ ue before R = (say roughly) open A _as in_ rare.
+
+  ui _or_ ue before any other consonant = (say roughly) close I _as in_
+              grin.
+
+  y  = open I _as in_ kite.
+
+  i  = pretty nearly what you please, much as in English, Heaven guide the
+         reader through that labyrinth! But in Scots it dodges usually
+         from the short I, _as in_ grin, to the open E _as in_ mere. Find
+         and blind, I may remark, are pronounced to rhyme with the
+         preterite of grin.
+
+
+I
+
+THE MAKER TO POSTERITY
+
+  Far 'yont amang the years to be,
+  When a' we think, an' a' we see,
+  An' a' we luve, 's been dung ajee
+          By time's rouch shouther,
+  An' what was richt and wrang for me
+          Lies mangled throu'ther,
+
+  It's possible--it's hardly mair--
+  That some ane, ripin' after lear--
+  Some auld professor or young heir,
+          If still there's either--
+  May find an' read me, an' be sair
+          Perplexed, puir brither!
+
+  "_What tongue does your auld bookie speak?_"
+  He'll speir; an' I, his mou' to steik:
+  "_No' bein' fit to write in Greek,
+          I wrote in Lallan,
+  Dear to my heart as the peat-reek,
+          Auld as Tantallon._
+
+  "_Few spak it than, an' noo there's nane.
+  My puir auld sangs lie a' their lane,
+  Their sense, that aince was braw an' plain,
+          Tint a'thegither,
+  Like runes upon a standin' stane
+          Amang the heather._
+
+  "_But think not you the brae to speel;
+  You, tae, maun chow the bitter peel;
+  For a' your lear, for a' your skeel,
+          Ye're nane sae lucky;
+  An' things are mebbe waur than weel
+          For you, my buckie._
+
+  "_The hale concern (baith hens an' eggs,
+  Baith books an' writers, stars an' clegs)
+  Noo stachers upon lowsent legs
+          An' wears awa';
+  The tack o' mankind, near the dregs,
+          Rins unco law._
+
+  "_Your book, that in some braw new tongue
+  Ye wrote or prentit, preached or sung,
+  Will still be just a bairn, an' young
+          In fame an' years,
+  Whan the hale planet's guts are dung
+          About your ears;_
+
+  "_An' you, sair gruppin' to a spar
+  Or whammled wi' some bleezin' star,
+  Cryin' to ken whaur deil ye are,
+          Hame, France, or Flanders--
+  Whang sindry like a railway car
+          An' flie in danders._"
+
+
+II
+
+ILLE TERRARUM
+
+  Frae nirly, nippin', Eas'lan' breeze,
+  Frae Norlan' snaw, an' haar o' seas,
+  Weel happit in your gairden trees,
+          A bonny bit,
+  Atween the muckle Pentland's knees,
+          Secure ye sit.
+
+  Beeches an' aiks entwine their theek,
+  An' firs, a stench, auld-farrant clique.
+  A simmer day, your chimleys reek,
+          Couthy and bien;
+  An' here an' there your windies keek
+          Amang the green.
+
+  A pickle plats an' paths an' posies,
+  A wheen auld gillyflowers an' roses:
+  A ring o' wa's the hale encloses
+          Frae sheep or men:
+  An' there the auld housie beeks an' dozes,
+          A' by her lane.
+
+  The gairdner crooks his weary back
+  A' day in the pitaty-track,
+  Or mebbe stops a while to crack
+          Wi' Jane the cook,
+  Or at some buss, worm-eaten-black,
+          To gie a look.
+
+  Frae the high hills the curlew ca's;
+  The sheep gang baaing by the wa's;
+  Or whiles a clan o' roosty craws
+          Cangle thegither;
+  The wild bees seek the gairden raws,
+          Weariet wi' heather.
+
+  Or in the gloamin' douce an' grey
+  The sweet-throat mavis tunes her lay;
+  The herd comes linkin' doun the brae;
+          An' by degrees
+  The muckle siller muene maks way
+          Amang the trees.
+
+  Here aft hae I, wi' sober heart,
+  For meditation sat apairt,
+  When orra loves or kittle art
+          Perplexed my mind;
+  Here socht a balm for ilka smart
+          O' humankind.
+
+  Here aft, weel neukit by my lane,
+  Wi' Horace, or perhaps Montaigne,
+  The mornin' hours hae come an' gane
+          Abuene my heid--
+  I wadna gi'en a chucky-stane
+          For a' I'd read.
+
+  But noo the auld city, street by street,
+  An' winter fu' o' snaw an' sleet,
+  A while shut in my gangrel feet
+          An' goavin' mettle;
+  Noo is the soopit ingle sweet,
+          An' liltin' kettle.
+
+  An' noo the winter winds complain;
+  Cauld lies the glaur in ilka lane;
+  On draigled hizzie, tautit wean
+          An' drucken lads,
+  In the mirk nicht, the winter rain
+          Dribbles an' blads.
+
+  Whan bugles frae the Castle rock,
+  An' beaten drums wi' dowie shock,
+  Wauken, at cauld-rife sax o'clock,
+          My chitterin' frame,
+  I mind me on the kintry cock,
+          The kintry hame.
+
+  I mind me on yon bonny bield;
+  An' Fancy traivels far afield
+  To gaither a' that gairdens yield
+          O' sun an' Simmer:
+  To hearten up a dowie chield,
+          Fancy's the limmer!
+
+
+III
+
+  When aince Aprile has fairly come,
+  An' birds may bigg in winter's lum,
+  An' pleesure's spreid for a' and some
+          O' whatna state,
+  Love, wi' her auld recruitin' drum,
+          Than taks the gate.
+
+  The heart plays dunt wi' main an' micht;
+  The lasses' een are a' sae bricht,
+  Their dresses are sae braw an' ticht,
+          The bonny birdies!--
+  Puir winter virtue at the sicht
+          Gangs heels ower hurdies.
+
+  An' aye as love frae land to land
+  Tirls the drum wi' eident hand,
+  A' men collect at her command,
+          Toun-bred or land'art,
+  An' follow in a denty band
+          Her gaucy standart.
+
+  An' I, wha sang o' rain an' snaw,
+  An' weary winter weel awa',
+  Noo busk me in a jacket braw,
+          An' tak my place
+  I' the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw,
+          Wi' smilin' face.
+
+
+IV
+
+A MILE AN' A BITTOCK
+
+  A mile an' a bittock, a mile or twa,
+  Abuene the burn, ayont the law,
+  Davie an' Donal' an' Cherlie an' a',
+      An' the muene was shinin' clearly!
+
+  Ane went hame wi' the ither, an' then
+  The ither went hame wi' the ither twa men,
+  An' baith wad return him the service again,
+      An' the muene was shinin' clearly!
+
+  The clocks were chappin' in house an' ha',
+  Eleeven, twal an' ane an' twa;
+  An' the guidman's face was turnt to the wa'
+      An' the muene was shinin' clearly!
+
+  A wind got up frae affa the sea,
+  It blew the stars as clear's could be,
+  It blew in the een of a' o' the three,
+      An' the muene was shinin' clearly!
+
+  Noo, Davie was first to get sleep in his head,
+  "The best o' frien's maun twine," he said;
+  "I'm weariet, an' here I'm awa' to my bed."
+      An' the muene was shinin' clearly!
+
+  Twa o' them walkin' an' crackin' their lane,
+  The mornin' licht cam grey an' plain,
+  An' the birds they yammert on stick an' stane,
+      An' the muene was shinin' clearly!
+
+  O years ayont, O years awa',
+  My lads, ye'll mind whate'er befa'--
+  My lads, ye'll mind on the bield o' the law,
+      When the muene was shinin' clearly.
+
+
+V
+
+A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN
+
+  The clinkum-clank o' Sabbath bells
+  Noo to the hoastin' rookery swells,
+  Noo faintin' laigh in shady dells,
+        Sounds far an' near,
+  An' through the simmer kintry tells
+        Its tale o' cheer.
+
+  An' noo, to that melodious play,
+  A' deidly awn the quiet sway--
+  A' ken their solemn holiday,
+        Bestial an' human,
+  The singin' lintie on the brae,
+        The restin' plou'man.
+
+  He, mair than a' the lave o' men,
+  His week completit joys to ken;
+  Half-dressed, he daunders out an' in,
+        Perplext wi' leisure;
+  An' his raxt limbs he'll rax again
+        Wi' painfue' pleesure.
+
+  The steerin' mither strang afit
+  Noo shoos the bairnies but a bit;
+  Noo cries them ben, their Sinday shueit
+        To scart upon them,
+  Or sweeties in their pooch to pit,
+        Wi' blessin's on them.
+
+  The lasses, clean frae tap to taes,
+  Are busked in crunklin' underclaes;
+  The gartened hose, the weel-fllled stays,
+        The nakit shift,
+  A' bleached on bonny greens for days,
+        An' white's the drift.
+
+  An' noo to face the kirkward mile:
+  The guidman's hat o' dacent style,
+  The blackit shoon we noo maun fyle
+        As white's the miller:
+  A waefue' peety tae, to spile
+        The warth o' siller.
+
+  Our Marg'et, aye sae keen to crack,
+  Douce-stappin' in the stoury track,
+  Her emeralt goun a' kiltit back
+        Frae snawy coats,
+  White-ankled, leads the kirkward pack
+        Wi' Dauvit Groats.
+
+  A thocht ahint, in runkled breeks,
+  A' spiled wi' lyin' by for weeks,
+  The guidman follows closs, an' cleiks
+        The sonsie missis;
+  His sarious face at aince bespeaks
+        The day that this is.
+
+  And aye an' while we nearer draw
+  To whaur the kirkton lies alaw,
+  Mair neebours, comin' saft an' slaw
+        Frae here an' there,
+  The thicker thrang the gate an' caw
+        The stour in air.
+
+  But hark! the bells frae nearer clang;
+  To rowst the slaw their sides they bang;
+  An' see! black coats a'ready thrang
+        The green kirkyaird;
+  And at the yett, the chestnuts spang
+        That brocht the laird.
+
+  The solemn elders at the plate
+  Stand drinkin' deep the pride o' state:
+  The practised hands as gash an' great
+        As Lords o' Session;
+  The later named, a wee thing blate
+        In their expression.
+
+  The prentit stanes that mark the deid,
+  Wi' lengthened lip, the sarious read;
+  Syne wag a moraleesin' heid,
+        An' then an' there
+  Their hirplin' practice an' their creed
+        Try hard to square.
+
+  It's here our Merren lang has lain,
+  A wee bewast the table-stane;
+  An' yon's the grave o' Sandy Blane;
+        An' further ower,
+  The mither's brithers, dacent men!
+        Lie a' the fower.
+
+  Here the guidman sall bide awee
+  To dwall amang the deid; to see
+  Auld faces clear in fancy's e'e;
+        Belike to hear
+  Auld voices fa'in' saft an' slee
+        On fancy's ear.
+
+  Thus, on the day o' solemn things,
+  The bell that in the steeple swings
+  To fauld a scaittered faim'ly rings
+        Its walcome screed;
+  An' just a wee thing nearer brings
+        The quick an' deid.
+
+  But noo the bell is ringin' in;
+  To tak their places, folk begin;
+  The minister himsel' will shuene
+        Be up the gate,
+  Filled fu' wi' clavers about sin
+        An' man's estate.
+
+  The tuenes are up--_French_, to be shuere,
+  The faithfue' _French_, an' twa-three mair;
+  The auld prezentor, hoastin' sair,
+        Wales out the portions,
+  An' yirks the tuene into the air
+        Wi' queer contortions.
+
+  Follows the prayer, the readin' next,
+  An' than the fisslin' for the text--
+  The twa-three last to find it, vext
+        But kind o' proud;
+  An' than the peppermints are raxed,
+        An' southernwood.
+
+  For noo's the time whan pows are seen
+  Nid-noddin' like a mandareen;
+  When tenty mithers stap a preen
+        In sleepin' weans;
+  An' nearly half the parochine
+        Forget their pains.
+
+  There's just a waukrif twa or three:
+  Thrawn commentautors sweer to 'gree,
+  Weans glowrin' at the bumlin' bee
+        On windie-glasses,
+  Or lads that tak a keek a-glee
+        At sonsie lasses.
+
+  Himsel', meanwhile, frae whaur he cocks
+  An' bobs belaw the soundin'-box,
+  The treasures of his words unlocks
+        Wi' prodigality,
+  An' deals some unco dingin' knocks
+        To infidality.
+
+  Wi' sappy unction, hoo he burkes
+  The hopes o' men that trust in works,
+  Expounds the fau'ts o' ither kirks,
+        An' shaws the best o' them
+  No' muckle better than mere Turks,
+        When a's confessed o' them.
+
+  Bethankit! what a bonny creed!
+  What mair would ony Christian need?--
+  The braw words rummle ower his heid,
+        Nor steer the sleeper;
+  An' in their restin' graves, the deid
+        Sleep aye the deeper.
+
+
+ NOTE.--It may be guessed by some that I had a certain parish in my
+eye, and this makes it proper I should add a word of disclamation. In my
+time there have been two ministers in that parish. Of the first I have a
+special reason to speak well, even had there been any to think ill. The
+second I have often met in private and long (in the due phrase) "sat
+under" in his church, and neither here nor there have I heard an unkind
+or ugly word upon his lips. The preacher of the text had thus no
+original in that particular parish; but when I was a boy, he might have
+been observed in many others; he was then (like the schoolmaster)
+abroad; and by recent advices, it would seem he has not yet entirely
+disappeared.--[R. L. S.]
+
+
+VI
+
+THE SPAEWIFE
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
+  An' siller, that's sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi'e.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Hoo a' things come to be whaur we find them when we try.
+  The lassies in their claes an' the fishes in the sea.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O' I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Why lads are a' to sell an' lasses a' to buy;
+  An' naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  Gin death's as shuere to men as killin' is to kye,
+  Why God has filled the yearth sae fu' o' tasty things to pree.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+  O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I--
+  The reason o' the cause an' the wherefore o' the why,
+  Wi' mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e'e.
+  --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me.
+
+
+VII
+
+THE BLAST--1875
+
+  It's rainin'. Weet's the gairden sod,
+  Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod--
+  A maist unceevil thing o' God
+        In mid July--
+  If ye'll just curse the sneckdraw, dod!
+        An' sae wull I!
+
+  He's a braw place in Heev'n, ye ken,
+  An' lea's us puir, forjaskit men
+  Clamjamfried in the but and ben
+        He ca's the earth--
+  A wee bit inconvenient den
+        No muckle worth;
+
+  An' whiles, at orra times, keeks out,
+  Sees what puir mankind are about;
+  An' if He can, I've little doubt,
+        Upsets their plans;
+  He hates a' mankind, brainch and root,
+        An' a' that's man's.
+
+  An' whiles, whan they tak' heart again,
+  An' life i' the sun looks braw an' plain,
+  Doun comes a jaw o' droukin' rain
+        Upon their honours--
+  God sends a spate out ower the plain,
+        Or mebbe thun'ers.
+
+  Lord safe us, life's an unco thing!
+  Simmer and Winter, Yule an' Spring,
+  The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring
+        A feck o' trouble.
+  I wadna try 't to be a king--
+        No, nor for double.
+
+  But since we're in it, willy-nilly,
+  We maun be watchfue', wise an' skilly,
+  An' no' mind ony ither billy,
+        Lassie nor God.
+  But drink--that's my best counsel till 'e;
+        Sae tak' the nod.
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE COUNTERBLAST--1886
+
+  My bonny man, the warld, it's true,
+  Was made for neither me nor you;
+  It's just a place to warstle through,
+        As Job confessed o't;
+  And aye the best that we'll can do
+        Is mak' the best o't.
+
+  There's rowth o' wrang, I'm free to say:
+  The simmer brunt, the winter blae,
+  The face of earth a' fyled wi' clay
+        An' dour wi' chuckies,
+  An' life a rough an' land'art play
+        For country buckies.
+
+  An' food's anither name for clart;
+  An' beasts an' brambles bite an' scart;
+  An' what would WE be like, my heart!
+        If bared o' claethin'?
+  --Aweel, I canna mend your cart:
+        It's that or naethin'.
+
+  A feck o' folk frae first to last
+  Have through this queer experience passed;
+  Twa-three, I ken, just damn an' blast
+        The hale transaction;
+  But twa-three ithers, east an' wast,
+        Fand satisfaction.
+
+  Whaur braid the briery muirs expand,
+  A waefue' an' a weary land,
+  The bumble-bees, a gowden band,
+        Are blithely hingin';
+  An' there the canty wanderer fand
+        The laverock singin'.
+
+  Trout in the burn grow great as herr'n';
+  The simple sheep can find their fair'n';
+  The winds blaws clean about the cairn
+        Wi' caller air;
+  The muircock an' the barefit bairn
+        Are happy there.
+
+  Sic-like the howes o' life to some:
+  Green loans whaur they ne'er fash their thumb,
+  But mark the muckle winds that come,
+        Soopin' an' cool,
+  Or hear the powrin' burnie drum
+        In the shilfa's pool.
+
+  The evil wi' the guid they tak';
+  They ca' a grey thing grey, no' black;
+  To a steigh brae a stubborn back
+        Addressin' daily;
+  An' up the rude, unbieldy track
+        O' life, gang gaily.
+
+  What you would like's a palace ha',
+  Or Sinday parlour dink an' braw
+  Wi' a' things ordered in a raw
+        By denty leddies.
+  Weel, then, ye canna hae't: that's a'
+        That to be said is.
+
+  An' since at life ye've ta'en the grue,
+  An' winna blithely hirsle through,
+  Ye've fund the very thing to do--
+        That's to drink speerit;
+  An' shuene we'll hear the last o' you--
+        An' blithe to hear it!
+
+  The shoon ye coft, the life ye lead,
+  Ithers will heir when aince ye're deid;
+  They'll heir your tasteless bite o' breid,
+        An' find it sappy;
+  They'll to your dulefue' house succeed,
+        An' there be happy.
+
+  As whan a glum an' fractious wean
+  Has sat an' sullened by his lane
+  Till, wi' a rowstin' skelp, he's ta'en
+        An' shoo'd to bed----
+  The ither bairns a' fa' to play'n',
+        As gleg's a gled.
+
+
+IX
+
+THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL
+
+  It's strange that God should fash to frame
+      The yearth and lift sae hie,
+  An' clean forget to explain the same
+      To a gentleman like me.
+
+  Thae gusty, donnered ither folk,
+      Their weird they weel may dree;
+  But why present a pig in a poke
+      To a gentleman like me?
+
+  Thae ither folk their parritch eat
+      An' sup their sugared tea;
+  But the mind is no' to be wyled wi' meat
+      Wi' a gentleman like me.
+
+  Thae ither folk, they court their joes
+      At gloamin' on the lea;
+  But they're made of a commoner clay, I suppose,
+      Than a gentleman like me.
+
+  Thae ither folk, for richt or wrang,
+      They suffer, bleed, or dee;
+  But a' thir things are an emp'y sang
+      To a gentleman like me.
+
+  It's a different thing that I demand,
+      Tho' humble as can be--
+  A statement fair in my Maker's hand
+      To a gentleman like me:
+
+  A clear account writ fair an' broad,
+      An' a plain apologie;
+  Or the deevil a ceevil word to God
+      From a gentleman like me.
+
+
+X
+
+THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB
+
+  Dear Thamson class, whaure'er I gang
+  It aye comes ower me wi' a spang:
+  "_Lordsake! thae Thamson lads--(deil hang
+        Or else Lord mend them!)--
+  An' that wanchancy annual sang
+        I ne'er can send them!_"
+
+  Straucht, at the name, a trusty tyke,
+  My conscience girrs ahint the dyke;
+  Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke
+        To find a rhyme t' ye;
+  Pleased--although mebbe no' pleased-like--
+        To gie my time t' ye.
+
+  "_Weel_," an' says you, wi' heavin' breist,
+  "_Sae far, sae guid, but what's the neist?
+  Yearly we gather to the feast,
+        A' hopefue' men--
+  Yearly we skelloch 'Hang the beast--
+        Nae sang again!'_"
+
+  My lads, an' what am I to say?
+  Ye shuerely ken the Muse's way:
+  Yestreen, as gleg's a tyke--the day,
+        Thrawn like a cuddy:
+  Her conduc', that to her's a play,
+        Deith to a body.
+
+  Aft whan I sat an' made my mane,
+  Aft whan I laboured burd-alane
+  Fishin' for rhymes an' findin' nane,
+        Or nane were fit for ye--
+  Ye judged me cauld's a chucky-stane--
+        No car'n' a bit for ye!
+
+  But saw ye ne'er some pingein' bairn
+  As weak as a pitaty-par'n'--
+  Less uesed wi' guidin' horse-shoe aim
+        Than steerin' crowdie--
+  Packed aff his lane, by moss an' cairn,
+        To ca' the howdie.
+
+  Wae's me, for the puir callant than!
+  He wambles like a poke o' bran,
+  An' the lowse rein, as hard's he can,
+        Pu's, trem'lin' handit;
+  Till, blaff! upon his hinderlan'
+        Behauld him landit.
+
+  Sic-like--I awn the weary fac'--
+  Whan on my muse the gate I tak',
+  An' see her gleed e'e raxin' back
+        To keek ahint her;--
+  To me, the brig o' Heev'n gangs black
+        As blackest winter.
