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diff --git a/31890.txt b/31890.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..735f65f --- /dev/null +++ b/31890.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3341 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Song-Surf, by Cale Young Rice + +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: Song-Surf + +Author: Cale Young Rice + +Release Date: April 5, 2010 [EBook #31890] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONG-SURF *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library.) + + + + + + + + +SONG-SURF + +By the Same Author + + Nirvana Days + Yolanda of Cyprus + A Night in Avignon + Charles di Tocca + David + Many Gods + + + + +SONG-SURF + +BY + +CALE YOUNG RICE + + +NEW YORK +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +MCMX + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION +INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN + +COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER, 1910 + + +TO +MY SISTERS + + + + +FOREWORD + + +These poems, first published as "Song-Surf" in 1900, by a firm which +failed before the book, left the press, were republished with additions +as the "lyrics" of "Plays & Lyrics," by Hodder & Stoughton, of London, +in 1905. Revision and omissions have been made for this volume of a +uniform edition in which they now appear. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE +WITH OMAR 3 + +JAEL 16 + +TO THE SEA 22 + +THE DAY-MOON 25 + +A SEA-GHOST 27 + +ON THE MOOR 29 + +THE CRY OF EVE 31 + +MARY AT NAZARETH 35 + +ADELIL 38 + +INTIMATION 40 + +IN JULY 41 + +FROM ABOVE 44 + +BY THE INDUS 45 + +EVOCATION 47 + +THE CHILD GOD GAVE 49 + +THE WINDS 51 + +TRANSCENDED 54 + +LOVE'S WAY TO CHILDHOOD 55 + +AUTUMN 57 + +SHINTO 58 + +MAYA 60 + +A JAPANESE MOTHER 62 + +THE DEAD GODS 64 + +CALL TO YOUR MATE, BOB-WHITE 68 + +THE DYING POET 70 + +THE OUTCAST 73 + +APRIL 76 + +AUGUST GUESTS 78 + +TO A DOVE 79 + +AT TINTERN ABBEY 81 + +OH, GO NOT OUT 83 + +HUMAN LOVE 85 + +ASHORE 86 + +THE VICTORY 88 + +AT WINTER'S END 89 + +MOTHER-LOVE 91 + +TO A SINGING WARBLER 93 + +SONGS TO A. H. R.: + I. THE WORLD'S, AND MINE 95 + II. LOVE-CALL IN SPRING 96 + III. MATING 97 + IV. UNTOLD 98 + V. LOVE-WATCH 99 + VI. AT AMALFI 99 + VII. ON THE PACIFIC 101 + +THE ATONER 103 + +TO THE SPRING WIND 104 + +THE RAMBLE 105 + +RETURN 108 + +LISETTE 111 + +FROM ONE BLIND 113 + +IN A CEMETERY 114 + +WAKING 116 + +STORM-EBB 117 + +LINGERING 119 + +FAUN-CALL 121 + +THE LIGHTHOUSEMAN 123 + +SERENITY 125 + +WANTON JUNE 127 + +SPIRIT OF RAIN 129 + +TEARLESS 131 + +SUNSET-LOVERS 133 + +THE EMPTY CROSS 135 + +UNBURTHENED 137 + +TO HER WHO SHALL COME 139 + +STORM-TWILIGHT 142 + +SLAVES 143 + +AVOWAL TO THE NIGHTINGALE 144 + +BEFORE AUTUMN 147 + +FULFILMENT 149 + +LAST SIGHT OF LAND 151 + +SILENCE 153 + + + + +SONG-SURF + + + + +WITH OMAR + + + I sat with Omar by the Tavern door, + Musing the mystery of mortals o'er, + And soon with answers alternate we strove + Whether, beyond death, Life hath any shore. + + "_Come, fill the cup," said he. "In the fire of Spring + Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling. + The Bird of Time has but a little way + To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing._" + + "The Bird of Time?" I answered. "Then have I + No heart for Wine. Must we not cross the Sky + Unto Eternity upon his wings--Or, + failing, fall into the Gulf and die?" + + "_Ay; so, for the Glories of this World sigh some, + And some for the Prophet's Paradise to come; + But you, Friend, take the Cash--the Credit leave, + Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!_" + + "What! take the Cash and let the Credit go? + Spend all upon the Wine the while I know + A possible To-morrow may bring thirst + For Drink but Credit then shall cause to flow?" + + "_Yea, make the most of what you yet may spend, + Before we too into the Dust descend; + Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, + Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!_" + + "Into the Dust we shall descend--we must. + But can the soul not break the crumbling Crust + In which he is encaged? To hope or to + Despair he will--which is more wise or just?" + + "_The worldly hope men set their hearts upon + Turns Ashes--or it prospers: and anon, + Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, + Lighting a little hour or two--is gone_." + + "Like Snow it comes--to cool one burning Day; + And like it goes--for all our plea or sway. + But flooding tears nor Wine can ever purge + The Vision it has brought to us away." + + "_But to this world we come and Why not knowing, + Nor Whence, like water willy-nilly flowing; + And out of it, as Wind along the waste, + We know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing_." + + "True, little do we know of _Why_ or _Whence_. + But is forsooth our Darkness evidence + There is no Light?--the worm may see no star + Tho' heaven with myriad multitudes be dense." + + "_But, all unasked, we're hither hurried Whence? + And, all unasked, we're Whither hurried hence? + O, many a cup of this forbidden Wine + Must drown the memory of that insolence._" + + "Yet can not--ever! For it is forbid + Still by that quenchless Soul within us hid, + Which cries, 'Feed--feed me not on Wine alone, + For to Immortal Banquets I am bid.'" + + "_Well oft I think that never blows so red + The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled: + That every Hyacinth the Garden wears + Dropt in her lap from some once lovely Head._" + + "Then if, from the dull Clay thro' with Life's throes, + More beautiful spring Hyacinth and Rose, + Will the great Gardener for the uprooted soul + Find Use no sweeter than--useless Repose?" + + "_We cannot know--so fill the cup that clears + To-day of past regret and future fears: + To-morrow!--Why, To-morrow we may be + Ourselves with Yesterday's sev'n thousand Years._" + + "No Cup there is to bring oblivion + More during than Regret and Fear--no, none! + For Wine that's Wine to-day may change and be + Marah before to-morrow's Sands have run." + + "_Myself when young did eagerly frequent + Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument + About it and about: but evermore + Came out by the same Door where in I went._" + + "The doors of Argument may lead Nowhither, + Reason become a Prison where may wither + From sunless eyes the Infinite, from hearts + All Hope, when their sojourn too long is thither." + + "_Up from Earth's Centre thro' the Seventh Gate + I rose, and on the throne of Saturn sate, + And many a Knot unravelled by the Road-- + But not the Master-knot of Human fate._" + + "The Master-knot knows but the Master-hand + That scattered Saturn and his countless Band + Like seeds upon the unplanted heaven's Air: + The Truth we reap from them is Chaff thrice fanned." + + "_Yet if the Soul can fling the Dust aside + And naked on the air of Heaven ride, + Wer't not a shame--wer't not a shame for him + In this clay carcase crippled to abide?_" + + "No, for a day bound in this Dust may teach + More of the Saki's Mind than we can reach + Through aeons mounting still from Sky to Sky-- + May open through all Mystery a breach." + + "_You speak as if Existence closing your + Account, and mine, should know the like no more; + The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has poured + Millions of bubbles like us, and will pour._" + + "Bubbles we are, pricked by the point of Death. + But, in each bubble, may there be no Breath + That lifts it and at last to Freedom flies, + And o'er all heights of Heaven wandereth?" + + "_A moment's halt--a momentary taste + Of Being from the Well amid the Waste-- + And Lo--the phantom Caravan has reached + The Nothing it set out from--Oh, make haste!_" + + "And yet it should be--it should be that we + Who drink shall drink of Immortality. + The Master of the Well has much to spare: + Will He say, 'Taste'--then shall we no more be?" + + "_The Moving Finger writes; and having writ, + Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit + Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, + Nor all your tears wash out a word of it._" + + "And were it other, might we not erase + The Letter of some Sorrow in whose place + No truer sounding, we should fail to spell + The Heart which yearns behind the mock-world's Face?" + + "_Well, this I know; whether the one True Light + Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me, quite, + One flash of it within the Tavern caught + Better than in the Temple lost outright._" + + "In Temple or in Tavern 't may be lost. + And everywhere that Love hath any Cost + It may be found; the Wrath it seems is but + A Cloud whose Dew should make its power most." + + "_But see His Presence thro' Creation's veins + Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains; + Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and + They change and perish all--but He remains._" + + "All--it may be. Yet lie to sleep, and lo, + The soul seems quenched in Darkness--is it so? + Rather believe what seemeth not than seems + Of Death--until we know--_until we know_." + + "_So wastes the Hour--gone in the vain pursuit + Of This and That we strive o'er and dispute. + Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape + Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit._" + + "Better--unless we hope that grief is thrown + Across our Path by urgence of the Unknown, + Lest we may think we have no more to live + And bide content with dim-lit Earth alone." + + "_Then, strange, is't not? that of the myriads who + Before us passed the door of Darkness through + Not one returns to tell us of the Road, + Which to discover we must travel too?