+
+  "_Lordsake! we're aff_," thinks I, "_but whaur?
+  On what abhorred an' whinny scaur,
+  Or whammled in what sea o' glaur,
+        Will she desert me?
+  An' will she just disgrace? or waur--
+        Will she no' hurt me?_"
+
+  Kittle the quaere! But at least
+  The day I've backed the fashious beast,
+  While she, wi' mony a spang an' reist,
+        Flang heels ower bonnet;
+  An' a' triumphant--for your feast,
+        Hae! there's your sonnet!
+
+
+XI
+
+EMBRO HIE KIRK
+
+  The Lord Himsel' in former days
+  Waled out the proper tunes for praise
+  An' named the proper kind o' claes
+        For folk to preach in:
+  Preceese and in the chief o' ways
+        Important teachin'.
+
+  He ordered a' things late and air';
+  He ordered folk to stand at prayer
+  (Although I canna just mind where
+        He gave the warnin'),
+  An' pit pomatum on their hair
+        On Sabbath mornin'.
+
+  The hale o' life by His commands
+  Was ordered to a body's hands;
+  But see! this _corpus juris_ stands
+        By a' forgotten;
+  An' God's religion in a' lands
+        Is deid an' rotten.
+
+  While thus the lave o' mankind's lost,
+  O' Scotland still God maks His boast--
+  Puir Scotland, on whase barren coast
+        A score or twa
+  Auld wives wi' mutches an' a hoast
+        Still keep His law.
+
+  In Scotland, a wheen canty, plain,
+  Douce, kintry-leevin' folk retain
+  The Truth--or did so aince--alane
+        Of a' men leevin';
+  An' noo just twa o' them remain--
+        Just Begg an' Niven.
+
+  For noo, unfaithfue' to the Lord,
+  Auld Scotland joins the rebel horde;
+  Her human hymn-books on the board
+        She noo displays:
+  An' Embro Hie Kirk's been restored
+        In popish ways.
+
+  O _punctum temporis_ for action
+  To a' o' the reformin' faction,
+  If yet, by ony act or paction,
+        Thocht, word, or sermon,
+  This dark an' damnable transaction
+        Micht yet determine!
+
+  For see--as Doctor Begg explains--
+  Hoo easy 't's duene! a pickle weans,
+  Wha in the Hie Street gaither stanes
+        By his instruction,
+  The uncovenantit, pentit panes
+        Ding to destruction.
+
+  Up, Niven, or ower late--an' dash
+  Laigh in the glaur that carnal hash;
+  Let spires and pews wi' gran' stramash
+        Thegither fa';
+  The rumlin' kist o' whustles smash
+        In pieces sma'.
+
+  Noo choose ye out a walie hammer;
+  About the knottit buttress clam'er;
+  Alang the steep roof stoyt an' stammer,
+        A gate mischancy;
+  On the aul' spire, the bells' hie cha'mer,
+        Dance your bit dancie.
+
+  Ding, devel, dunt, destroy, an' ruin,
+  Wi' carnal stanes the square bestrewn',
+  Till your loud chaps frae Kyle to Fruin,
+        Frae Hell to Heeven,
+  Tell the guid wark that baith are doin'--
+        Baith Begg an' Niven.
+
+
+XII
+
+THE SCOTSMAN'S RETURN FROM ABROAD
+
+IN A LETTER FROM MR. THOMSON TO MR. JOHNSTONE
+
+  In mony a foreign pairt I've been,
+  An' mony an unco ferlie seen,
+  Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I,
+  Last walkit upon Cocklerye.
+  Wi' gleg, observant een, I pass't
+  By sea an' land, through East an' Wast,
+  And still in ilka age an' station
+  Saw naething but abomination.
+  In thir uncovenantit lands
+  The gangrel Scot uplifts his hands
+  At lack of a' sectarian fuesh'n,
+  An' cauld religious destituetion.
+  He rins, puir man, frae place to place,
+  Tries a' their graceless means o' grace,
+  Preacher on preacher, kirk on kirk--
+  This yin a stot an' thon a stirk--
+  A bletherin' clan, no warth a preen.
+  As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen!
+
+  At last, across the weary faem,
+  Frae far, outlandish pairts I came.
+  On ilka side o' me I fand
+  Fresh tokens o' my native land.
+  Wi' whatna joy I hailed them a'--
+  The hill-taps standin' raw by raw,
+  The public-house, the Hielan' birks,
+  And a' the bonny U.P. kirks!
+  But maistly thee, the bluid o' Scots,
+  Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Groats!
+  The king o' drinks, as I conceive it,
+  Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!
+
+  For after years wi' a pockmantie
+  Frae Zanzibar to Alicante,
+  In mony a fash and sair affliction
+  I gie't as my sincere conviction--
+  Of a' their foreign tricks an' pliskies,
+  I maist abominate their whiskies.
+  Nae doot, themsel's, they ken it weel,
+  An' wi' a hash o' leemon peel,
+  And ice an' siccan filth, they ettle
+  The stawsome kind o' goo to settle
+  Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi'
+  As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi'.
+
+  An', man, I was a blithe hame-comer
+  Whan first I syndit out my rummer.
+  Ye should hae seen me then, wi' care
+  The less important pairts prepare;
+  Syne, weel contentit wi' it a',
+  Pour in the speerits wi' a jaw!
+  I didna drink, I didna speak,--
+  I only snowkit up the reek.
+  I was sae pleased therein to paidle,
+  I sat an' plowtered wi' my ladle.
+
+  An' blithe was I, the morrow's morn,
+  To daunder through the stookit corn,
+  And after a' my strange mishanters
+  Sit doun amang my ain dissenters
+  An', man, it was a joy to me
+  The pu'pit an' the pews to see,
+  The pennies dirlin' in the plate,
+  The elders lookin' on in state;
+  An' 'mang the first, as it befell,
+  Wha should I see, sir, but yoursel'!
+
+  I was, and I will no' deny it,
+  At the first gliff a hantle tryit
+  To see yoursel' in sic a station--
+  It seemed a doubtfue' dispensation.
+  The feelin' was a mere digression;
+  For shuene I understood the session,
+  An' mindin' Aiken an' M'Neil,
+  I wondered they had duene sae weel.
+  I saw I had mysel' to blame;
+  For had I but remained at hame,
+  Aiblins--though no ava' deservin' 't--
+  They micht hae named your humble servant.
+
+  The kirk was filled, the door was steiked;
+  Up to the pu'pit aince I keeked;
+  I was mair pleased than I can tell--
+  It was the minister himsel'!
+  Proud, proud was I to see his face,
+  After sae lang awa' frae grace.
+  Pleased as I was, I'm no' denyin'
+  Some maitters were not edifyin';
+  For first I fand--an' here was news!--
+  Mere hymn-books cockin' in the pews--
+  A humanised abomination,
+  Unfit for ony congregation.
+  Syne, while I still was on the tenter,
+  I scunnered at the new prezentor;
+  I thocht him gesterin' an' cauld--
+  A sair declension frae the auld.
+  Syne, as though a' the faith was wreckit,
+  The prayer was not what I'd exspeckit.
+  Himsel', as it appeared to me,
+  Was no' the man he uesed to be.
+  But just as I was growin' vext
+  He waled a maist judeecious text,
+  An', launchin' into his prelections,
+  Swoopt, wi' a skirl, on a' defections.
+
+  O what a gale was on my speerit
+  To hear the p'ints o' doctrine clearit,
+  And a' the horrors o' damnation
+  Set furth wi' faithfue' ministration!
+  Nae shauchlin' testimony here--
+  We were a' damned, an' that was clear.
+  I owned, wi' gratitude an' wonder,
+  He was a pleesure to sit under.
+
+
+XIII
+
+  Late in the nicht in bed I lay,
+  The winds were at their weary play,
+  An' tirlin' wa's an' skirlin' wae
+        Through Heev'n they battered;--
+  On-ding o' hail, on-blaff o' spray,
+        The tempest blattered.
+
+  The masoned house it dinled through;
+  It dung the ship, it cowped the coo;
+  The rankit aiks it overthrew,
+        Had braved a' weathers;
+  The strang sea-gleds it took an' blew
+        Awa' like feethers.
+
+  The thrawes o' fear on a' were shed,
+  An' the hair rose, an' slumber fled,
+  An' lichts were lit an' prayers were said
+        Through a' the kintry;
+  An' the cauld terror clum in bed
+        Wi' a' an' sindry.
+
+  To hear in the pit-mirk on hie
+  The brangled collieshangie flie,
+  The warl', they thocht, wi' land an' sea,
+        Itsel' wad cowpit;
+  An' for auld airn, the smashed debris
+        By God be rowpit.
+
+  Meanwhile frae far Aldeboran
+  To folks wi' talescopes in han',
+  O' ships that cowpit, winds that ran,
+        Nae sign was seen,
+  But the wee warl' in sunshine span
+        As bricht's a preen.
+
+  I, tae, by God's especial grace,
+  Dwall denty in a bieldy place,
+  Wi' hosened feet, wi' shaven face,
+        Wi' dacent mainners:
+  A grand example to the race
+        O' tautit sinners!
+
+  The wind may blaw, the heathen rage,
+  The deil may start on the rampage;--
+  The sick in bed, the thief in cage--
+        What's a' to me?
+  Cosh in my house, a sober sage,
+        I sit an' see.
+
+  An' whiles the bluid spangs to my bree,
+  To lie sae saft, to live sae free,
+  While better men maun do an' die
+         In unco places.
+  "_Whaur's God?_" I cry, an' "_Whae is me
+        To hae sic graces?_"
+
+  I mind the fecht the sailors keep,
+  But fire or can'le, rest or sleep,
+  In darkness an' the muckle deep;
+        An' mind beside
+  The herd that on the hills o' sheep
+        Has wandered wide.
+
+  I mind me on the hoastin' weans--
+  The penny joes on causey-stanes--
+  The auld folk wi' the crazy banes,
+        Baith auld an' puir,
+  That aye maun thole the winds an' rains
+        An' labour sair.
+
+  An' whiles I'm kind o' pleased a blink,
+  An' kind o' fleyed forby, to think,
+  For a' my rowth o' meat an' drink
+        An' waste o' crumb,
+  I'll mebbe have to thole wi' skink
+        In Kingdom Come.
+
+  For God whan jowes the Judgment bell
+  Wi' His ain Hand, His Leevin' Sel',
+  Sall ryve the guid (as Prophets tell)
+        Frae them that had it;
+  And in the reamin' pat o' Hell,
+        The rich be scaddit.
+
+  O Lord, if this indeed be sae,
+  Let daw' that sair an' happy day!
+  Again the warl', grawn auld an' grey,
+        Up wi' your aixe!
+  An' let the puir enjoy their play--
+        I'll thole my paiks.
+
+
+XIV
+
+MY CONSCIENCE!
+
+  Of a' the ills that flesh can fear,
+  The loss o' frien's, the lack o' gear,
+  A yowlin' tyke, a glandered mear,
+        A lassie's nonsense--
+  There's just ae thing I canna bear,
+        An' that's my conscience.
+
+  Whan day (an' a' excuese) has gane,
+  An' wark is duene, and duty's plain,
+  An' to my chalmer a' my lane
+        I creep apairt,
+  My conscience! hoo the yammerin' pain
+        Stends to my heart!
+
+  A' day wi' various ends in view,
+  The hairsts o' time I had to pu',
+  An' made a hash wad staw a soo,
+        Let be a man!--
+  My conscience! whan my han's were fu',
+        Whaur were ye than?
+
+  An' there were a' the lures o' life,
+  There pleesure skirlin' on the fife,
+  There anger, wi' the hotchin' knife
+        Ground shairp in Hell--
+  My conscience!--you that's like a wife!--
+        Whaur was yoursel'?
+
+  I ken it fine: just waitin' here,
+  To gar the evil waur appear,
+  To clart the guid, confuese the clear,
+        Misca' the great,
+  My conscience! an' to raise a steer
+        Whan a's ower late.
+
+  Sic-like, some tyke grawn auld and blind,
+  Whan thieves brok' through the gear to p'ind,
+  Has lain his dozened length an' grinned
+        At the disaster;
+  An' the morn's mornin', wud's the wind,
+        Yokes on his master.
+
+
+XV
+
+TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN
+
+     _Whan the dear doctor, dear to a',
+     Was still among us here belaw,
+     I set my pipes his praise to blaw
+             Wi' a' my speerit;
+     But noo, dear doctor! he's awa'
+           An' ne'er can hear it._
+
+  By Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees,
+  By a' the various river Dee's,
+  In Mars and Manors 'yont the seas
+        Or here at hame,
+  Whaure'er there's kindly folk to please,
+        They ken your name.
+
+  They ken your name, they ken your tyke,
+  They ken the honey from your byke;
+  But mebbe after a' your fyke,
+        (The trueth to tell)
+  It's just your honest Rab they like,
+        An' no' yoursel'.
+
+  As at the gowff, some canny play'r
+  Should tee a common ba' wi' care--
+  Should flourish and deleever fair
+        His souple shintie--
+  An' the ba' rise into the air,
+        A leevin' lintie:
+
+  Sae in the game we writers play,
+  There comes to some a bonny day,
+  When a dear ferlie shall repay
+        Their years o' strife,
+  An' like your Rab, their things o' clay
+        Spreid wings o' life.
+
+  Ye scarce deserved it, I'm afraid--
+  You that had never learned the trade,
+  But just some idle mornin' strayed
+        Into the schuele,
+  An' picked the fiddle up an' played
+        Like Neil himsel'.
+
+  Your e'e was gleg, your fingers dink;
+  Ye didna fash yoursel' to think,
+  But wove, as fast as puss can link,
+        Your denty wab:--
+  Ye stapped your pen into the ink,
+        An' there was Rab!
+
+  Sinsyne, whaure'er your fortune lay
+  By dowie den, by canty brae,
+  Simmer an' winter, nicht an' day,
+        Rab was aye wi' ye;
+  An' a' the folk on a' the way
+        Were blithe to see ye.
+
+  O sir, the gods are kind indeed,
+  An' hauld ye for an honoured heid,
+  That for a wee bit clarkit screed
+        Sae weel reward ye,
+  An' lend--puir Rabbie bein' deid--
+        His ghaist to guard ye.
+
+  For though, whaure'er yoursel' may be,
+  We've just to turn an' glisk a wee,
+  An' Rab at heel we're shuere to see
+        Wi' gladsome caper:--
+  The bogle of a bogle, he--
+        A ghaist o' paper!
+
+  And as the auld-farrant hero sees
+  In Hell a bogle Hercules,
+  Pit there the lesser deid to please,
+        While he himsel'
+  Dwalls wi' the muckle gods at ease
+        Far raised frae Hell:
+
+  Sae the true Rabbie far has gane
+  On kindlier business o' his ain
+  Wi' aulder frien's; an' his breist-bane
+        An' stumpie tailie,
+  He birstles at a new hearth-stane
+        By James and Ailie.
+
+
+XVI
+
+  It's an owercome sooth for age an' youth,
+    And it brooks wi' nae denial,
+  That the dearest friends are the auldest friends,
+    And the young are just on trial.
+
+  There's a rival bauld wi' young an' auld,
+    And it's him that has bereft me;
+  For the suerest friends are the auldest friends,
+    And the maist o' mine's hae left me.
+
+  There are kind hearts still, for friends to fill
+    And fools to take and break them;
+  But the nearest friends are the auldest friends,
+    And the grave's the place to seek them.
+
+
+
+
+BALLADS
+
+
+THE SONG OF RAHERO
+
+A LEGEND OF TAHITI
+
+  _TO
+  ORI A ORI_
+
+  _Ori, my brother in the island mode,
+  In every tongue and meaning much my friend,
+  This story of your country and your clan,
+  In your loved house, your too much honoured guest,
+  I made in English. Take it, being done;
+  And let me sign it with the name you gave._
+
+    _TERIITERA._
+
+
+
+
+BALLADS
+
+THE SONG OF RAHERO
+
+
+I
+
+THE SLAYING OF TAMATEA
+
+  It fell in the days of old, as the men of Taiarapu tell,
+  A youth went forth to the fishing, and fortune favoured him well.
+  Tamatea his name: gullible, simple, and kind.
+  Comely of countenance, nimble of body, empty of mind,
+  His mother ruled him and loved him beyond the wont of a wife,
+  Serving the lad for eyes and living herself in his life.
+  Alone from the sea and the fishing came Tamatea the fair,
+  Urging his boat to the beach, and the mother awaited him there.
+  --"Long may you live!" said she. "Your fishing has sped to a wish.
+  And now let us choose for the king the fairest of all your fish.
+  For fear inhabits the palace and grudging grows in the land,
+  Marked is the sluggardly foot and marked the niggardly hand,
+  The hours and the miles are counted, the tributes numbered and weighed,
+  And woe to him that comes short, and woe to him that delayed!"
+  So spoke on the beach the mother, and counselled the wiser thing.
+  For Rahero stirred in the country and secretly mined the king.
+  Nor were the signals wanting of how the leaven wrought,
+  In the cords of obedience loosed and the tributes grudgingly brought.
+  And when last to the temple of Oro the boat with the victim sped,
+  And the priest uncovered the basket and looked on the face of the dead,
+  Trembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous thing,
+  For there was the aito[1] dead, and he of the house of the king.
+
+  So spake on the beach the mother, matter worthy of note,
+  And wattled a basket well, and chose a fish from the boat;
+  And Tamatea the pliable shouldered the basket and went,
+  And travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad that was well content.
+  Still the way of his going was round by the roaring coast,
+  Where the ring of the reef is broke and the trades run riot the most.
+  On his left, with smoke as of battle, the billows battered the land;
+  Unscalable, turreted mountains rose on the inner hand.
+  And cape, and village, and river, and vale, and mountain above,
+  Each had a name in the land for men to remember and love;
+  And never the name of a place, but lo! a song in its praise:
+  Ancient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier days
+  That the elders taught to the young, and at night, in the full of the
+      moon,
+  Garlanded boys and maidens sang together in tune.
+  Tamatea the placable went with a lingering foot;
+  He sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse as a flute;
+  He broiled in the sun, he breathed in the grateful shadow of trees,
+  In the icy stream of the rivers he waded over the knees;
+  And still in his empty mind crowded, a thousand-fold,
+  The deeds of the strong and the songs of the cunning heroes of old.
+
+  And now was he come to a place Taiarapu honoured the most,
+  Where a silent valley of woods debouched on the noisy coast,
+  Spewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai.[2]
+  There, in his potent youth, when his parents drove him to die,
+  Honoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp and the fire,
+  Washed by the rains of the trade and clotting his hair in the mire;
+  And there, so mighty his hands, he bent the tree to his foot--
+  So keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it naked of fruit.
+  There, as she pondered the clouds for the shadow of coming ills,
+  Ahupu, the woman of song, walked on high on the hills.
+
+  Of these was Rahero sprung, a man of a godly race;
+  And inherited cunning of spirit, and beauty of body and face.
+  Of yore in his youth, as an aito, Rahero wandered the land,
+  Delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men with his hand.
+  Famous he was in his youth; but before the midst of his life
+  Paused, and fashioned a song of farewell to glory and strife.
+
+  _House of mine_ (it went), _house upon the sea,
+  Belov'd of all my fathers, more belov'd by me!
+  Vale of the strong Honoura, deep ravine of Pai,
+  Again in your woody summits I hear the trade-wind cry_.
+
+  _House of mine, in your walls, strong sounds the sea,
+  Of all sounds on earth, dearest sound to me.
+  I have heard the applause of men, I have heard it arise and die:
+  Sweeter now in my house I hear the trade-wind cry._
+
+  These were the words of his singing, other the thought of his heart;
+  For secret desire of glory vexed him, dwelling apart.
+  Lazy and crafty he was, and loved to lie in the sun,
+  And loved the cackle of talk and the true word uttered in fun;
+  Lazy he was, his roof was ragged, his table was lean,
+  And the fish swam safe in his sea, and he gathered the near and the
+      green.
+  He sat in his house and laughed, but he loathed the king of the land,
+  And he uttered the grudging word under the covering hand.
+  Treason spread from his door; and he looked for a day to come,
+  A day of the crowding people, a day of the summoning drum,
+  When the vote should be taken, the king be driven forth in disgrace,
+  And Rahero, the laughing and lazy, sit and rule in his place.
+
+  Here Tamatea came, and beheld the house on the brook;
+  And Rahero was there by the way and covered an oven to cook.[3]
+  Naked he was to the loins, but the tattoo covered the lack,
+  And the sun and the shadow of palms dappled his muscular back.
+  Swiftly he lifted his head at the fall of the coming feet,
+  And the water sprang in his mouth with a sudden desire of meat:
+  For he marked the basket carried, covered from flies and the sun;[4]
+  And Rahero buried his fire, but the meat in his house was done.
+
+  Forth he stepped; and took, and delayed the boy, by the hand;
+  And vaunted the joys of meat and the ancient ways of the land:
+  --"Our sires of old in Taiarapu, they that created the race,
+  Ate ever with eager hand, nor regarded season or place,
+  Ate in the boat at the oar, on the way afoot; and at night
+  Arose in the midst of dreams to rummage the house for a bite.
+  It is good for the youth in his turn to follow the way of the sire;
+  And behold how fitting the time! for here do I cover my fire."