_" + + "Such is the Ban! but even though we heard + Love in Life's All we still should crave the word + Of one returned. Yet none is _sure_, we know, + Though they lie deep, they are by Death deterred." + + "_Send then thy Soul through the Invisible + Some letter of the After-life to spell: + And by and by thy Soul returned to thee + But answers, 'I myself am Heaven and Hell.'_" + + "From the Invisible, he does. But sent + Thro' Earth, where living Goodness tho' 'tis blent + With Evil dures, may he not read the Voice, + 'To make thee but for Death were toil ill spent'?" + + "_Well, when the Angel of the darker drink + At last shall find us by the river-brink + And offering his Cup invite our souls + Forth to our lips to quaff, we shall not shrink._" + + "No. But if in the sable Cup we knew + Death without waking were the wilful brew, + Nobler it were to curse as Coward Him + Who roused us into light--then light withdrew." + + "_Then Thou who didst with pitfall and with gin + Beset the Road I was to wander in, + Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round + Enmesh, and then impute my fall to sin._" + + "He will not. If one evil we endure + To ultimate Debasing, oh, be sure + 'Tis not of Him predestined, and the sin + Not His nor ours--but Fate's He could not cure." + + "_Yet, ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! + That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close! + The Nightingale that on the branches sang, + Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows?_" + + "So does it seem--no other joys like these! + Yet Summer comes, and Autumn's honoured ease; + And wintry Age, is't ever whisperless + Of that Last Spring, whose Verdure may not cease?" + + "_Still, would some winged Angel ere too late + Arrest the yet unfolded roll of Fate, + And make the stern Recorder otherwise + Enregister, or quite obliterate!_" + + "To otherwise enregister believe + He toils eternally, nor asks Reprieve. + And could Creation perfect from his hands + Have come at Dawn, none overmuch should grieve." + + So till the wan and early scent of day + We strove, and silent turned at last away, + Thinking how men in ages yet unborn + Would ask and answer--trust and doubt and pray. + + + + +JAEL + + + Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen? + I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate. + But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathen + His spirit--by night and by day come voices that wait. + + + Athirst and affrightened he fled from the star-wrought waters of Kishon. + His face was as wool when he swooned at the door of my tent. + The Lord hath given him into the hand of perdition, + I smiled--but he saw not the face of my cunning intent. + + He thirsted for water: I fed him the curdless milk of the cattle. + He lay in the tent under purple and crimson of Tyre. + He slept and he dreamt of the surge and storming of battle. + Ah ha! but he woke not to waken Jehovah's ire. + + He slept as he were a chosen of Israel's God Almighty. + A dog out of Canaan!--thought he I was woman alone? + I slipt like an asp to his ear and laughed for the sight he + Would give when the carrion kites should tear to his bone. + + I smote thro' his temple the nail, to the dust, a worm, did I bind him. + My heart was a-leap with rage and a-quiver with scorn. + And I danced with a holy delight before and behind him-- + I that am called blessed o'er all unto Judah born. + + "Aye, come, I will show thee, O Barak, a woman is more than a warrior," + I cried as I lifted the door wherein Sisera lay. + "To me did he fly and I shall be called his destroyer-- + I, Jael, who am subtle to find for the Lord a way!" + + "Above all the daughters of men be blest--of Gilead or Asshur," + Sang Deborah, prophetess, then, from her waving palm. + "Behold her, ye people, behold her the heathen's abasher; + Behold her the Lord hath uplifted--behold and be calm! + + "The mother of him at the window looks out thro' the lattice to listen-- + Why roll not the wheels of his chariot? why does he stay? + Shall he not return with the booty of battle, and glisten + In songs of his triumph--ye women, why do ye not say?" + + And I was as she who danced when the Seas were rended asunder + And stood, until Egypt pressed in to be drowned unto death. + My breasts were as fire with the glory, the rocks that were under + My feet grew quick with the gloating that beat in my breath. + + At night I stole out where they cast him, a sop to the jackal and raven. + But his bones stood up in the moon and I shook with affright. + The strength shrank out of my limbs and I fell, a craven, + Before him--the nail in his temple gleamed bloodily bright. + + Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen? + I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate. + But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathen + His spirit--by day and by night come voices that wait. + + I fly to the desert, I fly to the mountain--but they will not hide me. + His gods haunt the winds and the caves with vengeance that cries + For judgment upon me; the stars in their courses deride me-- + The stars Thou hast hung with a breath in the wandering skies. + + Jehovah! Jehovah! I slew him, the scourge and sting of Thy Nation. + Take from me his spirit, take from me the voice of his blood. + With madness I rave--by day and by night, defamation! + Jehovah, release me! Jehovah! if still Thou art God! + + + + +TO THE SEA + + + Art thou enraged, O sea, with the blue peace + Of heaven, so to uplift thine armed waves, + Thy billowing rebellion 'gainst its ease, + And with Tartarean mutter from cold caves, + From shuddering profundities where shapes + Of awe glide thro' entangled leagues of ooze, + To hoot thy watery omens evermore, + And evermore thy moanings interfuse + With seething necromancy and mad lore? + + Or, dost thou labour with the drifting bones + Of countless dead, thou mighty Alchemist, + Within whose stormy crucible the stones + Of sunk primordial shores, granite and schist, + Are crumbled by thine all-abrasive beat? + With immemorial chanting to the moon, + And cosmic incantation, dost thou crave + Rest to be found not till thy wild be strewn + Frigid and desert over earth's last grave? + + Thou seemest with immensity mad, blind-- + With raving deaf, with wandering forlorn; + Parent of Demogorgon whose dire mind + Is night and earthquake, shapeless shame and scorn + Of the o'ermounting birth of Harmony. + Bound in thy briny bed and gnawing earth + With foamy writhing and fierce-panted tides, + Thou art as Fate in torment of a dearth + Of black disaster and destruction's strides. + + And how thou dost drive silence from the world, + Incarnate Motion of all mystery! + Whose waves are fury-wings, whose winds are hurled + Whither thy Ghost tempestuous can see + A desolate apocalypse of death. + Oh, how thou dost drive silence from the world, + With emerald overflowing, waste on waste + Of flashing susurration, dashed and swirled + O'er isles and continents that shrink abased! + + Nay, frustrate Hope art thou, of the Unknown, + Gathered from primal mist and firmament; + A surging shape of Life's unfathomed moan, + Whelming humanity with fears unmeant. + Yet do I love thee, O, above all fear, + And loving thee unconquerably trust + The runes that from thy ageless surfing start + Would read, were they revealed, gust upon gust, + That Immortality is might of heart! + + + + +THE DAY-MOON + + + So wan, so unavailing, + Across the vacant day-blue dimly trailing! + + Last night, sphered in thy shining, + A Circe--mystic destinies divining; + + To-day but as a feather + Torn from a seraph's wing in sinful weather, + + Down-drifting from the portals + Of Paradise, unto the land of mortals. + + Yet do I feel thee awing + My heart with mystery, as thy updrawing + + Moves thro' the tides of Ocean + And leaves lorn beaches barren of its motion; + + Or strands upon near shallows + The wreck whose weirded form at night unhallows + + The fisher maiden's prayers-- + "For _him_!--that storms may take not unawares!" + + So wan, so unavailing, + Across the vacant day-blue dimly trailing! + + But Night shall come atoning + Thy phantom life thro' day, and high enthroning + + Thee in her chambers arrased + With star-hieroglyphs, leave thee unharassed + + To glide with silvery passion, + Till in earth's shadow swept thy glowings ashen. + + + + +A SEA-GHOST + + + Oh, fisher-fleet, go in from the sea + And furl your wings. + The bay is gray with the twilit spray + And the loud surf springs. + + The chill buoy-bell is rung by the hands + Of all the drowned, + Who know the woe of the wind and tow + Of the tides around. + + Go in, go in! Oh, haste from the sea, + And let them rest-- + A son and one who was wed and one + Who went down unblest. + + Aye, even as I, whose hands at the bell + Now labour most. + The tomb has gloom, but Oh, the doom + Of the drear sea-ghost! + + He evermore must wander the ooze + Beneath the wave, + Forlorn--to warn of the tempest born, + And to save--to save! + + Then go, go in! and leave us the sea, + For only so + Can peace release us and give us ease + Of our salty woe. + + + + +ON THE MOOR + + + 1 + + I met a child upon the moor + A-wading down the heather; + She put her hand into my own, + We crossed the fields together. + + I led her to her father's door-- + A cottage mid the clover. + I left her--and the world grew poor + To me, a childless rover. + + + 2 + + I met a maid upon the moor, + The morrow was her wedding. + Love lit her eyes with lovelier hues + Than the eve-star was shedding. + + She looked a sweet good-bye to me, + And o'er the stile went singing. + Down all the lonely night I heard + But bridal bells a-ringing. + + + 3 + + I met a mother on the moor, + By a new grave a-praying. + The happy swallows in the blue + Upon the winds were playing. + + "Would I were in his grave," I said, + "And he beside her standing!" + There was no heart to break if death + For me had made demanding. + + + + +THE CRY OF EVE + + + Down the palm-way from Eden in the mid-night + Lay dreaming Eve by her outdriven mate, + Pillowed on lilies that still told the sweet + Of birth within the Garden's ecstasy. + Pitiful round her face that could not lose + Its memory of God's perfecting was strewn + Her troubled hair, and sigh grieved after sigh + Along her loveliness in the white moon. + Then sudden her dream, too cruelly impent + With pain, broke and a cry fled shuddering + Into the wounded stillness from her lips-- + As, cold, she fearfully felt for his hand, + And tears, that had before ne'er visited + Her lids with anguish, drew from her the moan: + + "Oh, Adam! What have I dreamed? + Now do I understand His words, so dim + To creatures that had quivered but with bliss! + Since at the dusk thy kiss to me, and I + Wept at caresses that were once all joy, + I have slept, seeing through Futurity + The uncreated ages visibly! + Foresuffering phantoms crowded in the womb + Of Time, and all with lamentable mien + Accusing without mercy, thee and me! + And without pity! for tho' some were far + From birth, and without name, others were near-- + Sodom and dark Gomorrah--from whose flames + Fleeing one turned ... how like her look to mine + When the tree's horror trembled on my taste! + And Babylon upbuilded on our sin; + And Nineveh, a city sinking slow + Under a shroud of sandy centuries + That hid me not from the buried cursing eyes + Of women who e'er-bitterly gave birth! + Ah, to be mother of all misery! + To be first-called out of the earth and fail + For a whole world! To shame maternity + For women evermore--women whose tears + Flooding the night, no hope can wipe away! + To see the wings of Death, as, Adam, thou + Hast not, endlessly beating, and to hear + The swooning ages suffer up to God! + And Oh, that birth-cry of a guiltless child + In it are sounding of our sin and woe, + With prophesy of ill beyond all years! + Yearning for beauty never to be seen-- + Beatitude redeemless evermore! + + "And I whose dream mourned with all motherhood + Must hear it soon! Already do soft skill, + Assuasive lulls, enticings and quick tones + Of tenderness--that will like light awake + The folded memory children shall bring + Out of the dark--move in me longingly. + Yet thou, Adam, dear fallen thought of God, + Thou, when thou too shall hear humanity + Cry in thy child, wilt groaning wish the world + Back in unsummoned Void! and, woe! wilt fill + God's ear with troubled wonder and unrest!" + + Softly he soothed her straying hair, and kissed + The fever from her lips. Over the palms + The sad moon poured her peace into their eyes, + Till Sleep, the angel of forgetfulness, + Folded again dark wings above their rest. + + + + +MARY AT NAZARETH + + + I know, Lord, Thou hast sent Him-- + Thou art so good to me!-- + But Thou hast only lent Him, + His heart's for Thee! + + I dared--Thy poor hand-maiden-- + Not ask a prophet-child: + Only a boy-babe laden + For earth--and mild. + + But this one Thou hast given + Seems not for earth--or me! + His lips flame truth from heaven, + And vanity + + Seem all my thoughts and prayers + When He but speaks Thy Law; + Out of my heart the tares + Are torn by awe! + + I cannot look upon Him, + So strangely burn His eyes-- + Hath not some grieving drawn Him + From Paradise? + + For Thee, for Thee I'd live, Lord! + Yet oft I almost fall + Before Him--Oh, forgive, Lord, + My sinful thrall! + + But e'en when He was nursing, + A baby at my breast, + It seemed He was dispersing + The world's unrest. + + Thou bad'st me call Him "Jesus," + And from our heavy sin + I know He shall release us, + From Sheol win. + + But, Lord, forgive! the yearning + That He may sometimes be + Like other children, learning + Beside my knee, + + Or playing, prattling, seeking + For help--comes to my heart.... + Ah sinful, Lord, I'm speaking-- + How good Thou art! + + + + +ADELIL + + + Proud Adelil! Proud Adelil! + Why does she lie so cold? + (I made her shrink, I made her reel, + I made her white lids fold.) + + We sat at banquet, many maids, + She like a Valkyr free. + (I hated the glitter of her braids, + I hated her blue eye's glee!) + + In emerald cups was poured the mead; + Icily blew the night. + (But tears unshed and woes that bleed + Brew bitterness and spite.) + + "A goblet to my love!" she cried, + "Prince where the sea-winds fly!" + (Her love!--it was for that he died, + And for it she should die.) + + She lifted the cup and drank--she saw + A heart within its lees. + (I laughed like the dead who feel the thaw + Of summer in the breeze.) + + They looked upon her stricken still, + And sudden they grew appalled. + ("It is thy lover's heart!" I shrill + As the sea-crow to her called.) + + Palely she took it--did it give + Ease there against her breast? + (Dead--dead she swooned, but I cannot live, + And dead I shall not rest.) + + + + +INTIMATION + + + All night I smiled as I slept, + For I heard the March-wind feel + Blindly about in the trees without + For buds to heal. + + All night in dreams, for I smelt, + In the rain-wet woods and fields, + The coming flowers and the glad green hours + That summer yields. + + All night--and when at dawn + I woke with the blue-bird's cheep, + Winter with all its chill and pall + Seemed but a sleep. + + + + +IN JULY + + + This path will tell me where dark daisies dance + To the white sycamores that dell them in; + Where crow and flicker cry melodious din, + And blackberries in ebon ripeness glance + Luscious enticings under briery green. + It will slip under coppice limbs that lean + Brushingly as the slow-belled heifer pants + Toward weedy water-plants + That shade the pool-sunk creek's reluctant trance. + + I shall find bell-flower spires beside the gap + And lady phlox within the hollow's cool; + Cedar with sudden memories of Yule + Above the tangle tipped with blue skullcap. + The high hot mullein fond of the full sun + Will watch and tell the low mint when I've won + The hither wheat where idle breezes nap, + And fluffy quails entrap + Me from their brood that crouch to escape mishap. + + Then I shall reach the mossy water-way + That gullies the dense hill up to its peak, + There dally listening to the eerie eke + Of drops into cool chalices of clay. + Then on, for elders odorously will steal + My senses till I climb up where they heal + The livid heat of its malingering ray, + And wooingly betray + To memory many a long-forgotten day. + + There I shall rest within the woody peace + Of afternoon. The bending azure frothed + With silveryness, the sunny pastures swathed, + Fragrant with morn-mown clover and seed-fleece; + The hills where hung mists muse, and Silence calls + To Solitude thro' aged forest halls, + Will waft into me their mysterious ease, + And in the wind's soft cease + I shall hear hintings of eternities. + + + + +FROM ABOVE + + + What do I care if the trees are bare + And the hills are dark + And the skies are gray. + + What do I care for chill in the air + For crows that cark + At the rough wind's way. + + What do I care for the dead leaves there-- + Or the sullen road + By the sullen wood. + + There's heart in my heart + To bear my load! + So enough, the day is good! + + + + +BY THE INDUS + + + Thou art late, O Moon, + Late, + I have waited thee long. + The nightingale's flown to her nest, + Sated with song. + The champak hath no odour more + To pour on the wind as he passeth o'er-- + But my heart it will not rest. + + Thou art late, O Love, + Late, + For the moon is a-wane. + The kusa-grass sighs with my sighs, + Burns with my pain. + The lotus leans her head on the stream-- + Shall I not lean to thy breast and dream, + Dream ere the night-cool dies? + + Thou art late, O Death, + Late, + For he did not come! + A pariah is my heart, + Cast from him--dumb! + I cannot cry in the jungle's deep-- + Is it not time for the Tomb--and Sleep? + O Death, strike with thy dart! + + + + +EVOCATION + +(NIKKO, JAPAN, 1905) + + + Dim thro' the mist and cryptomeria + Booms the temple bell, + Down from the tomb of Ieyasue + Yearning, as a knell. + + Down from the tomb where many an aeon + Silently has knelt; + Many a pilgrimage of millions-- + Still about it felt. + + Still, for I see them gather ghostly + Now, as the numb sound + Floats, an unearthly necromancy, + From the past's dead ground. + + See the invisible vast millions, + Hear their soundless feet + Climbing the shrine-ways to the gilded + Carven temple's seat. + + And, one among them--pale among them-- + Passes waning by. + What is it tells me mystically + That strange one was I?... + + Weird thro' the mist and cryptomeria + Dies the bell--'tis dumb. + After how many lives returning + Shall I hither come? + + Hither again! and climb the votive + Ever mossy ways? + Who shall the gods be then, the millions + Meek, entreat or praise? + + + + +THE CHILD GOD GAVE + + + "Give me a little child + To draw this dreary want out of my breast," + I cried to God. + "Give, for my days beat wild + With loneliness that will not rest + But under the still sod!" + + It came--with groping lips + And little fingers stealing aimlessly + About my heart. + I was like one who slips + A-sudden into Ecstasy + And thinks ne'er to depart. + + "Soon he will smile," I said, + "And babble baby love into my ears-- + How it will thrill!" + I waited--Oh, the dread, + The clutching agony, the fears!