+  --"I see the fire for the cooking, but never the meat to cook,"
+  Said Tamatea.--"Tut!" said Rahero. "Here in the brook,
+  And there in the tumbling sea, the fishes are thick as flies,
+  Hungry like healthy men, and like pigs for savour and size:
+  Crayfish crowding the river, sea-fish thronging the sea."
+  --"Well, it may be," says the other, "and yet be nothing to me.
+  Fain would I eat, but alas! I have needful matter in hand,
+  Since I carry my tribute of fish to the jealous king of the land."
+
+  Now at the word a light sprang in Rahero's eyes.
+  "I will gain me a dinner," thought he, "and lend the king a surprise."
+  And he took the lad by the arm, as they stood by the side of the track,
+  And smiled, and rallied, and flattered, and pushed him forward and back.
+  It was "You that sing like a bird, I never have heard you sing,"
+  And "The lads when I was a lad were none so feared of a king.
+  And of what account is an hour, when the heart is empty of guile?
+  But come, and sit in the house and laugh with the women awhile;
+  And I will but drop my hook, and behold! the dinner made."
+
+  So Tamatea the pliable hung up his fish in the shade
+  On a tree by the side of the way; and Rahero carried him in,
+  Smiling as smiles the fowler when flutters the bird to the gin,
+  And chose him a shining hook,[5] and viewed it with sedulous eye,
+  And breathed and burnished it well on the brawn of his naked thigh,
+  And set a mat for the gull, and bade him be merry and bide,
+  Like a man concerned for his guest, and the fishing, and nothing beside.
+
+  Now when Rahero was forth, he paused and hearkened, and heard
+  The gull jest in the house and the women laugh at his word;
+  And stealthily crossed to the side of the way, to the shady place
+  Where the basket hung on a mango; and craft transfigured his face.
+  Deftly he opened the basket, and took of the fat of the fish,
+  The cut of kings and chieftains, enough for a goodly dish.
+  This he wrapped in a leaf, set on the fire to cook,
+  And buried; and next the marred remains of the tribute he took,
+  And doubled and packed them well, and covered the basket close.
+  --"There is a buffet, my king," quoth he, "and a nauseous dose!"--
+  And hung the basket again in the shade, in a cloud of flies;
+  --"And there is a sauce to your dinner, king of the crafty eyes!"
+
+  Soon as the oven was open, the fish smelt excellent good.
+  In the shade, by the house of Rahero, down they sat to their food,
+  And cleared the leaves,[6] in silence, or uttered a jest and laughed
+  And raising the cocoa-nut bowls, buried their faces and quaffed.
+  But chiefly in silence they ate; and soon as the meal was done,
+  Rahero feigned to remember and measured the hour by the sun
+  And "Tamatea," quoth he, "it is time to be jogging, my lad."
+
+  So Tamatea arose, doing ever the thing he was bade,
+  And carelessly shouldered the basket, and kindly saluted his host;
+  And again the way of his going was round by the roaring coast.
+  Long he went; and at length was aware of a pleasant green,
+  And the stems and shadows of palms, and roofs of lodges between.
+  There sate, in the door of his palace, the king on a kingly seat,
+  And aitos stood armed around, and the yottowas[7] sat at his feet.
+  But fear was a worm in his heart: fear darted his eyes;
+  And he probed men's faces for treasons and pondered their speech for
+      lies.
+  To him came Tamatea, the basket slung in his hand,
+  And paid him the due obeisance standing as vassals stand.
+  In silence hearkened the king, and closed the eyes in his face,
+  Harbouring odious thoughts and the baseless fears of the base;
+  In silence accepted the gift and sent the giver away.
+  So Tamatea departed, turning his back on the day.
+
+  And lo! as the king sat brooding, a rumour rose in the crowd;
+  The yottowas nudged and whispered, the commons murmured aloud;
+  Tittering fell upon all at sight of the impudent thing,
+  At the sight of a gift unroyal flung in the face of a king.
+  And the face of the king turned white and red with anger and shame
+  In their midst; and the heart in his body was water and then was flame;
+  Till of a sudden, turning, he gripped an aito hard,
+  A youth that stood with his omare,[8] one of the daily guard,
+  And spat in his ear a command, and pointed and uttered a name,
+  And hid in the shade of the house his impotent anger and shame.
+
+  Now Tamatea the fool was far on his homeward way,
+  The rising night in his face, behind him the dying day.
+  Rahero saw him go by, and the heart of Rahero was glad,
+  Devising shame to the king and nowise harm to the lad;
+  And all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted him well,
+  For he had the face of a friend and the news of the town to tell;
+  And pleased with the notice of folk, and pleased that his journey was
+      done,
+  Tamatea drew homeward, turning his back to the sun.
+
+  And now was the hour of the bath in Taiarapu: far and near
+  The lovely laughter of bathers rose and delighted his ear.
+  Night massed in the valleys; the sun on the mountain coast
+  Struck, end-long; and above the clouds embattled their host,
+  And glowed and gloomed on the heights; and the heads of the palms were
+      gems,
+  And far to the rising eve extended the shade of their stems;
+  And the shadow of Tamatea hovered already at home.
+
+  And sudden the sound of one coming and running light as the foam
+  Struck on his ear; and he turned, and lo! a man on his track,
+  Girded and armed with an omare, following hard at his back.
+  At a bound the man was upon him;--and, or ever a word was said,
+  The loaded end of the omare fell and laid him dead.
+
+
+II
+
+THE VENGING OF TAMATEA
+
+  Thus was Rahero's treason; thus and no further it sped.
+  The king sat safe in his place and a kindly fool was dead.
+
+  But the mother of Tamatea arose with death in her eyes.
+  All night long, and the next, Taiarapu rang with her cries.
+  As when a babe in the wood turns with a chill of doubt
+  And perceives nor home, nor friends, for the trees have closed her
+      about,
+  The mountain rings and her breast is torn with the voice of despair:
+  So the lion-like woman idly wearied the air
+  For a while, and pierced men's hearing in vain, and wounded their
+      hearts.
+  But as when the weather changes at sea, in dangerous parts,
+  And sudden the hurricane wrack unrolls up the front of the sky,
+  At once the ship lies idle, the sails hang silent on high,
+  The breath of the wind that blew is blown out like the flame of a lamp,
+  And the silent armies of death draw near with inaudible tramp:
+  So sudden, the voice of her weeping ceased; in silence she rose
+  And passed from the house of her sorrow, a woman clothed with repose,
+  Carrying death in her breast and sharpening death in her hand.
+
+  Hither she went and thither in all the coasts of the land.
+  They tell that she feared not to slumber alone, in the dead of night,
+  In accursed places; beheld, unblenched, the ribbon of light[9]
+  Spin from temple to temple; guided the perilous skiff,
+  Abhorred not the paths of the mountain and trod the verge of the cliff;
+  From end to end of the island, thought not the distance long,
+  But forth from king to king carried the tale of her wrong.
+  To king after king, as they sat in the palace door, she came,
+  Claiming kinship, declaiming verses, naming her name
+  And the names of all of her fathers; and still, with a heart on the
+      rack,
+  Jested to capture a hearing and laughed when they jested back;
+  So would deceive them a while, and change and return in a breath,
+  And on all the men of Vaiau imprecate instant death;
+  And tempt her kings--for Vaiau was a rich and prosperous land,
+  And flatter--for who would attempt it but warriors mighty of hand?
+  And change in a breath again and rise in a strain of song,
+  Invoking the beaten drums, beholding the fall of the strong,
+  Calling the fowls of the air to come and feast on the dead.
+  And they held the chin in silence, and heard her, and shook the head;
+  For they knew the men of Taiarapu famous in battle and feast,
+  Marvellous eaters and smiters: the men of Vaiau not least.
+  To the land of the Namunu-ura, to Paea,[10] at length she came,
+  To men who were foes to the Tevas and hated their race and name.
+  There was she well received, and spoke with Hiopa the king.[11]
+  And Hiopa listened, and weighed, and wisely considered the thing.
+  "Here in the back of the isle we dwell in a sheltered place,"
+  Quoth he to the woman, "in quiet, a weak and peaceable race.
+  But far in the teeth of the wind lofty Taiarapu lies;
+  Strong blows the wind of the trade on its seaward face, and cries
+  Aloud in the top of arduous mountains, and utters its song
+  In green continuous forests. Strong is the wind, and strong
+  And fruitful and hardy the race, famous in battle and feast,
+  Marvellous eaters and smiters: the men of Vaiau not least.
+  Now hearken to me, my daughter, and hear a word of the wise:
+  How a strength goes linked with a weakness, two by two, like the eyes.
+  They can wield the omare well and cast the javelin far;
+  Yet are they greedy and weak as the swine and the children are.
+  Plant we, then, here at Paea a garden of excellent fruits;
+  Plant we bananas and kava and taro, the king of roots;
+  Let the pigs in Paea be tapu[12] and no man fish for a year;
+  And of all the meat in Tahiti gather we threefold here.
+  So shall the fame of our plenty fill the island and so,
+  At last, on the tongue of rumour, go where we wish it to go.
+  Then shall the pigs of Taiarapu raise their snouts in the air;
+  But we sit quiet and wait, as the fowler sits by the snare,
+  And tranquilly fold our hands, till the pigs come nosing the food:
+  But meanwhile build us a house of Trotea, the stubborn wood,
+  Bind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof to the room,
+  Too strong for the hands of a man to dissever or fire to consume;
+  And there, when the pigs come trotting, there shall the feast be spread,
+  There shall the eye of the morn enlighten the feasters dead.
+  So be it done; for I have a heart that pities your state,
+  And Nateva and Namunu-ura are fire and water for hate."
+
+  All was done as he said, and the gardens prospered; and now
+  The fame of their plenty went out, and word of it came to Vaiau.
+  For the men of Namunu-ura sailed, to the windward far,
+  Lay in the offing by south where the towns of the Tevas are,
+  And cast overboard of their plenty; and lo! at the Tevas' feet
+  The surf on all the beaches tumbled treasures of meat.
+  In the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with the refluent foam;
+  And the children gleaned it in playing, and ate and carried it home;
+  And the elders stared and debated, and wondered and passed the jest,
+  But whenever a guest came by eagerly questioned the guest;
+  And little by little, from one to another, the word went round:
+  "In all the borders of Paea the victual rots on the ground,
+  And swine are plenty as rats. And now, when they fare to the sea,
+  The men of the Namunu-ura glean from under the tree
+  And load the canoe to the gunwale with all that is toothsome to eat;
+  And all day long on the sea the jaws are crushing the meat,
+  The steersman eats at the helm, the rowers munch at the oar,
+  And at length, when their bellies are full, overboard with the store!"
+  Now was the word made true, and soon as the bait was bare,
+  All the pigs of Taiarapu raised their snouts in the air.
+  Songs were recited, and kinship was counted, and tales were told
+  How war had severed of late but peace had cemented of old
+  The clans of the island. "To war," said they, "now set we an end,
+  And hie to the Namunu-ura even as a friend to a friend."
+
+  So judged, and a day was named; and soon as the morning broke,
+  Canoes were thrust in the sea, and the houses emptied of folk.
+  Strong blew the wind of the south, the wind that gathers the clan;
+  Along all the line of the reef the clamorous surges ran;
+  And the clouds were piled on the top of the island mountain-high,
+  A mountain throned on a mountain. The fleet of canoes swept by
+  In the midst, on the green lagoon, with a crew released from care,
+  Sailing an even water, breathing a summer air,
+  Cheered by a cloudless sun; and ever to left and right,
+  Bursting surge on the reef, drenching storms on the height.
+  So the folk of Vaiau sailed and were glad all day,
+  Coasting the palm-tree cape and crossing the populous bay
+  By all the towns of the Tevas; and still as they bowled along,
+  Boat would answer to boat with jest and laughter and song,
+  And the people of all the towns trooped to the sides of the sea,
+  And gazed from under the hand or sprang aloft on the tree
+  Hailing and cheering. Time failed them for more to do;
+  The holiday village careened to the wind, and was gone from view
+  Swift as a passing bird; and ever as onward it bore,
+  Like the cry of the passing bird, bequeathed its song to the shore--
+  Desirable laughter of maids and the cry of delight of the child.
+  And the gazer, left behind, stared at the wake and smiled.
+  By all the towns of the Tevas they went, and Papara last,
+  The home of the chief, the place of muster in war; and passed
+  The march of the lands of the clan, to the lands of an alien folk.
+  And there, from the dusk of the shoreside palms, a column of smoke
+  Mounted and wavered and died in the gold of the setting sun,
+  "Paea!" they cried. "It is Paea." And so was the voyage done.
+
+  In the early fall of the night Hiopa came to the shore,
+  And beheld and counted the comers, and lo, they were forty score;
+  The pelting feet of the babes that ran already and played,
+  The clean-lipped smile of the boy, the slender breasts of the maid,
+  And mighty limbs of women, stalwart mothers of men.
+  The sires stood forth unabashed; but a little back from
+  his ken
+  Clustered the scarcely nubile, the lads and maids, in a ring,
+  Fain of each other, afraid of themselves, aware of the king
+  And aping behaviour, but clinging together with hands and eyes,
+  With looks that were kind like kisses, and laughter tender as sighs.
+  There, too, the grandsire stood, raising his silver crest,
+  And the impotent hands of a suckling groped in his barren breast.
+  The childhood of love, the pair well married, the innocent brood,
+  The tale of the generations repeated and ever renewed--
+  Hiopa beheld them together, all the ages of man,
+  And a moment shook in his purpose.
+
+              But these were the foes of his clan,
+  And he trod upon pity, and came, and civilly greeted the king,
+  And gravely entreated Rahero; and for all that could fight or sing,
+  And claimed a name in the land, had fitting phrases of praise:
+  But with all who were well-descended he spoke of the ancient days.
+  And "'Tis true," said he, "that in Paea the victual rots on the ground;
+  But, friends, your number is many; and pigs must be hunted and found,
+  And the lads must troop to the mountains to bring the feis down,
+  And around the bowls of the kava cluster the maids of the town.
+  So, for to-night, sleep here; but king, common, and priest
+  To-morrow, in order due, shall sit with me in the feast."
+  Sleepless the live-long night, Hiopa's followers toiled.
+  The pigs screamed and were slaughtered; the spars of the guest-house
+      oiled,
+  The leaves spread on the floor. In many a mountain glen
+  The moon drew shadows of trees on the naked bodies of men
+  Plucking and bearing fruits; and in all the bounds of the town
+  Red glowed the cocoa-nut fires, and were buried and trodden down.
+  Thus did seven of the yottowas toil with their tale of the clan,
+  But the eighth wrought with his lads, hid from the sight of man.
+  In the deeps of the woods they laboured, piling the fuel high
+  In fagots, the load of a man, fuel seasoned and dry,
+  Thirsty to seize upon fire and apt to blurt into flame.
+
+  And now was the day of the feast. The forests, as morning came,
+  Tossed in the wind, and the peaks quaked in the blaze of the day--
+  And the cocoa-nuts showered on the ground, rebounding and rolling away:
+  A glorious morn for a feast, a famous wind for a fire.
+  To the hall of feasting Hiopa led them, mother and sire
+  And maid and babe in a tale, the whole of the holiday throng.
+  Smiling they came, garlanded green, not dreaming of wrong;
+  And for every three, a pig, tenderly cooked in the ground,
+  Waited; and fei, the staff of life, heaped in a mound
+  For each where he sat;--for each, bananas roasted and raw
+  Piled with a bountiful hand, as for horses hay and straw
+  Are stacked in a stable; and fish, the food of desire,[13]
+  And plentiful vessels of sauce, and bread-fruit gilt in the fire;--
+  And kava was common as water. Feasts have there been ere now,
+  And many, but never a feast like that of the folk of Vaiau.
+  All day long they ate with the resolute greed of brutes,
+  And turned from the pigs to the fish, and again from the fish to the
+      fruits,
+  And emptied the vessels of sauce, and drank of the kava deep;
+  Till the young lay stupid as stones, and the strongest nodded to sleep.
+  Sleep that was mighty as death and blind as a moonless night
+  Tethered them hand and foot; and their souls were drowned, and the light
+  Was cloaked from their eyes. Senseless together, the old and the young,
+  The fighter deadly to smite and the prater cunning of tongue,
+  The woman wedded and fruitful, inured to the pangs of birth,
+  And the maid that knew not of kisses, blindly sprawled on the earth.
+  From the hall Hiopa the king and his chiefs came stealthily forth.
+
+  Already the sun hung low and enlightened the peaks of the north;
+  But the wind was stubborn to die and blew as it blows at morn,
+  Showering the nuts in the dusk, and e'en as a banner is torn,
+  High on the peaks of the island, shattered the mountain cloud.
+  And now at once, at a signal, a silent, emulous crowd
+  Set hands to the work of death, hurrying to and fro,
+  Like ants, to furnish the fagots, building them broad and low,
+  And piling them high and higher around the walls of the hall.
+  Silence persisted within, for sleep lay heavy on all
+  But the mother of Tamatea stood at Hiopa's side,
+  And shook for terror and joy like a girl that is a bride,
+  Night fell on the toilers, and first Hiopa the wise
+  Made the round of the hose, visiting all with his eyes;
+  And all was piled to the eaves, and fuel blockaded the door;
+  And within, in the house beleaguered, slumbered the forty score.
+
+  Then was an aito despatched and came with fire in his hand,
+  And Hiopa took it.--"Within," said he, "is the life of a land;
+  And behold! I breathe on the coal, I breathe on the dales of the east,
+  And silence falls on forest and shore; the voice of the feast
+  Is quenched, and the smoke of cooking; the roof-tree decays and falls
+  On the empty lodge, and the winds subvert deserted walls."
+
+  Therewithal, to the fuel, he laid the glowing coal;
+  And the redness ran in the mass and burrowed within like a mole,
+  And copious smoke was conceived. But, as when a dam is to burst,
+  The water lips it and crosses in silver trickles at first,
+  And then, of a sudden, whelms and bears it away forthright;
+  So now, in a moment, the flame sprang and towered in the night,
+  And wrestled and roared in the wind, and high over house and tree,
+  Stood, like a streaming torch, enlightening land and sea.
+
+  But the mother of Tamatea threw her arms abroad,
+  "Pyre of my son," she shouted, "debited vengeance of God,
+  Late, late, I behold you, yet I behold you at last,
+  And glory, beholding! For now are the days of my agony past,
+  The lust that famished my soul now eats and drinks its desire,
+  And they that encompassed my son shrivel alive in the fire.
+  Tenfold precious the vengeance that comes after lingering years!
+  Ye quenched the voice of my singer?--hark, in your dying ears,
+  The song of the conflagration! Ye left me a widow alone?
+  --Behold, the whole of your race consumes, sinew and bone
+  And torturing flesh together: man, mother, and maid
+  Heaped in a common shambles; and already, borne by the trade,
+  The smoke of your dissolution darkens the stars of night."
+
+  Thus she spoke, and her stature grew in the people's sight.
+
+
+III
+
+RAHERO
+
+  Rahero was there in the hall asleep: beside him his wife,
+  Comely, a mirthful woman, one that delighted in life;
+  And a girl that was ripe for marriage, shy and sly as a mouse;
+  And a boy, a climber of trees: all the hopes of his house.
+  Unwary, with open hands, he slept in the midst of his folk,
+  And dreamed that he heard a voice crying without, and awoke,
+  Leaping blindly afoot like one from a dream that he fears.
+  A hellish glow and clouds were about him;--it roared in his ears
+  Like the sound of the cataract fall that plunges sudden and steep;
+  And Rahero swayed as he stood, and his reason was still asleep.
+  Now the flame struck hard on the house, wind-wielded, a fracturing blow,
+  And the end of the roof was burst and fell on the sleepers below;
+  And the lofty hall, and the feast, and the prostrate bodies of folk,
+  Shone red in his eyes a moment, and then were swallowed of smoke.
+  In the mind of Rahero clearness came; and he opened his throat;
+  And as when a squall comes sudden, the straining sail of a boat
+  Thunders aloud and bursts, so thundered the voice of the man.
+  --"The wind and the rain!" he shouted, the mustering word of the
+      clan,[14]
+  And "Up!" and "To arms, men of Vaiau!" But silence replied,
+  Or only the voice of the gusts of the fire, and nothing beside.
+
+  Rahero stooped and groped. He handled his womankind,
+  But the fumes of the fire and the kava had quenched the life of their
+      mind,
+  And they lay like pillars prone; and his hand encountered the boy,
+  And there sprang in the gloom of his soul a sudden lightning of joy.
+  "Him can I save!" he thought, "if I were speedy enough."
+  And he loosened the cloth from his loins, and swaddled the child in the
+      stuff:
+  And about the strength of his neck he knotted the burden well.
+
+  There where the roof had fallen, it roared like the mouth of hell.
+  Thither Rahero went, stumbling on senseless folk,
+  And grappled a post of the house, and began to climb in the smoke:
+  The last alive of Vaiau; and the son borne by the sire.
+  The post glowed in the grain with ulcers of eating fire,
+  And the fire bit to the blood and mangled his hands and thighs;
+  And the fumes sang in his head like wine and stung in his eyes;
+  And still he climbed, and came to the top, the place of proof,
+  And thrust a hand through the flame, and clambered alive on the roof.
+  But even as he did so, the wind, in a garment of flames and pain,
+  Wrapped him from head to heel; and the waistcloth parted in twain;
+  And the living fruit of his loins dropped in the fire below.
+
+  About the blazing feast-house clustered the eyes of the foe,
+  Watching, hand upon weapon, lest ever a soul should flee,
+  Shading the brow from the glare, straining the neck to see.
+  Only, to leeward, the flames in the wind swept far and wide,
+  And the forest sputtered on fire; and there might no man abide.
+  Thither Rahero crept, and dropped from the burning eaves,
+  And crouching low to the ground, in a treble covert of leaves
+  And fire and volleying smoke, ran for the life of his soul
+  Unseen; and behind him under a furnace of ardent coal,
+  Cairned with a wonder of flame, and blotting the night with smoke,
+  Blazed and were smelted together the bones of all his folk.
+
+  He fled unguided at first; but hearing the breakers roar,
+  Thitherward shaped his way, and came at length to the shore.
+  Sound-limbed he was: dry-eyed; but smarted in every part;
+  And the mighty cage of his ribs heaved on his straining heart
+  With sorrow and rage. And "Fools!" he cried, "fools of Vaiau,
+  Heads of swine--gluttons--Alas! and where are they now?
+  Those that I played with, those that nursed me, those that I nursed?
+  God, and I outliving them! I, the least and the worst--
+  I, that thought myself crafty, snared by this herd of swine,
+  In the tortures of hell and desolate, stripped of all that was mine:
+  All!--my friends and my fathers--the silver heads of yore
+  That trooped to the council, the children that ran to the open door
+  Crying with innocent voices and clasping a father's knees!
+  And mine, my wife--my daughter--my sturdy climber of trees,
+  Ah, never to climb again!"
+
+                          Thus in the dusk of the night
+  (For clouds rolled in the sky and the moon was swallowed from sight),
+  Pacing and gnawing his fists, Rahero raged by the shore.
+  Vengeance: that must be his. But much was to do before;
+  And first a single life to be snatched from a deadly place,
+  A life, the root of revenge, surviving plant of the race:
+  And next the race to be raised anew, and the lands of the clan
+  Repeopled. So Rahero designed, a prudent man
+  Even in wrath, and turned for the means of revenge and escape:
+  A boat to be seized by stealth, a wife to be taken by rape.
+
+  Still was the dark lagoon; beyond on the coral wall,
+  He saw the breakers shine, he heard them bellow and fall.
+  Alone, on the top of the reef, a man with a flaming brand
+  Walked, gazing and pausing, a fish-spear poised in his hand.
+  The foam boiled to his calf when the mightier breakers came,
+  And the torch shed in the wind scattering tufts of flame
+  Afar on the dark lagoon a canoe lay idly at wait:
+  A figure dimly guiding it: surely the fisherman's mate.
+  Rahero saw and he smiled. He straightened his mighty thews:
+  Naked, with never a weapon, and covered with scorch and bruise,
+  He straightened his arms, he filled the void of his body with breath,
+  And, strong as the wind in his manhood, doomed the fisher to death.
+
+  Silent he entered the water, and silently swam, and came
+  There where the fisher walked, holding on high the flame.
+  Loud on the pier of the reef volleyed the breach of the sea;
+  And hard at the back of the man, Rahero crept to his knee
+  On the coral, and suddenly sprang and seized him, the elder hand
+  Clutching the joint of his throat, the other snatching the brand
+  Ere it had time to fall, and holding it steady and high.
+  Strong was the fisher, brave, and swift of mind and of eye--
+  Strongly he threw in the clutch; but Rahero resisted the strain,
+  And jerked, and the spine of life snapped with a crack in twain,
+  And the man came slack in his hands and tumbled a lump at his feet.
+
+  One moment: and there, on the reef, where the breakers whitened and
+      beat,
+  Rahero was standing alone, glowing, and scorched and bare,
+  A victor unknown of any, raising the torch in the air.
+  But once he drank of his breath, and instantly set him to fish
+  Like a man intent upon supper at home and a savoury dish.
+  For what should the woman have seen? A man with a torch--and then
+  A moment's blur of the eyes--and a man with a torch again.
+  And the torch had scarcely been shaken. "Ah, surely," Rahero said,
+  "She will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy born in the head;
+  But time must be given the fool to nourish a fool's belief."
+  So for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the reef,
+  Pausing at times and gazing, striking at times with the spear:
+  --Lastly, uttered the call; and even as the boat drew near,
+  Like a man that was done with its use, tossed the torch in the sea.
+
+  Lightly he leaped on the boat beside the woman; and she
+  Lightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle and place to sit;
+  For now the torch was extinguished the night was black as the pit.
+  Rahero set him to row, never a word he spoke,
+  And the boat sang in the water urged by his vigorous stroke.
+  --"What ails you?" the woman asked, "and why did you drop the brand?
+  We have only to kindle another as soon as we come to land."
+  Never a word Rahero replied, but urged the canoe.
+  And a chill fell on the woman.--"Atta! speak! is it you?
+  Speak! Why are you silent? Why do you bend aside?
+  Wherefore steer to the seaward?" thus she panted and cried.
+  Never a word from the oarsman, toiling there in the dark;
+  But right for a gate of the reef he silently headed the bark,
+  And wielding the single paddle with passionate sweep on sweep,
+  Drove her, the little fitted, forth on the open deep.
+  And fear, there where she sat, froze the woman to stone:
+  Not fear of the crazy boat and the weltering deep alone;
+  But a keener fear of the night, the dark, and the ghostly hour,
+  And the thing that drove the canoe with more than a mortal's power
+  And more than a mortal's boldness. For much she knew of the dead
+  That haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like men, for bread,
+  And traffic with human fishers, or slay them and take their ware,
+  Till the hour when the star of the dead[15] goes down, and the morning
+      air
+  Blows, and the cocks are singing on shore. And surely she knew
+  The speechless thing at her side belonged to the grave.[16]
+
+                                                  It blew
+  All night from the south; all night, Rahero contended and kept
+  The prow to the cresting sea; and, silent as though she slept,
+  The woman huddled and quaked. And now was the peep of day.
+  High and long on their left the mountainous island lay;
+  And over the peaks of Taiarapu arrows of sunlight struck.
+  On shore the birds were beginning to sing: the ghostly ruck
+  Of the buried had long ago returned to the covered grave;
+  And here on the sea, the woman, waxing suddenly brave,
+  Turned her swiftly about and looked in the face of the man.
+  And sure he was none that she knew, none of her country or clan:
+  A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the marks of fire,
+  But comely and great of stature, a man to obey and admire.
+
+  And Rahero regarded her also, fixed, with a frowning face,
+  Judging the woman's fitness to mother a warlike race.
+  Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the thigh,
+  Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported his eye.
+
+  "Woman," said he, "last night the men of your folk--
+  Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in smoke.
+  It was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man of my hands,
+  Escaped, a single life; and now to the empty lands
+  And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with yourself, alone.
+  Before your mother was born, the die of to-day was thrown
+  And you selected:--your husband, vainly striving, to fall
+  Broken between these hands:--yourself to be severed from all,
+  The places, the people, you love--home, kindred, and clan--
+  And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a kinless man."
+
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF FAMINE
+
+MARQUESAN MANNERS
+
+
+I
+
+THE PRIEST'S VIGIL
+
+  In all the land of the tribe was neither fish nor fruit,
+  And the deepest pit of popoi stood empty to the foot.[1]
+  The clans upon the left and the clans upon the right
+  Now oiled their carven maces and scoured their daggers bright;
+  They gat them to the thicket, to the deepest of the shade,
+  And lay with sleepless eyes in the deadly ambuscade.
+  And oft in the starry even the song of morning rose,
+  What time the oven smoked in the country of their foes;
+  For oft to loving hearts, and waiting ears and sight,
+  The lads that went to forage returned not with the night.
+  Now first the children sickened, and then the women paled,
+  And the great arms of the warrior no more for war availed.
+  Hushed was the deep drum, discarded was the dance;
+  And those that met the priest now glanced at him askance.
+  The priest was a man of years, his eyes were ruby-red,[2]
+  He neither feared the dark nor the terrors of the dead,
+  He knew the songs of races, the names of ancient date;
+  And the beard upon his bosom would have bought the chief's estate.
+  He dwelt in a high-built lodge, hard by the roaring shore,
+  Raised on a noble terrace and with tikis[3] at the door.
+  Within it was full of riches, for he served his nation well,
+  And full of the sound of breakers, like the hollow of a shell.
+  For weeks he let them perish, gave never a helping sign,
+  But sat on his oiled platform to commune with the divine,
+  But sat on his high terrace, with the tikis by his side,
+  And stared on the blue ocean, like a parrot, ruby-eyed.
+
+  Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain height:
+  Out on the round of the sea the gems of the morning light,
+  Up from the round of the sea the streamers of the sun;--
+  But down in the depths of the valley the day was not begun.
+  In the blue of the woody twilight burned red the cocoa-husk,
+  And the women and men of the clan went forth to bathe in the dusk,
+  A word that began to go round, a word, a whisper, a start:
+  Hope that leaped in the bosom, fear that knocked on the heart:
+  "See, the priest is not risen--look, for his door is fast!
+  He is going to name the victims; he is going to help us at last."
+
+  Thrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like one of the dead,
+  The priest lay still in his house, with the roar of the sea in his head;
+  There was never a foot on the floor, there was never a whisper of
+      speech;
+  Only the leering tikis stared on the blinding beach.
+  Again were the mountains fired, again the morning broke;
+  And all the houses lay still, but the house of the priest awoke.
+  Close in their covering roofs lay and trembled the clan,
+  But the aged, red-eyed priest ran forth like a lunatic man;
+  And the village panted to see him in the jewels of death again,
+  In the silver beards of the old and the hair of women slain.
+  Frenzy shook in his limbs, frenzy shone in his eyes,
+  And still and again as he ran, the valley rang with his cries.
+  All day long in the land, by cliff and thicket and den,
+  He ran his lunatic rounds, and howled for the flesh of men;
+  All day long he ate not, nor ever drank of the brook;
+  And all day long in their houses the people listened and shook--
+  All day long in their houses they listened with bated breath,
+  And never a soul went forth, for the sight of the priest was death.
+
+  Three were the days of his running, as the gods appointed of yore,
+  Two the nights of his sleeping alone in the place of gore:
+  The drunken slumber of frenzy twice he drank to the lees,
+  On the sacred stones of the High-place under the sacred trees;
+  With a lamp at his ashen head he lay in the place of the feast,
+  And the sacred leaves of the banyan rustled around the priest.
+  Last, when the stated even fell upon terrace and tree,
+  And the shade of the lofty island lay leagues away to sea,
+  And all the valleys of verdure were heavy with manna and musk,
+  The wreck of the red-eyed priest came gasping home in the dusk.
+  He reeled across the village, he staggered along the shore,
+  And between the leering tikis crept groping through his door.
+
+  There went a stir through the lodges, the voice of speech awoke;
+  Once more from the builded platforms arose the evening smoke.
+  And those who were mighty in war, and those renowned for an art
+  Sat in their stated seats and talked of the morrow apart.
+
+
+II
+
+THE LOVERS
+
+  Hark! away in the woods--for the ears of love are sharp--
+  Stealthily, quietly touched, the note of the one-stringed harp.[4]
+  In the lighted house of her father, why should Taheia start?
+  Taheia heavy of hair, Taheia tender of heart,
+  Taheia the well-descended, a bountiful dealer in love,
+  Nimble of foot like the deer, and kind of eye like the dove?
+  Sly and shy as a cat, with never a change of face,
+  Taheia slips to the door, like one that would breathe a space;
+  Saunters and pauses, and looks at the stars, and lists to the seas;
+  Then sudden and swift as a cat, she plunges under the trees.
+  Swift as a cat she runs, with her garment gathered high,
+  Leaping, nimble of foot, running, certain of eye;
+  And ever to guide her way over the smooth and the sharp,
+  Ever nearer and nearer the note of the one-stringed harp;
+  Till at length, in a glade of the wood, with a naked mountain above,
+  The sound of the harp thrown down, and she in the arms of her love.
+  "Rua,"--"Taheia," they cry--"my heart, my soul, and my eyes,"
+  And clasp and sunder and kiss, with lovely laughter and sighs,
+  "Rua!"--"Taheia, my love,"--"Rua, star of my night,
+  Clasp me, hold me, and love me, single spring of delight."
+
+  And Rua folded her close, he folded her near and long,
+  The living knit to the living, and sang the lover's song:
+
+  _Night, night it is, night upon the palms.
+  Night, night it is, the land-wind has blown.
+  Starry, starry night, over deep and height;
+  Love, love in the valley, love all alone._
+
+  "Taheia, heavy of hair, a foolish thing have we done,
+  To bind what gods have sundered unkindly into one.
+  Why should a lowly lover have touched Taheia's skirt,
+  Taheia the well-descended, and Rua child of the dirt?"
+
+  --"On high with the haka-ikis my father sits in state,
+  Ten times fifty kinsmen salute him in the gate;
+  Round all his martial body, and in bands across his face,
+  The marks of the tattooer proclaim his lofty place.
+  I too, in the hands of the cunning, in the sacred cabin of palm,[5]
+  Have shrunk like the mimosa, and bleated like the lamb;
+  Round half my tender body, that none shall clasp but you,
+  For a crest and a fair adornment go dainty lines of blue.
+  Love, love, beloved Rua, love levels all degrees,
+  And the well-tattooed Taheia clings panting to your knees."
+
+  --"Taheia, song of the morning, how long is the longest love?
+  A cry, a clasp of the hands, a star that falls from above!
+  Ever at morn in the blue, and at night when all is black,
+  Ever it skulks and trembles with the hunter, Death, on its track.
+  Hear me, Taheia, death! For to-morrow the priest shall awake,
+  And the names be named of the victims to bleed for the nation's sake;
+  And first of the numbered many that shall be slain ere noon,
+  Rua the child of the dirt, Rua the kinless loon.
+  For him shall the drum be beat, for him be raised the song,
+  For him to the sacred High-place the chanting people throng,
+  For him the oven smoke as for a speechless beast,
+  And the sire of my Taheia come greedy to the feast."
+  "Rua, be silent, spare me. Taheia closes her ears.
+  Pity my yearning heart, pity my girlish years!
+  Flee from the cruel hands, flee from the knife and coal,
+  Lie hid in the deeps of the woods, Rua, sire of my soul!"
+
+  "Whither to flee, Taheia, whither in all of the land?
+  The fires of the bloody kitchen are kindled on every hand;
+  On every hand in the isle a hungry whetting of teeth,
+  Eyes in the trees above, arms in the brush beneath.
+  Patience to lie in wait, cunning to follow the sleuth,
+  Abroad the foes I have fought, and at home the friends of my youth."
+
+  "Love, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer eye,
+  Hence from the arms of love you go not forth to die.
+  There, where the broken mountain drops sheer into the glen,
+  There shall you find a hold from the boldest hunter of men;
+  There, in the deep recess, where the sun falls only at noon,
+  And only once in the night enters the light of the moon,
+  Nor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain when it falls with a shout;
+  For death and the fear of death beleaguer the valley about.
+  Tapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon despair;
+  Tapu, but what of that? If Rua can only dare.
+  Tapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every one right;
+  But the god of every tapu is not always quick to smite.
+  Lie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful gods,
+  Sleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of the kindly sods,
+  Sleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake for you;
+  And whenever the land-wind blows and the woods are heavy with dew,
+  Alone through the horror of night,[6] with food for the soul of her
+      love,
+  Taheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the dove."
+
+  "Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treacherous things,
+  Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of things;
+  The souls of the dead, the stranglers, that perch in the trees of the
+      wood,
+  Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and good."
+
+  "Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and read;
+  Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her lover in need?
+  Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the fight;
+  The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man in the night."
+
+  So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia arose
+  And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as the swallow goes;
+  And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and followed her flight,
+  And there were the lodges below, each with its door alight;
+  From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out the even long
+  Sudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone of song;
+  The quiet passage of souls over his head in the trees;[7]
+  And from all around the haven the crumbling thunder of seas.
+  "Farewell, my home," said Rua. "Farewell, O quiet seat!
+  To-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death shall beat."
+
+
+III
+
+THE FEAST
+
+  Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked peak,
+  And all the village was stirring, for now was the priest to speak.
+  Forth on his terrace he came, and sat with the chief in talk;
+  His lips were blackened with fever, his cheeks were whiter than chalk;
+  Fever clutched at his hands, fever nodded his head,
+  But, quiet and steady and cruel, his eyes shone ruby-red.
+  In the earliest rays of the sun the chief rose up content;
+  Braves were summoned, and drummers; messengers came and went;
+  Braves ran to their lodges; weapons were snatched from the wall;
+  The commons herded together, and fear was over them all.
+  Festival dresses they wore, but the tongue was dry in their mouth,
+  And the blinking eyes in their faces skirted from north to south.
+
+  Now to the sacred enclosure gathered the greatest and least,
+  And from under the shade of the banyan arose the voice of the feast,
+  The frenzied roll of the drum, and a swift monotonous song.
+  Higher the sun swam up; the trade-wind level and strong
+  Awoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the fans aloud,
+  And over the garlanded heads and shining robes of the crowd
+  Tossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the jewels of sun.
+  Forty the tale of the drums, and the forty throbbed like one;
+  A thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even chorus of song,
+  Swift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thousand strong.
+  And the old men leered at the ovens and licked their lips for the food;
+  And the women stared at the lads, and laughed and looked to the wood.
+  As when the sweltering baker, at night, when the city is dead,
+  Alone in the trough of labour treads and fashions the bread;
+  So in the heat, and the reek, and the touch of woman and man,
+  The naked spirit of evil kneaded the hearts of the clan.
+
+  Now cold was at many a heart, and shaking in many a seat;
+  For there were the empty baskets, but who was to furnish the meat?
+  For here was the nation assembled, and there were the ovens anigh,
+  And out of a thousand singers nine were numbered to die.
+  Till, of a sudden, a shock, a mace in the air, a yell,
+  And, struck in the edge of the crowd, the first of the victims fell.[8]
+  Terror and horrible glee divided the shrinking clan,
+  Terror of what was to follow, glee for a diet of man.
+  Frenzy hurried the chant, frenzy rattled the drums;
+  The nobles, high on the terrace, greedily mouthed their thumbs;
+  And once and again and again, in the ignorant crowd below,
+  Once and again and again descended the murderous blow.
+  Now smoked the oven, and now, with the cutting lip of a shell,
+  A butcher of ninety winters jointed the bodies well.
+  Unto the carven lodge, silent, in order due,
+  The grandees of the nation one after one withdrew;
+  And a line of laden bearers brought to the terrace foot,
+  On poles across their shoulders, the last reserve of fruit.
+  The victims bled for the nobles in the old appointed way;
+  The fruit was spread for the commons, for all should eat to-day.
+  And now was the kava brewed, and now the cocoa ran,
+  Now was the hour of the dance for child and woman and man;
+  And mirth was in every heart and a garland on every head,
+  And all was well with the living and well with the eight who were dead.
+  Only the chiefs and the priest talked and consulted a while:
+  "To-morrow," they said, and "To-morrow," and nodded and seemed to smile:
+  "Rua the child of dirt, the creature of common clay,
+  Rua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone to-day."
+  Out of the groves of the valley, where clear the blackbirds sang,
+  Sheer from the trees of the valley the face of the mountain sprang;
+  Sheer and bare it rose, unscalable barricade,
+  Beaten and blown against by the generous draught of the trade.
+  Dawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light,
+  Close on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars at night.
+  Here and there in a cleft clustered contorted trees,
+  Or the silver beard of a stream hung and swung in the breeze,
+  High overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped for the main,
+  And silently sprinkled below in thin perennial rain.
+  Dark in the staring noon, dark was Rua's ravine,
+  Damp and cold was the air, and the face of the cliffs was green.
+  Here, in the rocky pit, accursed already of old,
+  On a stone in the midst of a river, Rua sat and was cold.
+
+  "Valley of mid-day shadows, valley of silent falls,"
+  Rua sang, and his voice went hollow about the walls,
+  "Valley of shadow and rock, a doleful prison to me,
+  What is the life you can give to a child of the sun and the sea?"
+  And Rua arose and came to the open mouth of the glen,
+  Whence he beheld the woods, and the sea, and houses of men.
+  Wide blew the riotous trade, and smelt in his nostrils good;
+  It bowed the boats on the bay, and tore and divided the wood;
+  It smote and sundered the groves as Moses smote with the rod,
+  And the streamers of all the trees blew like banners abroad;
+  And ever and on, in a lull, the trade-wind brought him along
+  A far-off patter of drums and a far-off whisper of song.
+
+  Swift as the swallow's wings, the diligent hands on the drum
+  Fluttered and hurried and throbbed. "Ah, woe that I hear you come,"
+  Rua cried in his grief, "a sorrowful sound to me,
+  Mounting far and faint from the resonant shore of the sea!
+  Woe in the song! for the grave breathes in the singers' breath,
+  And I hear in the tramp of the drums the beat of the heart of death.
+  Home of my youth! no more through all the length of the years,
+  No more to the place of the echoes of early laughter and tears,
+  No more shall Rua return; no more as the evening ends,
+  To crowded eyes of welcome, to the reaching hands of friends."