-- + He was so strange and still. + + Did I curse God and rave + When they came shrinkingly to tell me 'twas + A witless child? + No ... I ... I only gave + One cry ... just one ... I think ... because ... + You know ... he never smiled. + + + + +THE WINDS + + + The East Wind is a Bedouin, + And Nimbus is his steed; + Out of the dusk with the lightning's thin + Blue scimitar he flies afar, + Whither his rovings lead. + The Dead Sea waves + And Egypt caves + Of mummied silence laugh + When he mounts to quench the Siroc's stench + And to wrench + From his clutch the tyrant's staff. + + The West Wind is an Indian brave + Who scours the Autumn's crest. + Dashing the forest down as a slave, + He tears the leaves from its limbs and weaves + A maelstrom for his breast. + Out of the night + Crying to fright + The earth he swoops to spoil-- + There is furious scathe in the whirl of his wrath, + In his path + There is misery and moil. + + The North Wind is a Viking--cold + And cruel, armed with death! + Born in the doomful deep of the old + Ice Sea that froze ere Ymir rose + From Niflheim's ebon breath. + And with him sail + Snow, Frost, and Hail, + Thanes mighty as their lord, + To plunder the shores of Summer's stores-- + And his roar's + Like the sound of Chaos' horde. + + The South Wind is a Troubadour; + The Spring 's his serenade. + Over the mountain, over the moor, + He blows to bloom from the winter's tomb + Blossom and leaf and blade. + He ripples the throat + Of the lark with a note + Of lilting love and bliss, + And the sun and the moon, the night and the noon, + Are a-swoon-- + When he woos them with his kiss. + + + + +TRANSCENDED + + + I who was learned in death's lore + Oft held her to my heart + And spoke of days when we should love no more-- + In the long dust, apart. + + "Immortal?" No--it could not be, + Spirit with flesh must die. + Tho' heart should pray and hope make endless plea, + Reason would still outcry. + + She died. They wrapped her in the dust-- + I heard the dull clod's dole, + And then I knew she lived--that death's dark lust + Could never touch her soul! + + + + +LOVE'S WAY TO CHILDHOOD + + + We are not lovers, you and I, + Upon this sunny lane, + But children who have never known + Love's joy or pain. + + The trees we pass, the summer brook, + The bird that o'er us darts-- + We do not know 'tis they that thrill + Our childish hearts. + + The earth-things have no name for us, + The ploughing means no more + Than that they like to walk the fields + Who plough them o'er. + + The road, the wood, the heaven, the hills + Are not a World to-day-- + But just a place God's made for us + In which to play. + + + + +AUTUMN + + + I know her not by fallen leaves + Or resting heaps of hay; + Or by the sheathing mists of mauve + That soothe the fiery day. + + I know her not by plumping nuts, + By redded hips and haws, + Or by the silence hanging sad + Under the wind's sere pause. + + But by her sighs I know her well-- + They are like Sorrow's breath; + And by this longing, strangely still, + For something after death. + + + + +SHINTO + +(MIYAJIMA, JAPAN, 1905) + + + Lowly temple and torii, + Shrine where the spirits of wind and wave + Find the worship and glory we + Give to the one God great and grave-- + + Lowly temple and torii, + Shrine of the dead, I hang my prayer + Here on your gates--the story see + And answer out of the earth and air. + + For I am Nature's child, and you + Were by the children of Nature built. + Ages have on you smiled--and dew + On you for ages has been spilt-- + + Till you are beautiful as Time + Mossy and mellowing ever makes: + Wrapped as you are in lull--or rhyme + Of sounding drum that sudden breaks. + + This is my prayer then, this: that I + Too may reverence all of life, + Lose no power and miss no high + Awe, of a world with wonder rife! + + That I may build in spirit fair + Temples and torii on each place + That I have loved--Oh, hear it, Air, + Ocean and Earth, and grant your grace! + + + + +MAYA + +(HIROSHIMA, JAPAN, 1905) + + + Pale sampans up the river glide, + With set sails vanishing and slow; + In the blue west the mountains hide, + As visions that too soon will go. + + Across the rice-lands, flooded deep, + The peasant peacefully wades on-- + As, in unfurrowed vales of sleep, + A phantom out of voidness drawn. + + Over the temple cawing flies + The crow with carrion in his beak. + Buddha within lifts not his eyes + In pity or reproval meek; + + Nor, in the bamboos, where they bow + A respite from the blinding sun, + The old priest--dreaming painless how + Nirvana's calm will come when won. + + "All is illusion, _Maya_, all + The world of will," the spent East seems + Whispering in me; "and the call + Of Life is but a call of dreams." + + + + +A JAPANESE MOTHER + +(IN TIME OF WAR) + + + The young stork sleeps in the pine-tree tops, + Down on the brink of the river. + My baby sleeps by the bamboo copse-- + The bamboo copse where the rice field stops: + The bamboos sigh and shiver. + + The white fox creeps from his hole in the hill; + I must pray to Inari. + I hear her calling me low and chill-- + Low and chill when the wind is still + At night and the skies hang starry. + + And ever she says, "He's dead! he's dead! + Your lord who went to battle. + How shall your baby now be fed, + Ukibo fed, with rice and bread-- + What if I hush his prattle?" + + The red moon rises as I slip back, + And the bamboo stems are swaying. + Inari was deaf--and yet the lack, + The fear and lack, are gone, and the rack, + I know not why--with praying. + + For though Inari cared not at all, + Some other god was kinder. + I wonder why he has heard my call, + My giftless call--and what shall befall?... + Hope has but left me blinder! + + + + +THE DEAD GODS + + + I thought I plunged into that dire Abyss + Which is Oblivion, the house of Death. + I thought there blew upon my soul the breath + Of time that was but never more can be. + + Ten thousand years within its void I thought + I lay, blind, deaf, and motionless, until-- + Though with no eye nor ear--I felt the thrill + Of seeing, heard its phantoms move and sigh. + + First one beside me spoke, in tones that told + He once had been a god--"Persephone, + Tear from thy brow its withered crown, for we + Are king and queen of Tartarus no more; + And that wan, shrivelled sceptre in thy hand, + Why dost thou clasp it still? Cast it away, + For now it hath no virtue that can sway + Dull shades or drive the Furies to their spoil. + + "Cast it away, and give thy palm to mine: + Perchance some unobliterated spark + Of memory shall warm this dismal Dark. + Perchance--Vain! vain! love could not light such gloom." + + He sank.... Then in great ruin by him moved + Another as in travail of some thought + Near unto birth; and soon from lips distraught + By aged silence, fell, with hollow woe: + + "Ah, Pluto, dost thou, one time lord of Styx + And Acheron make moan of night and cold? + Were we upon Olympus as of old + Laughter of thee would rock its festal height. + + "But think, think thee of me, to whom or gloom + Or cold were more unknown than impotence! + See the unhurled thunderbolt brought hence + To mock me when I dream I still am Jove!" + + Too much it was: I withered in the breath; + And lay again ten thousand lifeless years; + And then my soul shook, woke--and saw three biers + Chiselled of solid night majestically. + + The forms outlaid upon them were enwound + As with the silence of eternity. + Numbing repose dwelt o'er them like a sea, + That long hath lost tide, wave and roar, in death. + + "Ptah, Ammon, and Osiris are their names," + A spirit hieroglyphed unto my soul. + "Ptah, Ammon, and Osiris--they who stole + The heart of Egypt from the God of gods: + + "Aye, they! and these!" pointing to many wraiths + That stood around--Baal, Ormuzd, Indra, all + Whom frightened ignorance and sin's appall + Had given birth, close-huddled in despair. + + Their eyes were fixed upon a cloven slope + Down whose descent still other forms a-fresh + From earth were drawn, by the unceasing mesh + Of Time to their irrevocable end. + + "They are the gods," one said--"the gods whom men + Still taunt with wails for help."