+
+  All day long from the High-place the drums and the singing came,
+  And the even fell, and the sun went down, a wheel of flame;
+  And night came gleaning the shadows and hushing the sounds of the wood;
+  And silence slept on all, where Rua sorrowed and stood.
+  But still from the shore of the bay the sound of the festival rang,
+  And still the crowd in the High-place danced and shouted and sang.
+
+  Now over all the isle terror was breathed abroad
+  Of shadowy hands from the trees and shadowy snares in the sod;
+  And before the nostrils of night, the shuddering hunter of men
+  Hurried, with beard on shoulder, back to his lighted den.
+  "Taheia, here to my side!"--"Rua, my Rua, you!"
+  And cold from the clutch of terror, cold with the damp of the dew,
+  Taheia, heavy of hair, leaped through the dark to his arms;
+  Taheia leaped to his clasp, and was folded in from alarms.
+
+  "Rua, beloved, here, see what your love has brought;
+  Coming--alas! returning--swift as the shuttle of thought;
+  Returning, alas! for to-night, with the beaten drum and the voice,
+  In the shine of many torches must the sleepless clan rejoice;
+  And Taheia the well-descended, the daughter of chief and priest,
+  Taheia must sit in her place in the crowded bench of the feast."
+  So it was spoken; and she, girding her garment high,
+  Fled and was swallowed of woods, swift as the sight of an eye.
+
+  Night over isle and sea rolled her curtain of stars,
+  Then a trouble awoke in the air, the east was banded with bars;
+  Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain height;
+  Dawn, in the deepest glen, fell a wonder of light;
+  High and clear stood the palms in the eye of the brightening east,
+  And lo! from the sides of the sea the broken sound of the feast!
+  As, when in days of summer, through open windows, the fly
+  Swift as a breeze and loud as a trump goes by,
+  But when frosts in the field have pinched the wintering mouse,
+  Blindly noses and buzzes and hums in the firelit house:
+  So the sound of the feast gallantly trampled at night,
+  So it staggered and drooped, and droned in the morning light.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE RAID
+
+  It chanced that as Rua sat in the valley of silent falls
+  He heard a calling of doves from high on the cliffy walls.
+  Fire had fashioned of yore, and time had broken, the rocks;
+  There were rooting crannies for trees and nesting-places for flocks;
+  And he saw on the top of the cliffs, looking up from the pit of the
+      shade,
+  A flicker of wings and sunshine, and trees that swung in the trade.
+  "The trees swing in the trade," quoth Rua, doubtful of words,
+  "And the sun stares from the sky, but what should trouble the birds?"
+  Up from the shade he gazed, where high the parapet shone,
+  And he was aware of a ledge and of things that moved thereon.
+  "What manner of things are these? Are they spirits abroad by day?
+  Or the foes of my clan that are come, bringing death by a perilous way?"
+
+  The valley was gouged like a vessel, and round like the vessel's lip,
+  With a cape of the side of the hill thrust forth like the bows of a
+      ship.
+  On the top of the face of the cape a volley of sun struck fair,
+  And the cape overhung like a chin a gulf of sunless air.
+  "Silence, heart! What is that?--that, which flickered and shone,
+  Into the sun for an instant, and in an instant gone?
+  Was it a warrior's plume, a warrior's girdle of hair?
+  Swung in the loop of a rope, is he making a bridge of the air?"
+  Once and again Rua saw, in the trenchant edge of the sky,
+  The giddy conjuring done. And then, in the blink of an eye,
+  A scream caught in with the breath, a whirling packet of limbs,
+  A lump that dived in the gulf, more swift than a dolphin swims;
+  And there was a lump at his feet, and eyes were alive in the lump.
+  Sick was the soul of Rua, ambushed close in a clump;
+  Sick of soul he drew near, making his courage stout;
+  And he looked in the face of the thing, and the life of the thing went
+      out.
+  And he gazed on the tattooed limbs, and, behold, he knew the man:
+  Hoka, a chief of the Vais, the truculent foe of his clan:
+  Hoka a moment since that stepped in the loop of the rope,
+  Filled with the lust of war, and alive with courage and hope.
+
+  Again to the giddy cornice Rua lifted his eyes,
+  And again beheld men passing in the armpit of the skies.
+  "Foes of my race!" cried Rua, "the mouth of Rua is true:
+  Never a shark in the deep is nobler of soul than you.
+  There was never a nobler foray, never a bolder plan;
+  Never a dizzier path was trod by the children of man;
+  And Rua, your evil-doer through all the days of his years,
+  Counts it honour to hate you, honour to fall by your spears."
+  And Rua straightened his back. "O Vais, a scheme for a scheme!"
+  Cried Rua and turned and descended the turbulent stair of the stream,
+  Leaping from rock to rock as the water-wagtail at home
+  Flits through resonant valleys and skims by boulder and foam.
+  And Rua burst from the glen and leaped on the shore of the brook,
+  And straight for the roofs of the clan his vigorous way he took.
+  Swift were the heels of his flight, and loud behind as he went
+  Rattled the leaping stones on the line of his long descent.
+  And ever he thought as he ran, and caught at his gasping breath,
+  "O the fool of a Rua, Rua that runs to his death!
+  But the right is the right," thought Rua, and ran like the wind on the
+      foam,
+  "The right is the right for ever, and home for ever home.
+  For what though the oven smoke? And what though I die ere morn?
+  There was I nourished and tended, and there was Taheia born."
+
+  Noon was high on the High-place, the second noon of the feast;
+  And heat and shameful slumber weighed on people and priest;
+  And the heart drudged slow in bodies heavy with monstrous meals;
+  And the senseless limbs were scattered abroad like spokes of wheels;
+  And crapulous women sat and stared at the stones anigh
+  With a bestial droop of the lip and a swinish rheum in the eye.
+  As about the dome of the bees in the time for the drones to fall,
+  The dead and the maimed are scattered, and lie, and stagger, and crawl;
+  So on the grades of the terrace, in the ardent eye of the day,
+  The half-awake and the sleepers clustered and crawled and lay;
+  And loud as the dome of the bees, in the time of a swarming horde,
+  A horror of many insects hung in the air and roared.
+  Rua looked and wondered; he said to himself in his heart:
+  "Poor are the pleasures of life, and death is the better part."
+  But lo! on the higher benches a cluster of tranquil folk
+  Sat by themselves, nor raised their serious eyes, nor spoke:
+  Women with robes unruffled and garlands duly arranged,
+  Gazing far from the feast with faces of people estranged;
+  And quiet amongst the quiet, and fairer than all the fair,
+  Taheia, the well-descended, Taheia, heavy of hair.
+  And the soul of Rua awoke, courage enlightened his eyes
+  And he uttered a summoning shout and called on the clan to rise.
+  Over against him at once, in the spotted shade of the trees,
+  Owlish and blinking creatures scrambled to hands and knees;
+  On the grades of the sacred terrace, the driveller woke to fear,
+  And the hand of the ham-drooped warrior brandished a wavering spear.
+  And Rua folded his arms, and scorn discovered his teeth;
+  Above the war-crowd gibbered, and Rua stood smiling beneath.
+  Thick, like leaves in the autumn, faint, like April sleet,
+  Missiles from tremulous hands quivered around his feet;
+  And Taheia leaped from her place; and the priest, the ruby-eyed,
+  Ran to the front of the terrace, and brandished his arms and cried:
+  "Hold, O fools, he brings tidings!" and "Hold, 'tis the love of my
+      heart!"
+  Till lo! in front of the terrace, Rua pierced with a dart.
+
+  Taheia cherished his head, and the aged priest stood by,
+  And gazed with eyes of ruby at Rua's darkening eye.
+  "Taheia, here is the end, I die a death for a man.
+  I have given the life of my soul to save an unsavable clan.
+  See them, the drooping of hams! behold me the blinking crew;
+  Fifty spears they cast, and one of fifty true!
+  And you, O priest, the foreteller, foretell for yourself if you can,
+  Foretell the hour of the day when the Vais shall burst on your clan!
+  By the head of the tapu cleft, with death and fire in their hand,
+  Thick and silent like ants, the warriors swarm in the land."
+
+  And they tell that when next the sun had climbed to the noonday skies,
+  It shone on the smoke of feasting in the country of the Vais.
+
+
+
+
+TICONDEROGA
+
+A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS
+
+
+TICONDEROGA
+
+  This is the tale of the man
+    Who heard a word in the night
+  In the land of the heathery hills,
+    In the days of the feud and the fight.
+  By the sides of the rainy sea,
+    Where never a stranger came,
+  On the awful lips of the dead,
+    He heard the outlandish name.
+  It sang in his sleeping ears,
+    It hummed in his waking head:
+  The name--Ticonderoga,
+    The utterance of the dead.
+
+
+I
+
+THE SAYING OF THE NAME
+
+  On the loch-sides of Appin,
+    When the mist blew from the sea,
+  A Stewart stood with a Cameron:
+    An angry man was he.
+  The blood beat in his ears,
+    The blood ran hot to his head,
+  The mist blew from the sea,
+    And there was the Cameron dead.
+  "O, what have I done to my friend,
+    O, what have I done to mysel',
+  That he should be cold and dead,
+    And I in the danger of all?
+
+  "Nothing but danger about me,
+    Danger behind and before,
+  Death at wait in the heather
+    In Appin and Mamore,
+  Hate at all of the ferries,
+    And death at each of the fords,
+  Camerons priming gun-locks
+    And Camerons sharpening swords."
+
+  But this was a man of counsel,
+    This was a man of a score,
+  There dwelt no pawkier Stewart
+    In Appin or Mamore.
+  He looked on the blowing mist,
+    He looked on the awful dead,
+  And there came a smile on his face
+    And there slipped a thought in his head.
+
+  Out over cairn and moss,
+    Out over scrog and scaur,
+  He ran as runs the clansman
+    That bears the cross of war.
+  His heart beat in his body,
+    His hair clove to his face,
+  When he came at last in the gloaming
+    To the dead man's brother's place.
+  The east was white with the moon,
+    The west with the sun was red,
+  And there, in the house-doorway,
+    Stood the brother of the dead.
+
+  "I have slain a man to my danger,
+    I have slain a man to my death.
+  I put my soul in your hands,"
+    The panting Stewart saith.
+  "I lay it bare in your hands,
+    For I know your hands are leal;
+  And be you my targe and bulwark
+    From the bullet and the steel."
+
+  Then up and spoke the Cameron,
+    And gave him his hand again:
+  "There shall never a man in Scotland
+    Set faith in me in vain;
+  And whatever man you have slaughtered,
+    Of whatever name or line,
+  By my sword and yonder mountain,
+    I make your quarrel mine.[1]
+  I bid you in to my fireside,
+    I share with you house and hall;
+  It stands upon my honour
+    To see you safe from all."
+
+  It fell in the time of midnight,
+    When the fox barked in the den,
+  And the plaids were over the faces
+    In all the houses of men,
+  That as the living Cameron
+    Lay sleepless on his bed,
+  Out of the night and the other world,
+    Came in to him the dead.
+
+  "My blood is on the heather,
+    My bones are on the hill;
+  There is joy in the home of ravens
+    That the young shall eat their fill.
+  My blood is poured in the dust,
+    My soul is spilled in the air;
+  And the man that has undone me
+    Sleeps in my brother's care."
+  "I'm wae for your death, my brother,
+    But if all of my house were dead,
+  I couldna withdraw the plighted hand,
+    Nor break the word once said."
+
+  "O, what shall I say to our father,
+    In the place to which I fare?
+  O, what shall I say to our mother,
+    Who greets to see me there?
+  And to all the kindly Camerons
+    That have lived and died long-syne--
+  Is this the word you send them,
+    Fause-hearted brother mine?"
+
+  "It's neither fear nor duty,
+    It's neither quick nor dead,
+  Shall gar me withdraw the plighted hand,
+    Or break the word once said."
+
+  Thrice in the time of midnight,
+    When the fox barked in the den,
+  And the plaids were over the faces
+    In all the houses of men,
+  Thrice as the living Cameron
+    Lay sleepless on his bed,
+  Out of the night and the other world
+    Came in to him the dead,
+  And cried to him for vengeance
+    On the man that laid him low;
+  And thrice the living Cameron
+    Told the dead Cameron, no.
+
+  "Thrice have you seen me, brother,
+    But now shall see me no more,
+  Till you meet your angry fathers
+    Upon the farther shore.
+  Thrice have I spoken, and now,
+    Before the cock be heard,
+  I take my leave for ever
+    With the naming of a word.
+  It shall sing in your sleeping ears,
+    It shall hum in your waking head,
+  The name--Ticonderoga,
+    And the warning of the dead."
+
+  Now when the night was over
+    And the time of people's fears,
+  The Cameron walked abroad,
+    And the word was in his ears.
+  "Many a name I know,
+    But never a name like this;
+  O, where shall I find a skilly man
+    Shall tell me what it is?"
+  With many a man he counselled
+    Of high and low degree,
+  With the herdsman on the mountains
+    And the fishers of the sea.
+  And he came and went unweary,
+    And read the books of yore,
+  And the runes that were written of old
+    On stones upon the moor.
+  And many a name he was told,
+    But never the name of his fears--
+  Never, in east or west,
+    The name that rang in his ears:
+  Names of men and of clans;
+    Names for the grass and the tree,
+  For the smallest tarn in the mountains,
+    The smallest reef in the sea:
+  Names for the high and low,
+    The names of the craig and the flat;
+  But in all the land of Scotland,
+    Never a name like that.
+
+
+II
+
+THE SEEKING OF THE NAME
+
+  And now there was speech in the south,
+    And a man of the south that was wise,
+  A periwig'd lord of London,[2]
+    Called on the clans to rise.
+  And the riders rode, and the summons
+    Came to the western shore,
+  To the land of the sea and the heather,
+    To Appin and Mamore.
+  It called on all to gather
+    From every scrog and scaur,
+  That loved their fathers' tartan
+    And the ancient game of war.
+  And down the watery valley
+    And up the windy hill,
+  Once more, as in the olden,
+    The pipes were sounding shrill;
+  Again in Highland sunshine
+    The naked steel was bright;
+  And the lads, once more in tartan,
+    Went forth again to fight.
+
+  "O, why should I dwell here
+    With a weird upon my life,
+  When the clansmen shout for battle
+    And the war-swords clash in strife?
+  I canna joy at feast,
+    I canna sleep in bed,
+  For the wonder of the word
+    And the warning of the dead.
+  It sings in my sleeping ears,
+    It hums in my waking head,
+  The name--Ticonderoga,
+    The utterance of the dead.
+  Then up, and with the fighting men
+    To march away from here,
+  Till the cry of the great war-pipe
+    Shall drown it in my ear!"
+
+  Where flew King George's ensign
+    The plaided soldiers went:
+  They drew the sword in Germany,
+    In Flanders pitched the tent.
+  The bells of foreign cities
+    Rang far across the plain:
+  They passed the happy Rhine,
+    They drank the rapid Main.
+  Through Asiatic jungles
+    The Tartans filed their way,
+  And the neighing of the war-pipes
+    Struck terror in Cathay.[3]
+
+  "Many a name have I heard," he thought,
+    "In all the tongues of men,
+  Full many a name both here and there,
+    Full many both now and then.
+  When I was at home in my father's house,
+    In the land of the naked knee,
+  Between the eagles that fly in the lift
+    And the herrings that swim in the sea,
+  And now that I am a captain-man
+    With a braw cockade in my hat--
+  Many a name have I heard," he thought,
+    "But never a name like that."
+
+
+III
+
+THE PLACE OF THE NAME
+
+  There fell a war in a woody place,
+    Lay far across the sea,
+  A war of the march in the mirk midnight
+    And the shot from behind the tree,
+  The shaven head and the painted face,
+    The silent foot in the wood,
+  In the land of a strange, outlandish tongue
+    That was hard to be understood.
+
+  It fell about the gloaming,
+    The general stood with his staff,
+  He stood and he looked east and west
+    With little mind to laugh.
+  "Far have I been, and much have I seen,
+    And kennt both gain and loss,
+  But here we have woods on every hand
+    And a kittle water to cross.
+  Far have I been, and much have I seen,
+    But never the beat of this;
+  And there's one must go down to that water-side
+    To see how deep it is."
+
+  It fell in the dusk of the night
+    When unco things betide,
+  The skilly captain, the Cameron,
+    Went down to that waterside.
+  Canny and soft the captain went;
+    And a man of the woody land,
+  With the shaven head and the painted face,
+    Went down at his right hand.
+  It fell in the quiet night,
+    There was never a sound to ken;
+  But all of the woods to the right and the left
+    Lay filled with the painted men.
+
+  "Far have I been, and much have I seen,
+    Both as a man and boy,
+  But never have I set forth a foot,
+    On so perilous an employ."
+  It fell in the dusk of the night
+    When unco things betide,
+  That he was aware of a captain-man
+    Drew near to the water-side.
+  He was aware of his coming
+    Down in the gloaming alone;
+  And he looked in the face of the man,
+    And lo! the face was his own.
+  "This is my weird," he said,
+    "And now I ken the worst;
+  For many shall fall the morn,
+    But I shall fall with the first.
+  O, you of the outland tongue,
+    You of the painted face,
+  This is the place of my death;
+    Can you tell me the name of the place?"
+
+  "Since the Frenchmen have been here
+    They have called it Sault-Marie;
+  But that is a name for priests,
+    And not for you and me.
+  It went by another word,"
+    Quoth he of the shaven head:
+  "It was called Ticonderoga
+    In the days of the great dead."
+  And it fell on the morrow's morning,
+    In the fiercest of the fight,
+  That the Cameron bit the dust
+    As he foretold at night;
+  And far from the hills of heather,
+    Far from the isles of the sea,
+  He sleeps in the place of the name
+    As it was doomed to be.
+
+
+
+
+HEATHER ALE
+
+A GALLOWAY LEGEND
+
+
+HEATHER ALE
+
+  From the bonny bells of heather
+    They brewed a drink long-syne,
+  Was sweeter far than honey,
+    Was stronger far than wine.
+  They brewed it and they drank it,
+    And lay in a blessed swound
+  For days and days together
+    In their dwellings underground.
+
+  There rose a king in Scotland,
+    A fell man to his foes,
+  He smote the Picts in battle,
+    He hunted them like roes.
+  Over miles of the red mountain
+    He hunted as they fled,
+  And strewed the dwarfish bodies
+    Of the dying and the dead.
+
+  Summer came in the country,
+    Red was the heather bell;
+  But the manner of the brewing
+    Was none alive to tell.
+  In the graves that were like children's
+    On many a mountain head,
+  The Brewsters of the Heather
+    Lay numbered with the dead.
+
+  The king in the red moorland
+    Rode on a summer's day;
+  And the bees hummed, and the curlews
+    Cried beside the way.
+  The king rode, and was angry,
+    Black was his brow and pale,
+  To rule in a land of heather
+    And lack the Heather Ale.
+
+  It fortuned that his vassals,
+    Riding free on the heath,
+  Came on a stone that was fallen
+    And vermin hid beneath.
+  Rudely plucked from their hiding,
+    Never a word they spoke:
+  A son and his aged father--
+    Last of the dwarfish folk.
+
+  The king sat high on his charger,
+    He looked on the little men;
+  And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
+    Looked at the king again.
+  Down by the shore he had them;
+    And there on the giddy brink--
+  "I will give you life, ye vermin,
+    For the secret of the drink."
+
+  There stood the son and father;
+    And they looked high and low;
+  The heather was red around them,
+    The sea rumbled below.
+  And up and spoke the father,
+    Shrill was his voice to hear:
+  "I have a word in private,
+    A word for the royal ear.
+
+  "Life is dear to the aged,
+    And honour a little thing;
+  I would gladly sell the secret,"
+    Quoth the Pict to the king.
+  His voice was small as a sparrow's,
+    And shrill and wonderful clear;
+  "I would gladly sell my secret,
+    Only my son I fear.
+
+  "For life is a little matter,
+    And death is nought to the young;
+  And I dare not sell my honour
+    Under the eye of my son.
+  Take _him_, O king, and bind him,
+    And cast him far in the deep:
+  And it's I will tell the secret,
+    That I have sworn to keep."
+
+  They took the son and bound him,
+    Neck and heels in a thong,
+  And a lad took him and swung him,
+    And flung him far and strong,
+  And the sea swallowed his body,
+    Like that of a child of ten;--
+  And there on the cliff stood the father,
+    Last of the dwarfish men.
+
+  "True was the word I told you:
+    Only my son I feared;
+  For I doubt the sapling courage
+    That goes without the beard.
+  But now in vain is the torture,
+    Fire shall never avail;
+  Here dies in my bosom
+    The secret of Heather Ale."
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS AT SEA
+
+
+CHRISTMAS AT SEA
+
+  The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
+  The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;
+  The wind was a nor'-wester, blowing squally off the sea;
+  And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.
+
+  They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;
+  But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
+  We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
+  And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.
+
+  All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;
+  All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;
+  All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
+  For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.
+
+  We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared;
+  But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:
+  So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,
+  And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.
+
+  The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
+  The good red fires were burning bright in every 'long-shore home;
+  The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
+  And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.
+
+  The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
+  For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
+  This day of our adversity was blessed Christmas morn,
+  And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born.
+
+  O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,
+  My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;
+  And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
+  Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves.
+
+  And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
+  Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;
+  And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
+  To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day.
+
+  They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
+  "All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call.
+  "By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first mate, Jackson, cried.
+  ... "It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied.
+
+  She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
+  And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood,
+  As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,
+  We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.
+
+  And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,
+  As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
+  But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
+  Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.
+
+
+
+
+NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.--This tale, of which I have not consciously changed a
+single feature, I received from tradition. It is highly popular through
+all the country of the eight Tevas, the clan to which Rahero belonged;
+and particularly in Taiarapu, the windward peninsula of Tahiti, where he
+lived. I have heard from end to end two versions; and as many as five
+different persons have helped me with details. There seems no reason why
+the tale should not be true.
+
+Note 1, page 140. "_The aito_", _quasi_ champion, or brave. One skilled
+in the use of some weapon, who wandered the country challenging
+distinguished rivals and taking part in local quarrels. It was in the
+natural course of his advancement to be at last employed by a chief, or
+king; and it would then be a part of his duties to purvey the victim for
+sacrifice. One of the doomed families was indicated; the aito took his
+weapon and went forth alone; a little behind him bearers followed with
+the sacrificial basket. Sometimes the victim showed fight, sometimes
+prevailed; more often, without doubt, he fell. But whatever body was
+found, the bearers indifferently took up.
+
+Note 2, page 141. "_Pai_", "_Honoura_", and "_Ahupu_". Legendary persons
+of Tahiti, all natives of Taiarapu. Of the first two I have collected
+singular although imperfect legends, which I hope soon to lay before the
+public in another place. Of Ahupu, except in snatches of song, little
+memory appears to linger. She dwelt at least about Tepari,--"the
+sea-cliffs,"--the eastern fastness of the isle; walked by paths known
+only to herself upon the mountains; was courted by dangerous suitors who
+came swimming from adjacent islands, and defended and rescued (as I
+gather) by the loyalty of native fish. My anxiety to learn more of
+"Ahupu Vehine" became (during my stay in Taiarapu) a cause of some
+diversion to that mirthful people, the inhabitants.
+
+Note 3, page 142. "_Covered an oven._" The cooking fire is made in a
+hole in the ground, and is then buried.
+
+Note 4, page 143. "_Flies._" This is perhaps an anachronism. Even
+speaking of to-day in Tahiti, the phrase would have to be understood as
+referring mainly to mosquitoes, and these only in watered valleys with
+close woods, such as I suppose to form the surroundings of Rahero's
+homestead. A quarter of a mile away, where the air moves freely, you
+shall look in vain for one.
+
+Note 5, page 144. "_Hook_" of mother-of-pearl. Bright-hook fishing, and
+that with the spear, appear to be the favourite native methods.
+
+Note 6, page 145. "_Leaves_," the plates of Tahiti.
+
+Note 7, page 146. "_Yottowas_," so spelt for convenience of
+pronunciation, _quasi_ Tacksmen in the Scottish Highlands. The
+organisation of eight sub-districts and eight yottowas to a division,
+which was in use (until yesterday) among the Tevas, I have attributed
+without authority to the next clan (see page 155).
+
+Note 8, page 146. "_Omare_," pronounce as a dactyl. A loaded
+quarterstaff, one of the two favourite weapons of the Tahitian brave;
+the javelin, or casting spear, was the other.
+
+Note 9, page 148. "_The ribbon of light._" Still to be seen (and heard)
+spinning from one marae to another on Tahiti; or so I have it upon
+evidence that would rejoice the Psychical Society.
+
+Note 10, page 149. "_Namunu-ura._" The complete name is Namunu-ura te
+aropa. Why it should be pronounced Namunu, dactylically, I cannot see,
+but so I have always heard it. This was the clan immediately beyond the
+Tevas on the south coast of the island. At the date of the tale the clan
+organisation must have been very weak. There is no particular mention of
+Tamatea's mother going to Papara, to the head chief of her own clan,
+which would appear her natural recourse. On the other hand, she seems to
+have visited various lesser chiefs among the Tevas, and these to have
+excused themselves solely on the danger of the enterprise. The broad
+distinction here drawn between Nateva and Namunu-ura is therefore not
+impossibly anachronistic.
+
+Note 11, page 149. "_Hiopa the king._" Hiopa was really the name of the
+king (chief) of Vaiau; but I could never learn that of the king of
+Paea--pronounce to rhyme with the Indian _ayah_--and I gave the name
+where it was most needed. This note must appear otiose indeed to readers
+who have never heard of either of these two gentlemen; and perhaps there
+is only one person in the world capable at once of reading my verses and
+spying the inaccuracy. For him, for Mr. Tati Salmon, hereditary high
+chief of the Tevas, the note is solely written: a small attention from a
+clansman to his chief.
+
+Note 12, page 150. "_Let the pigs be tapu._" It is impossible to explain
+_tapu_ in a note; we have it as an English word, taboo. Suffice it, that
+a thing which was _tapu_ must not be touched, nor a place that was
+_tapu_ visited.
+
+Note 13, page 155. "_Fish, the food of desire._" There is a special word
+in the Tahitian language to signify _hungering after fish_. I may remark
+that here is one of my chief difficulties about the whole story. How did
+king, commons, women, and all come to eat together at this feast? But
+it troubled none of my numerous authorities; so there must certainly be
+some natural explanation.
+
+Note 14, page 160. "_The mustering word of the clan._"
+
+  _Teva te ua,
+  Teva te matai!_
+
+  Teva the wind,
+  Teva the rain!
+
+Notes 15 and 16, page 165. "_The star of the dead._" Venus as a morning
+star. I have collected much curious evidence as to this belief. The dead
+retain their taste for a fish diet, enter into copartnery with living
+fishers, and haunt the reef and the lagoon. The conclusion attributed to
+the nameless lady of the legend would be reached to-day, under the like
+circumstances, by ninety per cent. of Polynesians: and here I probably
+under-state by one-tenth.
+
+
+NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE
+
+In this ballad I have strung together some of the more striking
+particularities of the Marquesas. It rests upon no authority; it is in
+no sense, like "Rahero," a native story; but a patchwork of details of
+manners and the impressions of a traveller. It may seem strange, when
+the scene is laid upon these profligate islands, to make the story hinge
+on love. But love is not less known in the Marquesas than elsewhere; nor
+is there any cause of suicide more common in the islands.
+
+Note 1, page 169. "_Pit of popoi._" Where the bread-fruit was stored for
+preservation.
+
+Note 2, page 169. "_Ruby-red._" The priest's eyes were probably red from
+the abuse of kava. His beard (_ib._) is said to be worth an estate; for
+the beards of old men are the favourite head-adornment of the
+Marquesans, as the hair of women formed their most costly girdle. The
+former, among this generally beardless and short-lived people, fetch
+to-day considerable sums.
+
+Note 3, page 169. "_Tikis._" The tiki is an ugly image hewn out of wood
+or stone.
+
+Note 4, page 172. "_The one-stringed harp._" Usually employed for
+serenades.
+
+Note 5, page 173. "_The sacred cabin of palm._" Which, however, no woman
+could approach. I do not know where women were tattooed; probably in the
+common house, or in the bush, for a woman was a creature of small
+account. I must guard the reader against supposing Taheia was at all
+disfigured; the art of the Marquesan tattooer is extreme; and she would
+appear to be clothed in a web of lace, inimitably delicate, exquisite in
+pattern, and of a bluish hue that at once contrasts and harmonises with
+the warm pigment of the native skin. It would be hard to find a woman
+more becomingly adorned than "a well-tattooed" Marquesan.
+
+Note 6, page 175. "_The horror of night._" The Polynesian fear of ghosts
+and of the dark has been already referred to. Their life is beleaguered
+by the dead.
+
+Note 7, page 176. "_The quiet passage of souls._" So, I am told, the
+natives explain the sound of a little wind passing overhead unfelt.
+
+Note 8, page 178. "_The first of the victims fell._" Without doubt, this
+whole scene is untrue to fact. The victims were disposed of privately
+and some time before. And indeed I am far from claiming the credit of
+any high degree of accuracy for this ballad. Even in the time of famine,
+it is probable that Marquesan life went far more gaily than is here
+represented. But the melancholy of to-day lies on the writer's mind.
+
+
+NOTES TO TICONDEROGA
+
+INTRODUCTION.--I first heard this legend of my own country from that
+friend of men of letters, Mr. Alfred Nutt, "there in roaring London's
+central stream," and since the ballad first saw the light of day in
+_Scribner's Magazine_, Mr. Nutt and Lord Archibald Campbell have been in
+public controversy on the facts. Two clans, the Camerons and the
+Campbells, lay claim to this bracing story; and they do well: the man
+who preferred his plighted troth to the commands and menaces of the dead
+is an ancestor worth disputing. But the Campbells must rest content:
+they have the broad lands and the broad page of history; this appanage
+must be denied them; for between the name of _Cameron_ and that of
+_Campbell_ the muse will never hesitate.
+
+Note 1, page 191. Mr. Nutt reminds me it was "by my sword and Ben
+Cruachan" the Cameron swore.
+
+Note 2, page 194. "_A periwig'd lord of London._" The first Pitt.
+
+Note 3, page 195. "_Cathay._" There must be some omission in General
+Stewart's charming "History of the Highland Regiments," a book that
+might well be republished and continued; or it scarce appears how our
+friend could have got to China.
+
+
+NOTE TO HEATHER ALE
+
+Among the curiosities of human nature this legend claims a high place.
+It is needless to remind the reader that the Picts were never
+exterminated, and form to this day a large proportion of the folk of
+Scotland, occupying the eastern and the central parts, from the Firth of
+Forth, or perhaps the Lammermoors, upon the south, to the Ord of
+Caithness on the north. That the blundering guess of a dull chronicler
+should have inspired men with imaginary loathing for their own ancestors
+is already strange; that it should have begotten this wild legend seems
+incredible. Is it possible the chronicler's error was merely nominal?
+that what he told, and what the people proved themselves so ready to
+receive, about the Picts, was true or partly true of some anterior and
+perhaps Lappish savages, small of stature, black of hue, dwelling
+underground--possibly also the distillers of some forgotten spirit? See
+Mr. Campbell's "Tales of the West Highlands."
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF TRAVEL
+
+AND OTHER VERSES
+
+
+SONGS OF TRAVEL
+
+
+I
+
+THE VAGABOND
+
+(TO AN AIR OF SCHUBERT)
+
+  Give to me the life I love,
+    Let the lave go by me,
+  Give the jolly heaven above
+    And the byway nigh me.
+  Bed in the bush with stars to see,
+    Bread I dip in the river--
+  There's the life for a man like me,
+    There's the life for ever.
+
+  Let the blow fall soon or late,
+    Let what will be o'er me;
+  Give the face of earth around
+    And the road before me.
+  Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
+    Nor a friend to know me;
+  All I seek, the heaven above
+    And the road below me.
+
+  Or let autumn fall on me
+    Where afield I linger,
+  Silencing the bird on tree,
+    Biting the blue finger.
+  White as meal the frosty field--
+    Warm the fireside haven--
+  Not to autumn will I yield,
+    Not to winter even!
+
+  Let the blow fall soon or late,
+    Let what will be o'er me;
+  Give the face of earth around,
+    And the road before me.
+  Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
+    Nor a friend to know me.
+  All I ask, the heaven above
+    And the road below me.
+
+
+II
+
+YOUTH AND LOVE--I
+
+  Once only by the garden gate
+    Our lips were joined and parted.
+  I must fulfil an empty fate
+    And travel the uncharted.
+
+  Hail and farewell! I must arise,
+    Leave here the fatted cattle,
+  And paint on foreign lands and skies
+    My Odyssey of battle.
+
+  The untented Kosmos my abode,
+    I pass, a wilful stranger:
+  My mistress still the open road
+    And the bright eyes of danger.
+
+  Come ill or well, the cross, the crown,
+    The rainbow or the thunder,
+  I fling my soul and body down
+    For God to plough them under.
+
+
+III
+
+YOUTH AND LOVE--II
+
+  To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.
+  Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,
+  Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,
+  Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land
+  Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.
+
+  Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down,
+  Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate
+  Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on,
+  Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,
+  Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone.
+
+
+IV
+
+  In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand
+          As heretofore:
+  The unremembered tokens in your hand
+          Avail no more.
+
+  No more the morning glow, no more the grace,
+          Enshrines, endears.
+  Cold beats the light of time upon your face
+          And shows your tears.
+
+  He came and went. Perchance you wept a while
+          And then forgot.
+  Ah, me! but he that left you with a smile
+          Forgets you not.
+
+
+V
+
+  She rested by the Broken Brook,
+    She drank of Weary Well,
+  She moved beyond my lingering look,
+    Ah, whither none can tell!
+
+  She came, she went. In other lands,
+    Perchance in fairer skies,
+  Her hands shall cling with other hands,
+    Her eyes to other eyes.
+
+  She vanished. In the sounding town,
+    Will she remember too?
+  Will she recall the eyes of brown
+    As I recall the blue?
+
+
+VI
+
+  The infinite shining heavens
+    Rose and I saw in the night
+  Uncountable angel stars
+    Showering sorrow and light.
+
+  I saw them distant as heaven,
+    Dumb and shining and dead,
+  And the idle stars of the night
+    Were dearer to me than bread.
+
+  Night after night in my sorrow
+    The stars stood over the sea,
+  Till lo! I looked in the dusk
+    And a star had come down to me.
+
+
+VII
+
+  Plain as the glistering planets shine
+    When winds have cleaned the skies,
+  Her love appeared, appealed for mine
+    And wantoned in her eyes.
+
+  Clear as the shining tapers burned
+    On Cytherea's shrine,
+  Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned,
+    And called and conquered mine.
+
+  The beacon-lamp that Hero lit
+    No fairer shone on sea,
+  No plainlier summoned will and wit,
+    Than hers encouraged me.
+
+  I thrilled to feel her influence near,
+    I struck my flag at sight.
+  Her starry silence smote my ear
+    Like sudden drums at night.
+
+  I ran as, at the cannon's roar,
+    The troops the ramparts man--
+  As in the holy house of yore
+    The willing Eli ran.
+
+  Here, lady, lo! that servant stands
+    You picked from passing men,
+  And should you need nor heart nor hands
+    He bows and goes again.
+
+
+VIII
+
+  To you, let snow and roses
+    And golden locks belong.
+  These are the world's enslavers,
+    Let these delight the throng.
+  For her of duskier lustre
+    Whose favour still I wear,
+  The snow be in her kirtle,
+    The rose be in her hair!
+
+  The hue of highland rivers
+    Careering, full and cool,
+  From sable on to golden,
+    From rapid on to pool--
+  The hue of heather-honey,
+    The hue of honey-bees,
+  Shall tinge her golden shoulder,
+    Shall gild her tawny knees.
+
+
+IX
+
+  Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
+          Beauty awake from rest!
+          Let Beauty awake
+          For Beauty's sake
+  In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
+          And the stars are bright in the west!
+
+  Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
+          Awake in the crimson eve!
+          In the day's dusk end
+          When the shades ascend,
+  Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend
+          To render again and receive!
+
+
+X
+
+  I know not how it is with you--
+    I love the first and last,
+  The whole field of the present view,
+    The whole flow of the past.
+
+  One tittle of the things that are,
+    Nor you should change nor I--
+  One pebble in our path--one star
+    In all our heaven of sky.
+
+  Our lives, and every day and hour,
+    One symphony appear:
+  One road, one garden--every flower
+    And every bramble dear.
+
+
+XI
+
+  I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
+  Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
+  I will make a palace fit for you and me
+  Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
+
+  I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
+  Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
+  And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
+  In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
+
+  And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
+  The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
+  That only I remember, that only you admire,
+  Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
+
+
+XII
+
+WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE
+
+(TO AN AIR OF DIABELLI)
+
+  Berried brake and reedy island,
+    Heaven below, and only heaven above,
+  Through the sky's inverted azure
+    Softly swam the boat that bore our love.
+          Bright were your eyes as the day;
+          Bright ran the stream,
+          Bright hung the sky above.
+  Days of April, airs of Eden,
+    How the glory died through golden hours,
+  And the shining moon arising,
+    How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers!
+          Bright were your eyes in the night:
+          We have lived, my love--
+          O, we have loved, my love.
+
+  Frost has bound our flowing river,
+    Snow has whitened all our island brake,
+  And beside the winter fagot
+    Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake.
+          Still, in the river of dreams,
+          Swims the boat of love--
+          Hark! chimes the falling oar!
+  And again in winter evens
+    When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds,
+  In those ears of aged lovers
+    Love's own river warbles in the reeds.
+          Love still the past, O my love!
+          We have lived of yore,
+          O, we have loved of yore.
+
+
+XIII
+
+MATER TRIUMPHANS
+
+  Son of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and fife,
+  To taste the colour of love and the other side of life--
+  From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the frail,
+  Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male.
+
+  The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like nail on each,
+  The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech;
+  Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the sword!
+  Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord.
+
+  Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed priest,
+  Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast.
+  You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings,
+  You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of kings.
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Bright is the ring of words
+    When the right man rings them,
+  Fair the fall of songs
+    When the singer sings them.
+  Still they are carolled and said--
+    On wings they are carried--
+  After the singer is dead
+    And the maker buried.
+
+  Low as the singer lies
+    In the field of heather,
+  Songs of his fashion bring
+    The swains together.
+  And when the west is red
+    With the sunset embers,
+  The lover lingers and sings
+    And the maid remembers.
+
+
+XV
+
+  In the highlands, in the country places,
+  Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
+  And the young fair maidens
+  Quiet eyes;
+  Where essential silence cheers and blesses,
+  And for ever in the hill-recesses
+  _Her_ more lovely music
+  Broods and dies.
+
+  O to mount again where erst I haunted;
+  Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,
+  And the low green meadows
+  Bright with sward;
+  And when even dies, the million-tinted,
+  And the night has come, and planets glinted,
+  Lo, the valley hollow
+  Lamp-bestarred!
+
+  O to dream, O to awake and wander
+  There, and with delight to take and render,
+  Through the trance of silence,
+  Quiet breath;
+  Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,
+  Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;
+  Only winds and rivers,
+  Life and death.
+
+
+XVI
+
+(TO THE TUNE OF WANDERING WILLIE)
+
+  Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
+    Hunger my driver, I go where I must.
+  Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather;
+    Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust.
+  Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree,
+    The true word of welcome was spoken in the door--
+  Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight,
+    Kind folks of old, you come again no more.
+
+  Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,
+    Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.
+  Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
+    Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.
+  Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,
+    Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold.
+  Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,
+    The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.
+
+  Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor-fowl,
+    Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers;
+  Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,
+    Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours;
+  Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood--
+    Fair shine the day on the house with open door;
+  Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney--
+    But I go for ever and come again no more.
+
+
+XVII
+
+WINTER
+
+  In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
+  The redbreast looks in vain
+  For hips and haws,
+  Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane
+  The silver pencil of the winter draws.
+
+  When all the snowy hill
+  And the bare woods are still;
+  When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs,
+  And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire,
+  Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs--
+  More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire!
+
+    SARANAC LAKE.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  The stormy evening closes now in vain,
+  Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain,
+          While here in sheltered house
+          With fire-ypainted walls,
+          I hear the wind abroad,
+          I hark the calling squalls--
+  "Blow, blow," I cry, "you burst your cheeks in vain!
+  Blow, blow," I cry, "my love is home again!"
+
+  Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight
+  Bore still the precious freight of my delight,
+          That here in sheltered house
+          With fire-ypainted walls,
+          Now hears the wind abroad,
+          Now harks the calling squalls.
+  "Blow, blow," I cry, "in vain you rouse the sea,
+  My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!"
+
+
+XIX
+
+TO DR. HAKE
+
+(ON RECEIVING A COPY OF VERSES)
+
+  In the beloved hour that ushers day,
+  In the pure dew, under the breaking grey,
+  One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake,
+  With brief reveille summons all the brake:
+  _Chirp_, _chirp_, it goes; nor waits an answer long;
+  And that small signal fills the grove with song.
+
+  Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two;
+  It scarce was music, but 'twas all I knew.
+  It was not music, for I lacked the art,
+  Yet what but frozen music filled my heart?
+  _Chirp_, _chirp_, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain;
+  But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain,
+  For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale,
+  All silent, sat an ancient nightingale.
+  My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke;
+  And with a tide of song his silence broke.
+
+
+XX
+
+TO ----
+
+  I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills;
+  I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure,
+  In peace or war a Roman full equipt;
+  And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings
+  Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth,
+  From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words.
+  What, what, was I to honour thee? A child;
+  A youth in ardour but a child in strength,
+  Who after virtue's golden chariot-wheels
+  Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal.
+  So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart.
+
+  Since then my steps have visited that flood
+  Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease,
+  The voices and the tears of life expire.
+  Thither the prints go down, the hero's way
+  Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid's:
+  Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood,
+  And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers,
+  That here his hunting closes with the great:
+  So one and all go down, nor aught returns.
+
+  For thee, for us, the sacred river waits,
+  For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend;
+  There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs
+  He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides;
+  Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in.
+  So when, beside that margin, I discard
+  My more than mortal weakness, and with thee
+  Through that still land unfearing I advance;
+  If then at all we keep the touch of joy,
+  Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered--I,
+  O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged.
+
+
+XXI
+
+  The morning drum-call on my eager ear
+  Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew
+  Lies yet undried along my field of noon.