--Then a deep light + Upbore me from the Gulf, and thro' its might + I heard the worlds cry, "God alone is God!" + + + + +CALL TO YOUR MATE, BOB-WHITE + + + O call to your mate, bob-white, bob-white, + And I will call to mine. + Call to her by the meadow-gate, + And I will call by the pine. + + Tell her the sun is hid, bob-white, + The windy wheat sways west. + Whistle again, call clear and run + To lure her out of her nest. + + For when to the copse she comes, shy bird, + With Mary down the lane + I'll walk, in the dusk of the locust tops, + And be her lover again. + + Ay, we will forget our hearts are old, + And that our hair is gray. + We'll kiss as we kissed at pale sunset + That summer's halcyon day. + + That day, can it fade?... ah, bob, bob-white, + Still calling--calling still? + We're coming--a-coming, bent and weighed, + But glad with the old love's thrill! + + + + +THE DYING POET + + + Swing in thy splendour, O silent sun, + Drawing my heart with thee over the west! + Done is its day as thy day is done, + Fallen its quest! + + Swoon into purple and rose, then die: + Tho' to arise again out of the dawn: + Die as I praise thee, ere thro' the Dark Lie + Of death I am drawn! + + Sunk? art thou sunken? how great was life! + I like a child could cry for it again-- + Cry for its beauty, pang, fleeting and strife, + Its women, its men! + + For, how I drained it with love and delight! + Opened its heart with the magic of grief! + Reaped every season--its day and its night! + Loved every sheaf! + + Aye, not a meadow my step has trod, + Never a flower swung sweet to my face, + Never a heart that was touched of God, + But taught me its grace. + + Off from my lids then a moment yet, + Fingering Death, for again I must see + Lifted by memory all that I met + Under Time's lee. + + There!... I'm a child again--fair, so fair! + Under the eyes does a marvel not burn? + Speak they not vision--and frenzy to dare, + That still in me yearn?... + + Youth! my wild youth!--O, blood of my heart, + Still you can answer with swirling the thought! + Still like the mountain-born rapid can dart, + Joyous, distraught!... + + Love, and her face again! there by the wood!-- + Come, thou invisible Dark with thy mask! + Shall I not learn if she lives? and could + I more of thee ask?... + + Turn me away from the ashen west, + Where love's sad planet unveils to the dusk. + Something is stealing like light from my breast-- + Soul from its husk ... + + Soft!... Where the dead feel the buried dead, + Where the high hermit-bell hourly tolls, + Bury me, near to the haunting tread + Of life that o'errolls. + + + + +THE OUTCAST + + + I did not fear, + But crept close up to Christ and said, + "Is he not here?" + + They drew me back-- + The seraphs who had never bled + Of weary lack-- + + But still I cried, + With torn robe, clutching at His feet, + "Dear Christ! He died + + "So long ago! + Is he not here? Three days, unfleet + As mortal flow + + "Of time I've sought-- + Till Heaven's amaranthine ways + Seem as sere nought!" + + A grieving stole + Up from His heart and waned the gaze + Of His clear soul + + Into my eyes. + "He is not here," troubled He sighed. + "For none who dies + + "Beliefless may + Bend lips to this sin-healing Tide, + And live alway." + + Then darkness rose + Within me, and drear bitterness. + Out of its throes + + I moaned, at last, + "Let me go hence! Take off the dress, + The charms Thou hast + + "Around me strown! + Beliefless too am I without + His love--and lone!" + + Unto the Gate + They led me, tho' with pitying doubt. + I did not wait + + But stepped across + Its portal, turned not once to heed + Or know my loss. + + Then my dream broke, + And with it every loveless creed-- + Beneath love's stroke. + + + + +APRIL + + + A laughter of wind and a leaping of cloud, + And April, oh, out under the blue! + The brook is awake and the blackbird loud + In the dew! + + But how does the robin high in the beech, + Beside the wood with its shake and toss, + Know it--the frenzy of bluets to reach + Thro' the moss! + + And where did the lark ever learn his speech? + Up, wildly sweet, he's over the mead! + Is more than the rapture of earth can teach + In its creed? + + I never shall know--I never shall care! + 'Tis, oh, enough to live and to love! + To laugh and warble and dream and dare + Are to prove! + + + + +AUGUST GUESTS + + + The wind slipt over the hill + And down the valley. + He dimpled the cheek of the rill + With a cooling kiss. + Then hid on the bank a-glee + And began to rally + The rushes--Oh, + I love the wind for this! + + A cloud blew out of the west + And spilt his shower + Upon the lily-bud crest + And the clematis. + Then over the virgin corn + Besprinkled a dower + Of dew-gems--And, + I love the cloud for this! + + + + +TO A DOVE + + + 1 + + Thy mellow passioning amid the leaves, + That tremble dimly in the summer dusk, + Falls sad along the oatland's sallow sheaves + And haunts above the runnel's voice a-husk + With plashy willow and bold-wading reed. + The solitude's dim spell it breaketh not, + But softer mourns unto me from the mead + Than airs that in the wood intoning start, + Or breath of silences in dells begot + To soothe some grief-wan soul with sin a-smart. + + + 2 + + A votaress art thou of Simplicity, + Who hath one fane--the heaven above thy nest; + One incense--love; one stealing litany + Of peace from rivered vale and upland crest. + Yea, thou art Hers, who makes prayer of the breeze, + Hope of the cool upwelling from sweet soils, + Faith of the darkening distance, charities + Of vesper scents, and of the glow-worm's throb + Joy whose first leaping rends the care-wound coils + That would earth of its heavenliness rob. + + + 3 + + But few, how few her worshippers! For we + Cast at a myriad shrines our souls, to rise + Beliefless, unanointed, bound not free, + To sacrificing a vain sacrifice! + Let thy lone innocence then quickly null + Within our veins doubt-led and wrong desire-- + Or drugging knowledge that but fills o'erfull + Of feverous mystery the days we drain! + Be thy warm notes like an Orphean lyre + To lead us to life's Arcady again! + + + + +AT TINTERN ABBEY + +(June, 1903) + + + O Tintern, Tintern! evermore my dreams + Troubled by thy grave beauty shall be born; + Thy crumbling loveliness and ivy streams + Shall speak to me for ever, from this morn; + The wind-wild daws about thy arches drifting, + Clouds sweeping o'er thy ruin to the sea, + Gray Tintern, all the hills about thee, lifting + Their misty waving woodland verdancy! + + The centuries that draw thee to the earth + In envy of thy desolated charm, + The summers and the winters, the sky's girth + Of sunny blue or bleakness, seek thy harm. + But would that I were Time, then only tender + Touch upon thee should fall as on I sped; + Of every pillar would I be defender, + Of every mossy window--of thy dead! + + Thy dead beneath obliterated stones + Upon the sod that is at last thy floor, + Who list the Wye not as it lonely moans + Nor heed thy Gothic shadows grieving o'er. + O Tintern, Tintern! trysting-place, where never + Are wanting mysteries that move the breast, + I'll hear thy beauty calling, ah, for ever-- + Till sinks within me the last voice to rest! + + + + +OH, GO NOT OUT + + + Oh, go not out upon the storm, + Go not, my sweet, to Swalchie pool! + A witch tho' she be dead may charm + Thee and befool. + + A wild night 'tis! her lover's moan, + Down under ooze and salty weed, + She'll make thee hear--and then her own! + Till thou shalt heed. + + And it will suck upon thy heart-- + The sorcery within her cry-- + Till madness out of thee upstart, + And rage to die. + + For him she loved, she laughed to death! + And as afloat his chill hand lay, + "Ha, ha! to hell I sent his wraith!" + Did she not say? + + And from his finger strive to draw + The ring that bound him to her spell? + Till on her closed his hand whose awe + No curse could quell? + + Oh, yea! and tho' she struggled pale, + Did it not hold her cold and fast, + Till crawled the tide o'er rock and swale, + To her at last? + + Down in the pool where she was swept + He holds her--Oh, go not a-near! + For none has heard her cry but wept + And died that year. + + + + +HUMAN LOVE + + + We, spoke of God and Fate, + And of that Life--which some await-- + Beyond the grave, + "It will be fair," she said, + "But love is here! + I only crave thy breast + Not God's when I am dead. + For He nor wants nor needs + My little love. + But it may be, if I love thee + And those whose sorrow daily bleeds, + He knows--and somehow heeds!" + + + + +ASHORE + + + What are the heaths and hills to me? + I'm a-longing for the sea! + What are the flowers that dapple the dell, + And the ripple of swallow-wings over the dusk; + What are the church and the folk who tell + Their hearts to God?--my heart is a husk! + (I'm a-longing for the sea!) + + Aye! for there is no peace to me-- + But on the peaceless sea! + Never a child was glad at my knee, + And the soul of a woman has never been mine. + What can a woman's kisses be?-- + I fear to think how her arms would twine. + (I'm a-longing for the sea!) + + So, not a home and ease for me-- + But still the homeless sea! + Where I may swing my sorrow to sleep + In a hammock hung o'er the voice of the waves, + Where I may wake when the tempests heap + And hurl their hate--and a brave ship saves. + (I'm a-longing for the sea!) + + Then when I die, a grave for me-- + But in the graveless sea! + Where is no stone for an eye to spell + Thro' the lichen a name, a date and a verse. + Let me be laid in the deeps that swell + And sigh and wander--an ocean hearse! + (I'm a-longing for the sea!) + + + + +THE VICTORY + + + See, see!--the blows at his breast, + The abyss at his back, + The perils and pains that pressed, + The doubts in a pack, + That hunted to drag him down + Have triumphed? and now + He sinks, who climbed for the crown + To the Summit's brow? + + No!--though at the foot he lies, + Fallen and vain, + With gaze to the peak whose skies + He could not attain, + The victory is, with strength-- + No matter the past!-- + He'd dare it again, the dark length, + And the fall at last! + + + + +AT WINTER'S END + + + The weedy fallows winter-worn, + Where cattle shiver under sodden hay. + The plough-lands long and lorn-- + The fading day. + + The sullen shudder of the brook, + And winds that wring the writhen trees in vain + For drearier sound or look-- + The lonely rain. + + The crows that train o'er desert skies + In endless caravans that have no goal + But flight--where darkness flies-- + From Pole to Pole. + + The sombre zone of hills around + That shrink in misty mournfulness from sight, + With sunset aureoles crowned-- + Before the night. + + + + +MOTHER-LOVE + + + The seraphs would sing to her + And from the River + Dip her cool grails of radiant Life. + The angels would bring to her, + Sadly a-quiver, + Laurels she never had won in earth-strife. + + And often they'd fly with her + O'er the star-spaces-- + Silent by worlds where mortals are pent. + Yea, even would sigh with her, + Sigh with wan faces! + When she sat weeping of strange discontent. + + But one said, "Why weepest thou + Here in God's heaven-- + Is it not fairer than soul can see?" + "'Tis fair, ah!--but keepest thou + Not me depriven + Of some one--somewhere--who needeth most me? + + "For tho' the day never fades + Over these meadows, + Tho' He has robed me and crowned--yet, yet! + Some love-fear for ever shades + All with sere shadows-- + Had I no child _there_--whom I forget?" + + + + +TO A SINGING WARBLER + + + "Beauty! all--all--is beauty?" + Was ever a bird so wrong! + "No young in the nest, no mate, no duty?" + Ribald! is this your song? + + "Glad it is ended," are you? + The Spring and its nuptial fear? + "And freedom is better than love?" beware you, + There will be May next year! + + "Beauty!" again, still "beauty"? + Wait till the winter comes! + Till kestrel and hungry kite seek booty + And the bleak cold benumbs! + + Wait? nay, fling it to heaven + The false little song you prate! + Too sweet are its fancies not to leaven + Even the rudest fate! + + + + +SONGS TO A. H. R. + + +I + +THE WORLD'S, AND MINE + + + The world may hear + The wind at his trees, + The lark in her skies, + The sea on his leas; + May hear Song rise + On words as immortal + As any that sound + Thro' Heaven's Portal. + But I have a music they can never know-- + The touch of you, soul of you, heart of you, Oh! + All else that is said or sung 's but a part of you-- + Be it forever so! + + +II + +LOVE-CALL IN SPRING + + Not only the lark but the robin too + (Oh, heart o' my heart, come into the wood!) + Is singing the air to gladness new + As the breaking bud + And the freshet's flood! + + Not only the peeping grass and the scent-- + (Oh, love o' my life, fly unto me here!) + Of violets coming ere April's spent-- + But the frog's shrill cheer + And the crow's wild jeer! + + Not only the blue, not only the breeze, + (Oh, soul o' my heart, why tarry so long!) + But sun that is sweeter upon the trees + Than rills that throng + To the brooklet's song! + + Oh, heart o' my heart, oh, heart o' my love, + (Oh soul o' my soul, haste unto me, haste!) + For spring is below and God is above-- + But all is a waste + Without thee--haste! + + +III + +MATING + + The bliss of the wind in the redbud ringing! + What shall we do with the April days! + Kingcups soon will be up and swinging-- + What shall we do with May's! + + The cardinal flings, "They are made for mating!" + Out on the bough he flutters, a flame. + Thrush-flutes echo, "For mating's elating! + Love is its other name!" + + They know! know it! but better, oh, better, + Dearest, than ever a bird in Spring, + Know we to make each moment debtor + Unto love's burgeoning! + + +IV + +UNTOLD + + Could I, a poet, + Implant the truth of you, + Seize it and sow it + As Spring on the world. + There were no need + To fling (forsooth) of you + Fancies that only lovers heed! + No, but unfurled, + The bloom, the sweet of you, + (As unto me they are opened oft) + Would with their beauty's breath repeat of you + All that my heart breathes loud or soft! + + +V + +LOVE-WATCH + + My love's a guardian-angel + Who camps about thy heart, + Never to See thine enemy, + Nor from thee turn apart. + + Whatever dark may shroud thee + And hide thy stars away, + With vigil sweet his wings shall beat + About thee till the day. + + +VI + +AT AMALFI + + Come to the window, you who are mine. + Waken! the night is calling. + Sit by me here--with the moon's fair shine + Into your deep eyes falling. + + The sea afar is a fearful gloom; + Lean from the casement, listen! + Anear it breaks with a faery spume, + Spraying the rocks that glisten. + + The little white town below lies deep + As eternity in slumber. + O, you who are mine, how a glance can reap + Beauties beyond all number! + + And, how as sails that at anchor ride + Our spirits rock together + On a sea of love--lit as this tide + With tenderest star-weather! + + Till the gray dawn is redd'ning up, + Over the moon low-lying. + Come, come away--we have drunk the cup: + Ours is the dream undying! + + +VII + +ON THE PACIFIC + + A storm broods far on the foam of the deep; + The moon-path gleams before. + A day and a night, a night and a day, + And the way, love, will be o'er. + + Six thousand wandering miles we have come + And never a sail have seen. + The sky above and the sea below + And the drifting clouds between. + + Yet in our hearts unheaving hope + And light and joy have slept. + Nor ever lonely has seemed the wave + Tho' heaving wild it leapt. + + For there is talismanic might + Within our vows of love + To breathe us over all seas of life-- + On to that Port, above, + + Where the great Captain of all ships + Shall anchor them or send + Them forth on a vaster Voyage, yea, + On one that shall not end. + + And upon _that_ we two, I think, + Together still shall sail. + Oh, may it be, my own, or may + We perish in death's gale! + + + + +THE ATONER + + + Winter has come in sackcloth and ashes + (Penance for Summer's enverdured sheaves). + Bitterly, cruelly, bleakly he lashes + His limbs that are naked of grass and leaves. + + He moans in the forest for sins unforgiven + (Sins of the revelous days of June)-- + Moans while the sun drifts dull from the heaven, + Giftless of heat's beshriving boon. + + Long must he mourn, and long be his scourging, + (Long will the day-god aloof frown cold), + Long will earth listen the rue of his dirging-- + Till the dark beads of his days are told. + + + + +TO THE SPRING WIND + + + Ah, what a changeling! + Yester you dashed from the west, + Altho' it is Spring, + And scattered the hail with maniac zest + Thro' the shivering corn--in scorn + For the labour of God and man. + And now from the plentiful South you haste, + With lovingest fingers, + To ruefully lift and wooingly fan + The lily that lingers a-faint on the stalk: + As if the chill waste + Of the earth's May-dreams, + The flowers so full of her joy, + Were not--as it seems-- + A wanton attempt to destroy. + + + + +THE RAMBLE + + + Down the road which asters tangle, + Thro' the gap where green-briar twines, + By the path where dry leaves dangle + Sere from the ivy vines + + We go--by sedgy fallows + And along the stifled brook, + Till it stops in lushy mallows + Just at the bridge's crook. + + Then, again, o'er fence, thro' thicket, + To the mouth of the rough ravine, + Where the weird leaf-hidden cricket + Chirrs thro' the weirder green, + + There's a way, o'er rocks--but quicker + Is the beat of heart and foot, + As the beams above us flicker + Sun upon moss and root! + + And we leap--as wildness tingles + From the air into our blood-- + With a cry thro' golden dingles + Hid in the heart of the wood. + + Oh, the wood with winds a-wrestle! + With the nut and acorn strown! + Oh, the wood where creepers trestle + Tree unto tree o'ergrown! + + With a climb the ledging summit + Of the hill is reached in glee. + For an hour we gaze off from it + Into the sky's blue sea. + + But a bell and sunset's crimson + Soon recall the homeward path. + And we turn as the glory dims on + The hay-field's mounded math. + + Thro' the soft and silent twilight + We come, to the stile at last, + As the clear undying eyelight + Of the stars tells day is past. + + + + +RETURN + + + Ah, it was here--September + And silence filled the air-- + I came last year to remember, + And muse, hid away from care. + It was here I came--the thistle + Was trusting her seed to the wind; + The quail in the croft gave whistle + As now--and the fields lay thinned. + + I know how the hay was steeping, + Brown mows under mellow haze; + How a frail cloud-flock was creeping + As now over lone sky-ways. + Just there where the catbird's calling + Her mock-hurt note by the shed, + The use-worn wain was stalling + In the weedy brook's dry bed. + + And the cricket, lone little chimer + Of day-long dreams in the vines, + Chirred on like a doting rhymer + O'er-vain of his firstling lines. + He's near me now by the aster, + Beneath whose shadowy spray + A sultry bee seeps faster + As the sun slips down the day. + + And there are the tall primroses + Like maidens waiting to dance. + They stood in the same shy poses + Last year, as if to entrance + The stately mulleins to waken + From death and lead them around: + And still they will stand untaken, + Till drops their gold to the ground. + + Yes, it was here--September + And silence round me yearned. + Again I've come to remember, + Again for musing returned + To the searing fields' assuaging, + And the falling leaves' sad balm: + Away from the world's keen waging-- + To harvest and hills and calm. + + + + +LISETTE + + + Oh ... there was love in her heart--no doubt of it-- + Under the anger. + But see what came out of it! + + Not a knave, he!