+  But now I pause at whiles in what I do,
+  And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear
+  (My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon.
+
+
+XXII
+
+  I have trod the upward and the downward slope;
+  I have endured and done in days before;
+  I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope;
+  And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  He hears with gladdened heart the thunder
+    Peal, and loves the falling dew;
+  He knows the earth above and under--
+    Sits and is content to view.
+
+  He sits beside the dying ember,
+    God for hope and man for friend,
+  Content to see, glad to remember,
+    Expectant of the certain end.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Farewell, fair day and fading light!
+  The clay-born here, with westward sight,
+  Marks the huge sun now downward soar.
+  Farewell. We twain shall meet no more.
+
+  Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh
+  My late contemned occasion die.
+  I linger useless in my tent:
+  Farewell, fair day, so foully spent!
+
+  Farewell, fair day. If any God
+  At all consider this poor clod,
+  He who the fair occasion sent
+  Prepared and placed the impediment.
+
+  Let Him diviner vengeance take--
+  Give me to sleep, give me to wake
+  Girded and shod, and bid me play
+  The hero in the coming day!
+
+
+XXV
+
+IF THIS WERE FAITH
+
+  God, if this were enough,
+  That I see things bare to the buff
+  And up to the buttocks in mire;
+  That I ask nor hope nor hire,
+  Nut in the husk,
+  Nor dawn beyond the dusk,
+  Nor life beyond death:
+  God, if this were faith?
+
+  Having felt Thy wind in my face
+  Spit sorrow and disgrace,
+  Having seen Thine evil doom
+  In Golgotha and Khartoum,
+  And the brutes, the work of Thine hands,
+  Fill with injustice lands
+  And stain with blood the sea:
+  If still in my veins the glee
+  Of the black night and the sun
+  And the lost battle, run:
+  If, an adept,
+  The iniquitous lists I still accept
+  With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,
+  And still to battle and perish for a dream of good:
+  God, if that were enough?
+
+  If to feel in the ink of the slough,
+  And the sink of the mire,
+  Veins of glory and fire
+  Run through and transpierce and transpire,
+  And a secret purpose of glory in every part,
+  And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;
+  To thrill with the joy of girded men,
+  To go on for ever and fail and go on again,
+  And be mauled to the earth and arise,
+  And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the eyes:
+  With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night
+  That somehow the right is the right
+  And the smooth shall bloom from the rough:
+  Lord, if that were enough?
+
+
+XXVI
+
+MY WIFE
+
+  Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
+  With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
+  Steel-true and blade-straight,
+  The great artificer
+  Made my mate.
+
+  Honour, anger, valour, fire;
+  A love that life could never tire,
+  Death quench or evil stir,
+  The mighty master
+  Gave to her.
+
+  Teacher, tender, comrade, wife,
+  A fellow-farer true through life,
+  Heart-whole and soul-free
+  The august father
+  Gave to me.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+TO THE MUSE
+
+  Resign the rhapsody, the dream,
+    To men of larger reach;
+  Be ours the quest of a plain theme,
+    The piety of speech.
+
+  As monkish scribes from morning break
+    Toiled till the close of light,
+  Nor thought a day too long to make
+    One line or letter bright:
+
+  We also with an ardent mind,
+    Time, wealth, and fame forgot,
+  Our glory in our patience find
+    And skim, and skim the pot:
+
+  Till last, when round the house we hear
+    The evensong of birds,
+  One corner of blue heaven appear
+    In our clear well of words.
+
+  Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart!
+    Sans finish and sans frame,
+  Leave unadorned by needless art
+    The picture as it came.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS
+
+  Since long ago, a child at home,
+  I read and longed to rise and roam,
+  Where'er I went, whate'er I willed,
+  One promised land my fancy filled.
+  Hence the long roads my home I made;
+  Tossed much in ships; have often laid
+  Below the uncurtained sky my head,
+  Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted:
+  And many a thousand hills I crossed
+  And corners turned--Love's labour lost,
+  Till, Lady, to your isle of sun
+  I came not hoping; and, like one
+  Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes,
+  And hailed my promised land with cries.
+
+  Yes, Lady, here I was at last;
+  Here found I all I had forecast:
+  The long roll of the sapphire sea
+  That keeps the land's virginity;
+  The stalwart giants of the wood
+  Laden with toys and flowers and food;
+  The precious forest pouring out
+  To compass the whole town about;
+  The town itself with streets of lawn,
+  Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn,
+  Where the brown children all the day,
+  Keep up a ceaseless noise of play,
+  Play in the sun, play in the rain,
+  Nor ever quarrel or complain;--
+  And late at night, in the woods of fruit,
+  Hark I do you hear the passing flute?
+
+  I threw one look to either hand,
+  And knew I was in Fairyland.
+  And yet one point of being so
+  I lacked. For, Lady (as you know),
+  Whoever by his might of hand
+  Won entrance into Fairyland,
+  Found always with admiring eyes
+  A Fairy princess kind and wise.
+  It was not long I waited; soon
+  Upon my threshold, in broad noon,
+  Gracious and helpful, wise and good,
+  The Fairy Princess Moe stood.[1]
+
+    TANTIRA, TAHITI, _Nov. 5, 1888_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+  [1] This is the same Princess Moe whose charms of person and disposition
+    have been recorded by the late Lord Pembroke in "South Sea Bubbles,"
+    and by M. Pierre Loti in the "Mariage de Loti."
+
+
+XXIX
+
+TO KALAKAUA
+
+(WITH A PRESENT OF A PEARL)
+
+  The Silver Ship, my King--that was her name
+  In the bright islands whence your fathers came[1]--
+  The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides,
+  Below your palace in your harbour rides:
+  And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore,
+  Like eager merchants count their treasures o'er.
+  One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing,
+  Now doubly precious since it pleased a king.
+
+  The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre
+  For bards to give to kings what kings admire.
+  'Tis mine to offer for Apollo's sake;
+  And since the gift is fitting, yours to take.
+  To golden hands the golden pearl I bring:
+  The ocean jewel to the island king.
+
+  HONOLULU, _Feb. 3, 1889_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+  [1] The yacht _Casco_ had been so called by the people of Fakarava in
+    Tahiti.
+
+
+XXX
+
+TO PRINCESS KAIULANI
+
+[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at Waikiki,
+within easy walk of Kaiulani's banyan! When she comes to my land and her
+father's, and the rain beats upon the window (as I fear it will), let
+her look at this page; it will be like a weed gathered and pressed at
+home; and she will remember her own islands, and the shadow of the
+mighty tree; and she will hear the peacocks screaming in the dusk and
+the wind blowing in the palms; and she will think of her father sitting
+there alone.--R. L. S.]
+
+  Forth from her land to mine she goes,
+  The island maid, the island rose,
+  Light of heart and bright of face:
+  The daughter of a double race.
+
+  Her islands here, in Southern sun,
+  Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone,
+  And I, in her dear banyan shade,
+  Look vainly for my little maid.
+
+  But our Scots islands far away
+  Shall glitter with unwonted day,
+  And cast for once their tempests by
+  To smile in Kaiulani's eye.
+
+    HONOLULU.
+
+
+XXXI
+
+TO MOTHER MARYANNE
+
+  To see the infinite pity of this place,
+  The mangled limb, the devastated face,
+  The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod--
+  A fool were tempted to deny his God.
+  He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again,
+  Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain;
+  He marks the sisters on the mournful shores;
+  And even a fool is silent and adores.
+
+    GUEST HOUSE, KALAWAO, MOLOKAI.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+IN MEMORIAM E.H.
+
+  I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare,
+  I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair.
+  Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown,
+  Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the crown.
+
+  The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel of age.
+  Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage.
+  Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest part--
+  At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the heart.
+
+  The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the dust,
+  And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the just;
+  Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair,
+  Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair.
+
+    HONOLULU.
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+(A FRAGMENT)
+
+  Long must elapse ere you behold again
+  Green forest frame the entry of the lane--
+  The wild lane with the bramble and the briar,
+  The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire,
+  The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts,
+  And ramblers' donkey drinking from the ruts:--
+  Long ere you trace how deviously it leads,
+  Back from man's chimneys and the bleating meads
+  To the woodland shadow, to the silvan hush,
+  When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush--
+  Back from the sun and bustle of the vale
+  To where the great voice of the nightingale
+  Fills all the forest like a single room,
+  And all the banks smell of the golden broom;
+  So wander on until the eve descends,
+  And back returning to your firelit friends,
+  You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light,
+  Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy's kite.
+
+  Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise,
+  Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes;
+  The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain
+  And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again.
+  Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard,
+  And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard,
+  And senseless clamour of the calm, at night
+  Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light,
+  In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower
+  Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour....
+
+    SCHOONER _Equator_.
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+TO MY OLD FAMILIARS
+
+  Do you remember--can we e'er forget?--
+  How, in the coiled perplexities of youth,
+  In our wild climate, in our scowling town,
+  We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared?
+  The belching winter wind, the missile rain,
+  The rare and welcome silence of the snows,
+  The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night,
+  The grimy spell of the nocturnal town,
+  Do you remember?--Ah, could one forget!
+  As when the fevered sick that all night long
+  Listed the wind intone, and hear at last
+  The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer
+  Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,--
+  With sudden ardour, these desire the day:
+  So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope;
+  So we, exulting, hearkened and desired.
+  For lo! as in the palace porch of life
+  We huddled with chimeras, from within--
+  How sweet to hear!--the music swelled and fell,
+  And through the breach of the revolving doors
+  What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled!
+
+  I have since then contended and rejoiced;
+  Amid the glories of the house of life
+  Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld:
+  Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes
+  Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love
+  Fall insignificant on my closing ears,
+  What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind
+  In our inclement city? what return
+  But the image of the emptiness of youth,
+  Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice
+  Of discontent and rapture and despair?
+  So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp,
+  The momentary pictures gleam and fade
+  And perish, and the night resurges--these
+  Shall I remember, and then all forget.
+
+    APEMAMA.
+
+
+XXXV
+
+  The tropics vanish, and meseems that I,
+  From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir,
+  Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again.
+  Far set in fields and woods, the town I see
+  Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke,
+  Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort
+  Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills,
+  New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth
+  Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles,
+  And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns.
+
+  There, on the sunny frontage of a hill,
+  Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead,
+  My dead, the ready and the strong of word.
+  Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive;
+  The sea bombards their founded towers; the night
+  Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers,
+  One after one, here in this grated cell,
+  Where the rain erases and the rust consumes,
+  Fell upon lasting silence. Continents
+  And continental oceans intervene;
+  A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle,
+  Environs and confines their wandering child
+  In vain. The voice of generations dead
+  Summons me, sitting distant, to arise,
+  My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace,
+  And, all mutation over, stretch me down
+  In that denoted city of the dead.
+
+    APEMAMA.
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+TO S. C.
+
+  I heard the pulse of the besieging sea
+  Throb far away all night. I heard the wind
+  Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms.
+  I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand,
+  And flailing fans and shadows of the palm;
+  The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault;
+  The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept.
+    The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives,
+  Slept in the precinct of the palisade;
+  Where single, in the wind, under the moon,
+  Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire,
+  Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel.
+    To other lands and nights my fancy turned--
+  To London first, and chiefly to your house,
+  The many-pillared and the well-beloved.
+  There yearning fancy lighted; there again
+  In the upper room I lay, and heard far off
+  The unsleeping city murmur like a shell;
+  The muffled tramp of the Museum guard
+  Once more went by me; I beheld again
+  Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street;
+  Again I longed for the returning morn,
+  The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds,
+  The consentaneous trill of tiny song
+  That weaves round monumental cornices
+  A passing charm of beauty. Most of all,
+  For your light foot I wearied, and your knock
+  That was the glad reveille of my day.
+    Lo, now, when to your task in the great house
+  At morning through the portico you pass,
+  One moment glance, where by the pillared wall
+  Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke,
+  Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument
+  Of faiths forgot and races undivined;
+  Sit now disconsolate, remembering well
+  The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd,
+  The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice,
+  Incessant, of the breakers on the shore.
+  As far as these from their ancestral shrine,
+  So far, so foreign, your divided friends
+  Wander, estranged in body, not in mind.
+
+    APEMAMA.
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA
+
+[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will look in
+vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both set up to be
+in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our separation in verse.
+Whether or not his Majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard
+posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not
+before a year. The following lines represent my part of the contract,
+and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, they may
+entertain a civilised audience. Nothing throughout has been invented or
+exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as the author's muse has
+confined herself to stringing into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or
+heard during two months' residence upon the island.--R. L. S.]
+
+
+  _ENVOI_
+
+    _Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards;
+    And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine,
+    Our now division duly solemnise.
+    Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one:
+    The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate!
+    You to the blinding palace-yard shall call
+    The prefect of the singers, and to him,
+    Listening devout, your valedictory verse
+    Deliver; he, his attribute fulfilled,
+    To the island chorus hand your measures on,
+    Wed now with harmony: so them, at last,
+    Night after night, in the open hall of dance,
+    Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand,
+    Intone and bray and bark. Unfortunate!
+    Paper and print alone shall honour mine._
+
+
+THE SONG
+
+  Let now the King his ear arouse
+  And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows,
+  The while, our bond to implement,
+  My muse relates and praises his descent.
+
+    I
+
+  Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing
+  Who on the lone seas quickened of a King.
+  She, from the shore and puny homes of men,
+  Beyond the climber's sea-discerning ken,
+  Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear,
+  Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near.
+  She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale,
+  The simple sea was void of isle or sail--
+  Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared--
+  When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared.
+  But she, secure in the decrees of fate,
+  Made strong her bosom and received the mate,
+  And, men declare, from that marine embrace
+  Conceived the virtues of a stronger race.
+
+    II
+
+  Her stern descendant next I praise,
+  Survivor of a thousand frays:--
+  In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng;
+  Led and was trusted by the strong;
+  And when spears were in the wood,
+  Like a tower of vantage stood:--
+  Whom, not till seventy years had sped,
+  Unscarred of breast, erect of head,
+  Still light of step, still bright of look,
+  The hunter, Death, had overtook.
+
+    III
+
+  His sons, the brothers twain, I sing.
+  Of whom the elder reigned a King.
+  No Childeric he, yet much declined
+  From his rude sire's imperious mind,
+  Until his day came when he died,
+  He lived, he reigned, he versified.
+  But chiefly him I celebrate
+  That was the pillar of the state,
+  Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien,
+  The peaceful and the warlike scene;
+  And played alike the leader's part
+  In lawful and unlawful art.
+  His soldiers with emboldened ears
+  Heard him laugh among the spears.
+  He could deduce from age to age
+  The web of island parentage;
+  Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance,
+  For any festal circumstance:
+  And fitly fashion oar and boat,
+  A palace or an armour coat.
+  None more availed than he to raise
+  The strong, suffumigating blaze,
+  Or knot the wizard leaf: none more,
+  Upon the untrodden windward shore
+  Of the isle, beside the beating main,
+  To cure the sickly and constrain,
+  With muttered words and waving rods,
+  The gibbering and the whistling gods.
+  But he, though thus with hand and head
+  He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led,
+  And thus in virtue and in might
+  Towered to contemporary sight--
+  Still in fraternal faith and love,
+  Remained below to reach above,
+  Gave and obeyed the apt command,
+  Pilot and vassal of the land.
+
+    IV
+
+  My Tembinok' from men like these
+  Inherited his palaces,
+  His right to rule, his powers of mind,
+  His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined.
+  Stern bearer of the sword and whip,
+  A master passed in mastership,
+  He learned, without the spur of need,
+  To write, to cipher, and to read;
+  From all that touch on his prone shore
+  Augments his treasury of lore,
+  Eager in age as erst in youth
+  To catch an art, to learn a truth,
+  To paint on the internal page
+  A clearer picture of the age.
+  His age, you say? But ah, not so!
+  In his lone isle of long ago,
+  A royal Lady of Shalott,
+  Sea-sundered, he beholds it not;
+  He only hears it far away.
+  The stress of equatorial day
+  He suffers; he records the while
+  The vapid annals of the isle;
+  Slaves bring him praise of his renown,
+  Or cackle of the palm-tree town;
+  The rarer ship and the rare boat
+  He marks; and only hears remote,
+  Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel,
+  The thunder of the turning wheel.
+
+    V
+
+  For the unexpected tears he shed
+  At my departing, may his lion head
+  Not whiten, his revolving years
+  No fresh occasion minister of tears;
+  At book or cards, at work or sport,
+  Him may the breeze across the palace court
+  For ever fan; and swelling near
+  For ever the loud song divert his ear.
+
+    SCHOONER _Equator_, AT SEA.
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+THE WOODMAN
+
+  In all the grove, nor stream nor bird
+  Nor aught beside my blows was heard,
+  And the woods wore their noonday dress--
+  The glory of their silentness.
+  From the island summit to the seas,
+  Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees
+  Groped upward in the gaps. The green
+  Inarboured talus and ravine
+  By fathoms. By the multitude,
+  The rugged columns of the wood
+  And bunches of the branches stood:
+  Thick as a mob, deep as a sea,
+  And silent as eternity.
+
+  With lowered axe, with backward head,
+  Late from this scene my labourer fled,
+  And with a ravelled tale to tell,
+  Returned. Some denizen of hell,
+  Dead man or disinvested god,
+  Had close behind him peered and trod,
+  And triumphed when he turned to flee.
+  How different fell the lines with me!
+  Whose eye explored the dim arcade
+  Impatient of the uncoming shade--
+  Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold,
+  Or mystic lingerer from of old:
+  Vainly. The fair and stately things,
+  Impassive as departed kings,
+  All still in the wood's stillness stood,
+  And dumb. The rooted multitude
+  Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed,
+  Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed
+  No other art, no hope, they knew,
+  Than clutch the earth and seek the blue.
+  'Mid vegetable king and priest
+  And stripling, I (the only beast)
+  Was at the beast's work, killing; hewed
+  The stubborn roots across, bestrewed
+  The glebe with the dislustred leaves,
+  And bade the saplings fall in sheaves;
+  Bursting across the tangled math
+  A ruin that I called a path,
+  A Golgotha that, later on,
+  When rains had watered, and suns shone,
+  And seeds enriched the place, should bear
+  And be called garden. Here and there,
+  I spied and plucked by the green hair
+  A foe more resolute to live,
+  The toothed and killing sensitive.
+  He, semi-conscious, fled the attack;
+  He shrank and tucked his branches back;
+  And straining by his anchor strand,
+  Captured and scratched the rooting hand.
+  I saw him crouch, I felt him bite;
+  And straight my eyes were touched with sight.
+  I saw the wood for what it was;
+  The lost and the victorious cause;
+  The deadly battle pitched in line,
+  Saw silent weapons cross and shine:
+  Silent defeat, silent assault,
+  A battle and a burial vault.
+
+  Thick round me in the teeming mud
+  Briar and fern strove to the blood.
+  The hooked liana in his gin
+  Noosed his reluctant neighbours in:
+  There the green murderer throve and spread,
+  Upon his smothering victims fed,
+  And wantoned on his climbing coil.
+  Contending roots fought for the soil
+  Like frightened demons: with despair
+  Competing branches pushed for air.
+  Green conquerors from overhead
+  Bestrode the bodies of their dead;
+  The Caesars of the silvan field,
+  Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield:
+  For in the groins of branches, lo!
+  The cancers of the orchid grow.
+  Silent as in the listed ring
+  Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling,
+  Dumb as by yellow Hooghly's side
+  The suffocating captives died:
+  So hushed the woodland warfare goes
+  Unceasing; and the silent foes
+  Grapple and smother, strain and clasp
+  Without a cry, without a gasp.
+  Here also sound Thy fans, O God,
+  Here too Thy banners move abroad:
+  Forest and city, sea and shore,
+  And the whole earth, Thy threshing-floor!
+  The drums of war, the drums of peace,
+  Roll through our cities without cease,
+  And all the iron halls of life
+  Ring with the unremitting strife.
+
+  The common lot we scarce perceive.
+  Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve:
+  The bugle calls--we mourn a few!
+  What corporal's guard at Waterloo?
+  What scanty hundreds more or less
+  In the man-devouring Wilderness?
+  What handful bled on Delhi ridge?
+  --See, rather, London, on thy bridge
+  The pale battalions trample by,
+  Resolved to slay, resigned to die.
+  Count, rather, all the maimed and dead
+  In the unbrotherly war of bread.
+  See, rather, under sultrier skies
+  What vegetable Londons rise,
+  And teem, and suffer without sound.
+  Or in your tranquil garden ground,
+  Contented, in the falling gloom,
+  Saunter and see the roses bloom.
+  That these might live, what thousands died!
+  All day the cruel hoe was plied;
+  The ambulance barrow rolled all day;
+  Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay,
+  Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud
+  And bathed in vegetable blood;
+  And the long massacre now at end,
+  See! where the lazy coils ascend,
+  See, where the bonfire sputters red
+  At even, for the innocent dead.
+
+  Why prate of peace? when, warriors all,
+  We clank in harness into hall,
+  And ever bare upon the board
+  Lies the necessary sword.
+  In the green field or quiet street,
+  Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat;
+  Labour by day and wake o' nights,
+  In war with rival appetites.
+  The rose on roses feeds; the lark
+  On larks. The sedentary clerk
+  All morning with a diligent pen
+  Murders the babes of other men;
+  And like the beasts of wood and park,
+  Protects his whelps, defends his den.