--A smitten rhyme-smatterer, + Cloaking in languor + And heartache to flatter her. + + And just as a woman will--even the best of them-- + She yielded--brittle. + God spare me the rest of them! + + For! though but kisses--she swore!--he had of her, + Was it so little? + She thought 'twas not bad of her, + + Said I would lavish a burning hour-full + On any grisette. + And silenced me, powerful! + + But she was mine, and blood is inflammable-- + For a Lisette! + My rage was undammable.... + + Could a stiletto's one prick be prettier? + Look at the gaping. + No?--then you're her pitier! + + Pah! she's the better, and I ... I'm your prisoner. + Loose me the strapping-- + I'll lay one more kiss on her. + + + + +FROM ONE BLIND + + + I cannot say thy cheek is like the rose, + Thy hair like rippled sunbeams, and thine eyes + Like violets, April-rich and sprung of God. + My barren gaze can never know what throes + Such boons of beauty waken, tho' I rise + Each day a-tremble with the ruthless hope + That light will pierce my useless lids--then grope + Till night, blind as the worm within his clod. + + Yet unto me thou art not less divine, + I touch thy cheek--and know the mystery hid + Within the twilight breeze; I smooth thy hair + And understand how slipping hours may twine + Themselves into eternity: yea, rid + Of all but love, I kiss thine eyes and seem + To see all beauty God Himself may dream. + Why then should I o'ermuch for earth-sight care? + + + + +IN A CEMETERY + + + When Autumn's melancholy robes the land + With silence, and sad fadings mystical + Of other years move thro' the mellow fields, + I turn unto this meadow of the dead, + Strewn with the leaves stormed from October trees, + And wonder if my resting shall be dug + Here by this cedar's moan or under the sway + Of yonder cypress--lair of winds that rove + As Valkyries sent from Valhalla's court + In search of worthy slain. + And sundry times with questioning I tease + The entombed of their estate--seeking to know + Whether 'tis sweeter in the grave to feel + The oblivion of Nature's silent flow, + Or here to wander wistful o'er her face. + Whether the harvesting of pain and joy + Which men call Life ends so, or whether death + Pours the warm chrism of Immortality + Into each human heart whose glow is spent. + + And oft the Silence hears me. For a voice + Of sighing wind may answer, or a gaze, + Though wordless, from a marble seraph's face. + Or sometimes from unspeakable deeps of gold, + That ebb along the west, revealings wing + And tremble, like ethereal swift tongues + Unskilled of human speech, about my heart-- + Till youth, age, death, even earth's all, it seems, + Are but brave moments wakened in that Soul, + To whom infinities are as a span, + Eternities as bird-flights o'er the sun, + And worlds as sands blown from Sahara's wilds + Into the ceaseless surging of the sea.... + + Then twilight hours lead back my wandered spirit + From out the wilderness of mystery + Whence none may find a path to the Unknown, + And chastened to content I turn me home. + + + + +WAKING + + + Oh, the long dawn, the weary, endless dawn, + When sleep's oblivion is torn away + From love that died with dying yesterday + But still unburied in the heart lies on! + + Oh, the sick gray, the twitter in the trees, + The sense of human waking o'er the earth! + The quivering memories of love's fair birth + Now strown as deathless flowers o'er its decease! + + Oh, the regret, and oh, regretlessness, + Striving for sovranty within the soul! + Oh, fear that life shall never more be whole, + And immortality but make it less! + + + + +STORM-EBB + + + Dusking amber dimly creeps + Over the vale, + Lit by the kildee's silver sweeps, + Sad with his wail. + + Eastward swing the silent clouds + Into the night. + Burdens of day they seem--in crowds + Hurled from earth's sight. + + Tilting gulls whip whitely far + Over the lake, + Tirelessly on o'er buoy and spar + Till they o'ertake + + Shadow and mingled mist--and then + Vanish to wing + Still the bewildering night-fen, + Where the waves ring. + + Dusking amber dimly dies + Out of the vale. + Dead from the dunes the winds arise-- + Ghosts of the gale. + + + + +LINGERING + + + I lingered still when you were gone, + When tryst and trust were o'er, + While memory like a wounded swan + In sorrow sung love's lore. + + I lingered till the whippoorwill + Had cried delicious pain + Over the wild-wood--in its thrill + I heard your voice again. + + I lingered and the mellow breeze + Blew to me sweetly dewed-- + Its touch awoke the sorceries + Your last caresses brewed. + + But when the night with silent start + Had sown her starry seed, + The harvest which sprang in my heart + Was loneliness and need. + + + + +FAUN-CALL + + + Oh, who is he will follow me + With a singing, + Down sunny roads where windy odes + Of the woods are ringing? + + Where leaves are tossed from branches lost + In a tangle + Of vines that vie to clamber high-- + But to vault and dangle! + + Oh, who is he?--His eye must be + As a lover's + To leap and woo the chicory's hue + In the hazel-hovers! + + His hope must dance like radiance + That hurries + To scatter shades from the silent glades + Where the quick hare scurries. + + And he must see that Autumn's glee + And her laughter + From his lips and heart will quell all smart-- + Of before and after! + + + + +THE LIGHTHOUSEMAN + + + When at evening smothered lightnings + Burn the clouds with fretted fires; + When the stars forget to glisten, + And the winds refuse to listen + To the song of my desires, + Oh, my love, unto thee! + + When the livid breakers angered + Churn against my stormy tower; + When the petrel flying faster + Brings an omen to the master + Of his vessel's fated hour-- + Oh, the reefs! ah, the sea! + + Then I climb the climbing stairway, + Turn the light across the storm; + You are watching, fisher-maiden + For the token-flashes laden + With a love death could not harm-- + Lo, they come, swift and free! + + _One_--that means, "I think of thee!" + _Two_--"I swear me thine!" + _Three_--Ah, hear me tho' you sleep!-- + Is, that I know thee mine! + Thro' the darkness, One, Two, Three, + All the night they sweep: + Thro' raging darkness o'er the deep, + One--and Two--and Three. + + + + +SERENITY + + + And could I love it more--this simple scene + Of cot-strewn hills and fields long-harvested, + That lie as if forgotten were all green, + So bare, so dead! + + Or could my gaze more tenderly entwine + Each pallid beech and silvery sycamore + Outreaching arms in patience to divine + If winter's o'er? + + Ah no, the wind has blown into my veins + The blue infinity of sky, the sense + Of meadows free to-day from icy pains-- + From wintry vents. + + And sunny peace more virgin than the glow + Falling from eve's first star into the night, + Brings hope believing what it ne'er can know + With mortal sight. + + + + +WANTON JUNE + + + I knew she would come! + Sarcastic November + Laughed cold and glum + On the last red ember + Of forest leaves. + He was laughing, the scorner, + At me forlorner + Than any that grieves-- + Because I asked him if June would come! + + But I knew she would come + When snow-hearted winter + Gripped river and loam, + And the wind sped flinter + On icy heel, + I was chafing my sorrow + And yearning to borrow + A hope that would steal + Across the hours--till June should come. + + And now she is here-- + The wanton!--I follow + Her steps, ever near, + To the shade of the hollow + Where violets blow: + And chide her for leaving, + Tho' half believing + She taunted me so, + To make her abided return more dear. + + + + +SPIRIT OF RAIN + +(MIYANOSHITA, JAPAN, 1905) + + + Spirit of rain-- + With all thy mountain mists that wander lonely + As a gray train + Of souls newly discarnate seeking new life only! + + Spirit of rain! + Leading them thro' dim torii, up fane-ways onward + Till not in vain + They tremble upon the peaks and plunge rejoicing dawnward. + + Spirit of rain! + So would I lead my dead thoughts high and higher, + Till they regain + Birth and the beauty of a new life's fire. + + + + +AUTUMN AT THE BRIDGE + + + Brown dropping of leaves, + Soft rush of the wind, + Slow searing of sheaves + On the hill; + Green plunging of frogs, + Cool lisp of the brook, + Far barking of dogs + At the mill; + Hot hanging of clouds, + High poise of the hawk, + Flush laughter of crowds + From the Ridge; + Nut-falling, quail-calling, + Wheel-rumbling, bee-mumbling-- + Oh, sadness, gladness, madness, + Of an autumn day at the bridge! + + + + +TEARLESS + + + Do women weep when men have died? + It cannot be! + For I have sat here by his side, + Breathing dear names against his face, + That he must list to, were his place + Over God's throne-- + Yet have I wept no tear and made no moan. + + Do women weep--not gaze stone-eyed? + Grief seems in vain. + Do women weep?