+
+  Unshamed the narrow aim I hold;
+  I feed my sheep, patrol my fold;
+  Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks,
+  A pious outlaw on the rocks
+  Of God and morning; and when time
+  Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb
+  Where no undubbed civilian dares,
+  In my war harness, the loud stairs
+  Of honour; and my conqueror
+  Hail me a warrior fallen in war.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+TROPIC RAIN
+
+  As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well,
+  Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell,
+  So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue,
+  So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and clung.
+
+  Sudden the thunder was drowned--quenched was the levin light--
+  And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night.
+  Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen,
+  Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men;
+
+  And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and feared as you fell.
+  You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a bell.
+  You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with brooks.
+  You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks.
+
+  And methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two;
+  And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and dew;
+  And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air;
+  And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair.
+  Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain;
+  And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XL
+
+AN END OF TRAVEL
+
+  Let now your soul in this substantial world
+  Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored;--
+  This spectacle immutably from now
+  The picture in your eye; and when time strikes,
+  And the green scene goes on the instant blind--
+  The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day
+  Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XLI
+
+  We uncommiserate pass into the night
+  From the loud banquet, and departing leave
+  A tremor in men's memories, faint and sweet
+  And frail as music. Features of our face,
+  The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand,
+  Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth:
+  Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude
+  Applauds the new performer. One, perchance,
+  One ultimate survivor lingers on,
+  And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls
+  The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die,
+  He too, returning, through the curtain comes,
+  And the new age forgets us and goes on.
+
+
+XLII
+
+  Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+    Say, could that lad be I?
+  Merry of soul he sailed on a day
+    Over the sea to Skye.
+
+  Mull was astern, Rum on the port,
+    Eigg on the starboard bow;
+  Glory of youth glowed in his soul:
+    Where is that glory now?
+
+  Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+    Say, could that lad be I?
+  Merry of soul he sailed on a day
+    Over the sea to Skye.
+
+  Give me again all that was there,
+    Give me the sun that shone!
+  Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
+    Give me the lad that's gone!
+
+  Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+    Say, could that lad be I?
+  Merry of soul he sailed on a day
+    Over the sea to Skye.
+
+  Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
+    Mountains of rain and sun,
+  All that was good, all that was fair,
+    All that was me is gone.
+
+
+XLIII
+
+TO S.R. CROCKETT
+
+(ON RECEIVING A DEDICATION)
+
+  Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,
+    Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,
+  Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,
+    My heart remembers how!
+
+  Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,
+    Standing-stones on the vacant wine-red moor,
+  Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished races,
+    And winds, austere and pure:
+
+  Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,
+    Hills of home! and to hear again the call;
+  Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,
+    And hear no more at all.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+XLIV
+
+EVENSONG
+
+  The embers of the day are red
+  Beyond the murky hill.
+  The kitchen smokes: the bed
+  In the darkling house is spread:
+  The great sky darkens overhead,
+  And the great woods are shrill.
+  So far have I been led,
+  Lord, by Thy will:
+  So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.
+
+  The breeze from the embalmed land
+  Blows sudden toward the shore,
+  And claps my cottage door.
+  I hear the signal, Lord--I understand.
+  The night at Thy command
+  Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.
+
+    VAILIMA.
+
+
+
+
+ADDITIONAL POEMS
+
+
+ADDITIONAL POEMS
+
+
+A FAMILIAR EPISTLE
+
+  Blame me not that this epistle
+      Is the first you have from me;
+          Idleness hath held me fettered;
+          But at last the times are bettered,
+  And once more I wet my whistle
+      Here in France beside the sea.
+
+  All the green and idle weather,
+      I have had in sun and shower
+          Such an easy, warm subsistence,
+          Such an indolent existence,
+  I should find it hard to sever
+      Day from day and hour from hour.
+
+  Many a tract-provided ranter
+      May upbraid me, dark and sour,
+          Many a bland Utilitarian,
+          Or excited Millenarian,
+  --"_Pereunt et imputantur_"--
+      You must speak to every hour.
+
+  But (the very term's deception)
+      You at least, my Friend, will see
+          That in sunny grassy meadows,
+          Trailed across by moving shadows,
+  To be actively receptive
+      Is as much as man can be.
+
+  He that all the winter grapples
+      Difficulties--thrust and ward--
+          Needs to cheer him thro' his duty
+          Memories of sun and beauty,
+  Orchards with the russet apples
+      Lying scattered on the sward.
+
+  Many such I keep in prison,
+      Keep them here at heart unseen,
+          Till my muse again rehearses
+          Long years hence, and in my verses
+  You shall meet them re-arisen,
+      Ever comely, ever green.
+
+  You know how they never perish,
+      How, in time of later art,
+          Memories consecrate and sweeten
+          Those defaced and tempest-beaten
+  Flowers of former years we cherish
+      Half a life, against our heart.
+
+  Most, those love-fruits withered greenly,
+      Those frail, sickly amourettes,--
+          How they brighten with the distance,
+          Take new strength and new existence,
+  Till we see them sitting queenly
+      Crowned and courted by regrets!
+
+  All that loveliest and best is,
+      Aureole-fashion round their head,
+          They that looked in life but plainly,
+          How they stir our spirits vainly
+  When they come to us, Alcestis--
+      Like returning from the dead!
+
+  Not the old love but another,
+      Bright she comes at memory's call,
+          Our forgotten vows reviving
+          To a newer, livelier living,
+  As the dead child to the mother
+      Seems the fairest child of all.
+
+  Thus our Goethe, sacred master,
+      Travelling backward thro' his youth,
+          Surely wandered wrong in trying
+          To renew the old, undying
+  Loves that cling in memory faster
+      Than they ever lived in truth.
+
+    BOULOGNE-SUR-MER, _September 1872_.
+
+
+II
+
+RONDELS
+
+    1
+
+  Far have you come, my lady, from the town,
+  And far from all your sorrows, if you please,
+  To smell the good sea-winds and hear the seas,
+  And in green meadows lay your body down.
+
+  To find your pale face grow from pale to brown,
+  Your sad eyes growing brighter by degrees;
+  Far have you come, my lady, from the town,
+  And far from all your sorrows, if you please.
+
+  Here in this seaboard land of old renown,
+  In meadow grass go wading to the knees;
+  Bathe your whole soul a while in simple ease;
+  There is no sorrow but the sea can drown;
+  Far have you come, my lady, from the town.
+
+    2
+
+    _Nous n'irons plus au bois_
+  We'll walk the woods no more,
+  But stay beside the fire,
+  To weep for old desire
+  And things that are no more.
+
+      The woods are spoiled and hoar,
+  The ways are full of mire;
+  We'll walk the woods no more,
+  But stay beside the fire.
+      We loved, in days of yore,
+  Love, laughter, and the lyre.
+  Ah God, but death is dire,
+  And death is at the door--
+  We'll walk the woods no more.
+
+    CHATEAU RENARD, _August 1875_.
+
+    3
+
+  Since I am sworn to live my life
+  And not to keep an easy heart,
+  Some men may sit and drink apart,
+  I bear a banner in the strife.
+
+  Some can take quiet thought to wife,
+  I am all day at _tierce_ and _carte_,
+  Since I am sworn to live my life
+  And not to keep an easy heart.
+
+  I follow gaily to the fife,
+  Leave Wisdom bowed above a chart,
+  And Prudence brawing in the mart,
+  And dare Misfortune to the knife,
+  Since I am sworn to live my life.
+
+    4
+
+    OF HIS PITIABLE TRANSFORMATION
+
+  I who was young so long,
+    Young and alert and gay,
+    Now that my hair is grey,
+  Begin to change my song.
+
+  Now I know right from wrong,
+    Now I know _pay_ and _pray_,
+  I who was young so long,
+    Young and alert and gay.
+
+  Now I follow the throng,
+    Walk in the beaten way,
+    Hear what the elders say,
+  And own that I was wrong--
+  I who was young so long.
+
+    1876.
+
+
+III
+
+EPISTLE TO CHARLES BAXTER
+
+  Noo lyart leaves blaw ower the green,
+  Red are the bonny woods o' Dean,
+  An' here we're back in Embro, freen',
+      To pass the winter.
+  Whilk noo, wi' frosts afore, draws in,
+      An' snaws ahint her.
+
+  I've seen 's hae days to fricht us a',
+  The Pentlands poothered weel wi' snaw,
+  The ways half-smoored wi' liquid thaw,
+      An' half-congealin',
+  The snell an' scowtherin' norther blaw
+      Frae blae Brunteelan'.
+
+  I've seen 's been unco sweir to sally,
+  And at the door-cheeks daff an' dally,
+  Seen 's daidle thus an' shilly-shally
+      For near a minute--
+  Sae cauld the wind blew up the valley,
+      The deil was in it!--
+
+  Syne spread the silk an' tak the gate,
+  In blast an' blaudin', rain, deil hae 't!
+  The hale toon glintin', stane an' slate,
+      Wi' cauld an' weet,
+  An' to the Court, gin we 'se be late,
+      Bicker oor feet.
+
+  And at the Court, tae, aft I saw
+  Whaur Advocates by twa an' twa
+  Gang gesterin' end to end the ha'
+      In weeg an' goon,
+  To crack o' what ye wull but Law
+      The hale forenoon.
+
+  That muckle ha', maist like a kirk,
+  I've kent at braid mid-day sae mirk
+  Ye'd seen white weegs an' faces lurk
+      Like ghaists frae Hell,
+  But whether Christian ghaists or Turk,
+      Deil ane could tell.
+
+  The three fires lunted in the gloom,
+  The wind blew like the blast o' doom,
+  The rain upo' the roof abune
+      Played Peter Dick--
+  Ye wad nae'd licht enough i' the room
+      Your teeth to pick!
+
+  But, freend, ye ken how me an' you,
+  The ling-lang lanely winter through,
+  Keep'd a guid speerit up, an' true
+      To lore Horatian,
+  We aye the ither bottle drew
+      To inclination.
+
+  Sae let us in the comin' days
+  Stand sicker on our auncient ways--
+  The strauchtest road in a' the maze
+      Since Eve ate apples;
+  An' let the winter weet our cla'es--
+      We'll weet oor thrapples.
+
+    EDINBURGH, _October 1875_.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE SUSQUEHANNAH AND THE DELAWARE
+
+        Of where or how, I nothing know;
+           And why, I do not care;
+           Enough if, even so,
+        My travelling eyes, my travelling mind can go
+  By flood and field and hill, by wood and meadow fair,
+  Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.
+
+        I think, I hope, I dream no more
+           The dreams of otherwhere,
+           The cherished thoughts of yore;
+        I have been changed from what I was before;
+  And drunk too deep perchance the lotus of the air,
+  Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.
+
+        Unweary, God me yet shall bring
+           To lands of brighter air,
+           Where I, now half a king,
+        Shall with enfranchised spirit loudlier sing,
+  And wear a bolder front than that which now I wear
+  Beside the Susquehannah and along the Delaware.
+
+    _August 1879._
+
+
+V
+
+EPISTLE TO ALBERT DEW-SMITH
+
+  Figure me to yourself, I pray--
+    A man of my peculiar cut--
+  Apart from dancing and deray,[1]
+    Into an Alpine valley shut;
+
+  Shut in a kind of damned Hotel,
+    Discountenanced by God and man;
+  The food?--Sir, you would do as well
+    To cram your belly full of bran.
+
+  The company? Alas, the day
+    That I should dwell with such a crew,
+  With devil anything to say,
+    Nor any one to say it to!
+
+  The place? Although they call it Platz,
+    I will be bold and state my view;
+  It's not a place at all--and that's
+    The bottom verity, my Dew.
+
+  There are, as I will not deny,
+    Innumerable inns; a road;
+  Several Alps indifferent high;
+    The snow's inviolable abode;
+
+  Eleven English parsons, all
+    Entirely inoffensive; four
+  True human beings--what I call
+    Human--the deuce a cipher more;
+
+  A climate of surprising worth;
+    Innumerable dogs that bark;
+  Some air, some weather, and some earth;
+    A native race--God save the mark!--
+
+  A race that works, yet cannot work,
+    Yodels, but cannot yodel right,
+  Such as, unhelp'd, with rusty dirk,
+    I vow that I could wholly smite.
+
+  A river that from morn to night
+    Down all the valley plays the fool;
+  Not once she pauses in her flight,
+    Nor knows the comfort of a pool;
+
+  But still keeps up, by straight or bend,
+    The selfsame pace she hath begun--
+  Still hurry, hurry, to the end--
+    Good God, is that the way to run?
+
+  If I a river were, I hope
+    That I should better realise
+  The opportunities and scope
+    Of that romantic enterprise.
+
+  I should not ape the merely strange,
+    But aim besides at the divine;
+  And continuity and change
+    I still should labour to combine.
+
+  Here should I gallop down the race,
+    Here charge the sterling[2] like a bull;
+  There, as a man might wipe his face,
+    Lie, pleased and panting, in a pool.
+
+  But what, my Dew, in idle mood,
+    What prate I, minding not my debt?
+  What do I talk of bad or good?
+    The best is still a cigarette.
+
+  Me whether evil fate assault,
+    Or smiling providences crown--
+  Whether on high the eternal vault
+    Be blue, or crash with thunder down--
+
+  I judge the best, whate'er befall,
+    Is still to sit on one's behind,
+  And, having duly moistened all,
+    Smoke with an unperturbed mind.
+
+    DAVOS, _November 1880_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+  [1] "The whole front of the house was lighted, and there were pipes
+    and fiddles, and as much dancing and deray within as used to be in
+    Sir Robert's house at Pace and Yule, and such high seasons."--See
+    "Wandering Willie's Tale" in "Redgauntlet," borrowed perhaps from
+    "Christ's Kirk of the Green."
+
+  [2] In architecture, a series of piles to defend the pier of a bridge.
+
+
+VI
+
+ALCAICS TO HORATIO F. BROWN
+
+  Brave lads in olden musical centuries,
+  Sang, night by night, adorable choruses,
+      Sat late by alehouse doors in April
+      Chaunting in joy as the moon was rising:
+
+  Moon-seen and merry, under the trellises,
+  Flush-faced they played with old polysyllables;
+      Spring scents inspired, old wine diluted;
+      Love and Apollo were there to chorus.
+
+  Now these, the songs, remain to eternity,
+  Those, only those, the bountiful choristers
+      Gone--those are gone, those unremembered
+      Sleep and are silent in earth for ever.
+
+  So man himself appears and evanishes,
+  So smiles and goes; as wanderers halting at
+      Some green-embowered house, play their music,
+      Play and are gone on the windy highway;
+
+  Yet dwells the strain enshrined in the memory
+  Long after they departed eternally,
+      Forth-faring tow'rd far mountain summits,
+      Cities of men on the sounding Ocean.
+
+  Youth sang the song in years immemorial;
+  Brave chanticleer, he sang and was beautiful;
+      Bird-haunted, green tree-tops in springtime
+      Heard and were pleased by the voice of singing;
+
+  Youth goes, and leaves behind him a prodigy--
+  Songs sent by thee afar from Venetian
+      Sea-grey lagunes, sea-paven highways,
+      Dear to me here in my Alpine exile.
+
+    DAVOS, _Spring 1881_.
+
+
+VII
+
+A LYTLE JAPE OF TUSHERIE
+
+  _By A. Tusher_
+
+  The pleasant river gushes
+    Among the meadows green;
+  At home the author tushes;
+    For him it flows unseen.
+
+  The Birds among the Bushes
+    May wanton on the spray;
+  But vain for him who tushes
+    The brightness of the day!
+
+  The frog among the rushes
+    Sits singing in the blue.
+  By 'r la'kin! but these tushes
+    Are wearisome to do!
+
+  The task entirely crushes
+    The spirit of the bard:
+  God pity him who tushes--
+    His task is very hard.
+
+  The filthy gutter slushes,
+    The clouds are full of rain,
+  But doomed is he who tushes
+    To tush and tush again.
+
+  At morn with his hair-brushes,
+    Still "tush" he says and weeps;
+  At night again he tushes,
+    And tushes till he sleeps.
+
+  And when at length he pushes
+    Beyond the river dark--
+  'Las, to the man who tushes,
+    "Tush" shall be God's remark!
+
+    HYERES, _May 1883_.
+
+
+VIII
+
+TO VIRGIL AND DORA WILLIAMS
+
+  Here, from the forelands of the tideless sea,
+  Behold and take my offering unadorned.
+  In the Pacific air it sprang; it grew
+  Among the silence of the Alpine air;
+  In Scottish heather blossomed; and at last
+  By that unshapen sapphire, in whose face
+  Spain, Italy, France, Algiers, and Tunis view
+  Their introverted mountains, came to fruit.
+  Back now, my Booklet! on the diving ship,
+  And posting on the rails, to home return,--
+  Home, and the friends whose honouring name you bear.
+
+    HYERES, 1883.
+
+
+IX
+
+BURLESQUE SONNET
+
+TO AENEAS WILLIAM MACKINTOSH
+
+  Thee, Mackintosh, artificer of light,
+      Thee, the lone smoker hails! the student, thee;
+      Thee, oft upon the ungovernable sea,
+  The seaman, conscious of approaching night;
+  Thou, with industrious fingers, hast outright
+      Mastered that art, of other arts the key,
+      That bids thick night before the morning flee,
+  And lingering day retains for mortal sight.
+  O Promethean workman, thee I hail,
+      Thee hallowed, thee unparalleled, thee bold
+      To affront the reign of sleep and darkness old,
+          Thee William, thee AEneas, thee I sing;
+  Thee by the glimmering taper clear and pale,
+      Of light, and light's purveyance, hail, the king.
+
+
+X
+
+THE FINE PACIFIC ISLANDS
+
+(HEARD IN A PUBLIC-HOUSE AT ROTHERHITHE)
+
+  The jolly English Yellowboy
+    Is a 'ansome coin when new,
+  The Yankee Double-eagle
+    Is large enough for two.
+  O, these may do for seaport towns,
+    For cities these may do;
+  But the dibbs that takes the Hislands
+    Are the dollars of Peru:
+          O, the fine Pacific Hislands,
+          O, the dollars of Peru!
+
+  It's there we buy the cocoanuts
+    Mast 'eaded in the blue;
+  It's there we trap the lasses
+    All waiting for the crew;
+  It's there we buy the trader's rum
+    What bores a seaman through....
+  In the fine Pacific Hislands
+    With the dollars of Peru:
+          In the fine Pacific Hislands
+          With the dollars of Peru!
+
+  Now, messmates, when my watch is up,
+    And I am quite broached to,
+  I'll give a tip to 'Evving
+    Of the 'ansome thing to do:
+  Let 'em just refit this sailor-man
+    And launch him off anew
+  To cruise among the Hislands
+    With the dollars of Peru:
+          In the fine Pacific Hislands
+          With the dollars of Peru!
+
+    TAHITI, _August 1888_.
+
+
+XI
+
+AULD REEKIE
+
+  When chitterin' cauld the day sall daw,
+  Loud may your bonny bugles blaw
+      And loud your drums may beat.
+  Hie owre the land at evenfa'
+  Your lamps may glitter raw by raw,
+      Along the gowsty street.
+
+  I gang nae mair where ance I gaed,
+  By Brunston, Fairmileheid, or Braid;
+      But far frae Kirk and Tron.
+  O still ayont the muckle sea,
+  Still are ye dear, and dear to me,
+      Auld Reekie, still and on!
+
+
+XII
+
+THE LESSON OF THE MASTER
+
+TO HENRY JAMES
+
+  Adela, Adela, Adela Chart,
+  What have you done to my elderly heart?
+  Of all the ladies of paper and ink
+  I count you the paragon, call you the pink.
+  The word of your brother depicts you in part:
+  "You raving maniac!" Adela Chart;
+  But in all the asylums that cumber the ground,
+  So delightful a maniac was ne'er to be found.
+
+  I pore on you, dote on you, clasp you to heart,
+  I laud, love, and laugh at you, Adela Chart,
+  And thank my dear maker the while I admire
+  That I can be neither your husband nor sire.
+  Your husband's, your sire's, were a difficult part;
+  You're a byway to suicide, Adela Chart;
+  But to read of, depicted by exquisite James,
+  O, sure you're the flower and quintessence of dames.
+
+    VAILIMA, _October 1891_.
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE CONSECRATION OF BRAILLE
+
+TO MRS. A. BAKER
+
+  I was a barren tree before,
+    I blew a quenched coal,
+  I could not, on their midnight shore,
+    The lonely blind console.
+
+  A moment, lend your hand, I bring
+    My sheaf for you to bind,
+  And you can teach my words to sing
+    In the darkness of the blind.
+
+    VAILIMA, _December 1893_.
+
+
+XIV
+
+SONG
+
+  Light foot and tight foot,
+    And green grass spread,
+  Early in the morning,
+    But hope is on ahead.
+
+  Brief day and bright day,
+    And sunset red,
+  Early in the evening,
+    The stars are overhead.
+
+
+
+
+                 PRINTED BY
+
+  CASSELL & CO., LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE
+
+                LONDON, E.C.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson -
+Swanston Edition Vol. 14 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #30659 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30659)
author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 19:54:12 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 19:54:12 -0700
commit	9df68b1157d0502270982912d00d64de28c6a0ad (patch)
tree	c46d2d56b7cce5e971a42a50dc5b6ab457d34f01