--I was his bride-- + They brought him to me cold and pale-- + Upon his lids I saw the trail + Of deathly pain. + They said, "Her tears will fall like autumn rain." + + I cannot weep! Not if hot tears, + Dropped on his lids, + Might burn him back to life and years + Of yearning love, would any rise + To flood the anguish from my eyes-- + And I'm his bride! + Ah me, do women weep when men have died? + + + + +SUNSET-LOVERS + + + Upon how many a hill, + Across how many a field, + Beside how many a river's restful flowing, + They stand, with eyes a-thrill, + And hearts of day-rue healed, + Gazing, O wistful sun, upon thy going! + + They have forgotten life, + Forgotten sunless death; + Desire is gone--is it not gone for ever? + No memory of strife + Have they, or pain-sick breath. + No hopes to fear or fears hope cannot sever. + + Silent the gold steals down + The west, and mystery + Moves deeper in their hearts and settles darker. + 'Tis faded--the day's crown; + But strange and shadowy + They see the Unseen as night falls stark and starker. + + Like priests whose altar fires + Are spent, immovable + They stand, in awful ecstasy uplifted. + Zephyrs awake tree-lyres, + The starry deeps are full, + Earth with a mystic majesty is gifted. + + Ah, sunset-lovers, though + Time were but pulsing pain, + And death no more than its eternal ceasing, + Would you not choose the throe, + Hold the oblivion vain, + To have beheld so many a day's releasing? + + + + +THE EMPTY CROSS + + + The eve of Golgotha had come, + And Christ lay shrouded in the garden Tomb: + Among the olives, Oh, how dumb, + How sad the sun incarnadined the gloom! + + The hill grew dim--the pleading cross + Reached empty arms toward the closing gate. + Jerusalem, oh, count thy loss! + Oh, hear ye! hear ye! ere it be too late! + + Reached bleeding arms--but how in vain! + The murmurous multitude within the wall + Already had forgot His pain-- + To-morrow would forget the cross--and all! + + They knew not Rome, before its sign, + Bending her brow bound with the nations' threne, + Would sweep all lands from Nile to Rhine + In servitude unto the Nazarene. + + Nor knew that millions would forsake + Ancestral shrines great with the glow of time, + And lifting up its token shake + Aeons with thrill of love or battle's crime. + + With empty arms aloft it stood: + Ah, Scribe and Pharisee, ye builded well! + The cross emblotted with His blood + Mounts, highest Hope of men, against earth's hell! + + + + +UNBURTHENED + + + Not grief nor the sunny wine + Of gladness steeps my spirit as I gaze + Over these meads that lie engarmented + In stubble robes of winter-weary brown. + For, as those solitary trees afar + Have reached unbudding boughs to the dim day + And melted on the infinite calm of space, + So have I reached, and am no more distraught + With the quivering pangs of memory's yesterday. + But the boon of blue skies deeper than despair, + Of rest that rises as a tide of sleep, + Of care borne on the plumes of swan-swift clouds + Away to the sullen shades of the low west, + Have lulled my soul with soft infinitude-- + And lent it faith's illimitable Peace. + + + + +SONG + + + Her voice is vibrant beauty dipt + In dreams of infinite sorrow and delight. + Thro' an awaiting soul 'tis slipt + And lo, words spring that breathe immortal. + + + + +TO HER WHO SHALL COME + + + 1 + + Out of the night of lovelessness I call + Thee, as, in a chill chamber where no rays + Of unbelievable light and freedom fall, + Might cry one manacled! And tho' the ways + Thou'lt come I cannot see; tho' my heart's sore + With emptiness when morning's silent grays + Wake me to long aloneness; yet I know + Thou hast been with me, who like dawn wilt go + Beside me, when I have found thee, evermore! + + + 2 + + So in the garden of my heart each day + I plant thee a flower. Now the pansy, peace, + And now the lily, faith--or now a spray + Of the climbing ivy, hope. And they ne'er cease + Around the still unblossoming rose of love + To bend in fragrant tribute to her sway. + Then--for thy shelter from life's sultrier suns, + The oak of strength I set o'er joy that runs + With brooklet glee from winds that grieve above. + + + 3 + + But where now art thou? Watching with love's eye + The eve-star wander? Listening through dim trees + Some thrilled muezzin of the forest cry + From his leafy minaret? Or by the sea's + Blue brim, while the spectral moon half o'er it hangs + Like the faery isle of Avalon, do these + My yearnings speak to thee of days thy feet + Have never trod?--Sweet, sweet, oh, more than sweet, + My own, must be our meeting's mystic pangs. + + + 4 + + And will be soon! For last night near to-day, + Dreaming, God called me thro' the space-built sphere + Of heaven and said, "Come, waiting one, and lay + Thine ear unto my Heart--there thou shalt hear + The secrets of this world where evils war." + Such things I heard as must rend mortal clay + To tell, and trembled--till God, pitying, + Said, "Listen" ... Oh, my love, I heard thee sing + Out of thy window to the morning star! + + + + +STORM-TWILIGHT + + + Tossing, swirling, swept by the wind, + Beaten abaft by the rain, + The swallows high in the sodden sky + Circle oft and again. + + They rise and sink and drift and swing, + Twitterless in the chill; + A-haste, for stark is the coming dark + Over the wet of the hill. + + Wildly, swiftly, at last they stream + Into their chimney home. + A livid gash in the west, a crash-- + Then silence, sadness, gloam. + + + + +SLAVES + + + A host of bloody centuries lie prone + Upon the fields of Time--but still the wake + Of Progress loud is haunted with the groan + Of myriads, from whose peaceful veins, to slake + His scarlet thirst, has War, fierce Polypheme + Of fate, insatiately drunk life's stream. + We bid the courier lightning leap along + Its instant path with spirit speed--command + Stars lost in night-eternity to throng + Before the magnet eye of Science--stand + On Glory's peak and triumphingly cry + Out mastery of earth and sea and air. + But unto War's necessity we bare + Our piteous breasts--and impotently die. + + + + +AVOWAL TO THE NIGHTINGALE + + + Tho' thou hast ne'er unpent thy pain's delight + Upon these airs, bird of the poet's love, + Yet must I sing thy singing! For the Night + Has poured her jewels o'er the lap of heaven + As they who hear thee say thou dost above + The wood such ecstasies as were not given + By nestling breasts of Venus to the dove. + + + 2 + + Oft have I watched the moon with her fair gold + Still clung to by the tattered mists of day + Arise and look for thee. Then hope grew bold. + And almost I could see how the near laurels + Would tremble with thy trembling: but the sway + Of bards who wreathed thee with unfading chorals + Has held my longing lips from this poor lay. + + + 3 + + But take it now. And if the lark--who is + Too high for earth--may vie for praise with thee + In aery rhapsody, yet it is his + To sing of day and joy, while thou of sorrow + And night o'erhovering singest. So thou'lt be + More dear than he--till hearts shall cease to borrow + From grief the healing for life's mystery. + + + + +WILDNESS + + + To drift with the drifting clouds, + And blow with the blow of breezes, + To ripple with waves and murmur with caves + To soar, as the sea-mew pleases! + + To dip with the dipping sails, + And burn with the burning heaven-- + My life! my soul! for the infinite roll + Of a day to wildness given! + + + + +BEFORE AUTUMN + + + Summer's last moon has waned-- + Waned + As amber fires + Of an Aztec shrine. + The invisible breath of coming death has stained + The withering leaves with its nepenthean wine-- + Autumn's near. + + Winds in the woodland moan-- + Moan + As memories + Of a chilling yore. + Magnolia seeds like Indian beads are strown + From crimson pods along the earth's sere floor-- + Autumn's near. + + Solitude slowly steals, + Steals + Her silent way + By the songless brook. + At the gnarly yoke of a solemn oak she kneels, + The musing joy of sadness in her look-- + Autumn's near. + + Yes, with her golden days-- + Days + When hope and toil + Are at peace and rest-- + Autumn is near, and the tired year 'mid praise + Lies down with leaf and blossom on his breast-- + Autumn's near. + + + + +FULFILMENT + + + A-bask in the mellow beauty of the ripening sun, + Sad with the lingering sense of summer's purpose done, + The shorn and searing fields stretch from me one by one + Along the creek. + + The corn-stalks drop their shadows down the fallow hill; + Wearing autumnal warmth the farm sleeps by the mill, + Around each heavy eave low smoke hangs blue and still-- + Life's flow is weak. + + Along the weedy roads and lanes I walk--or pause-- + Ponder a fallen nut or quirking crow whose caws + Seem with prehuman hintings fraught or ancient awes + Of forest deeps. + + Of forest deeps the pale-face hunter never trod, + Nor Indian, with the silent stealth of Nature shod; + Deeps tense with the timelessness and solitude of God, + Who never sleeps. + + And many times has Autumn, on her harvest way, + Gathered again into the earth leaf, fruit, and spray; + Here many times dwelt rueful as she dwells to-day, + The while she reaps. + + + + +LAST SIGHT OF LAND + + + The clouds in woe hang far and dim: + I look again, and lo, + Only a faint and shadow line + Of shore--I watch it go. + + The gulls have left the ship and wheel + Back to the cliff's gray wraith. + Will it be so of all our thoughts + When we set sail on Death? + + And what will the last sight be of life + As lone we fare and fast? + Grief and the face we love in mist-- + Then night and awe too vast? + + Or the dear light of Hope--like that, + Oh, see, from the lost shore + Kindling and calling "Onward, you + Shall reach the Evermore!" + + + + +SILENCE + + + Silence is song unheard, + Is beauty never born, + Is light forgotten--left unstirred + Upon Creation's morn. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Song-Surf, by Cale Young Rice + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONG-SURF *** + +***** This file should be named 31890.txt or 31890.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/9/31890/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. 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