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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38766-8.txt b/38766-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb9170b --- /dev/null +++ b/38766-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3432 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Songs of the Mexican Seas, by Joaquin Miller + +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: Songs of the Mexican Seas + +Author: Joaquin Miller + +Release Date: February 4, 2012 [EBook #38766] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS *** + + + + +Produced by Daniel Emerson Griffith and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS + + BY JOAQUIN MILLER + AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF THE SIERRAS," "SONGS OF ITALY," ETC. + + + BOSTON + ROBERTS BROTHERS + 1887 + + + Copyright, 1887, + By Roberts Brothers. + + UNIVERSITY PRESS: + John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. + + +TO ABBIE. + + +NOTE.--The lines in this little book, as in all my others, were +written, or at least conceived, in the lands where the scenes are +laid; so that whatever may be said of the imperfections of my work, +I at least have the correct atmosphere and color. I have now and +then sent forth from Mexico, and from remoter shores of the Gulf, +fragments of these thoughts as they rounded into form, and some +of them have been used at a Dartmouth College Commencement, and +elsewhere; but as a whole the book is new. + +From the heart of the Sierra, where I once more hear the awful +heart-throbs of Nature, I now intrust the first reception of these +lessons entirely to my own country. And may I not ask in return, +now at the last, when the shadows begin to grow long, something +of that consideration which, thus far, has been accorded almost +entirely by strangers? + + Joaquin Miller. + + Mount Shasta, California, + A.D. 1887. + + + + +SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS. + + + + +THE SEA OF FIRE. + + + In that far land, farther than Yucatan, + Hondurian height, or Mahogany steep, + Where the great sea, hollowed by the hand of man + Hears deep come calling across to deep; + Where the great seas follow in the grooves of men + Down under the bastions of Darien: + + In that land so far that you wonder whether + If God would know it should you fall down dead; + In that land so far through the wilds and weather + That the lost sun sinks like a warrior sped,-- + Where the sea and the sky seem closing together, + Seem closing together as a book that is read: + + In that nude warm world, where the unnamed rivers + Roll restless in cradles of bright buried gold; + Where white flashing mountains flow rivers of silver + As a rock of the desert flowed fountains of old; + By a dark wooded river that calls to the dawn, + And calls all day with his dolorous swan: + + In that land of the wonderful sun and weather, + With green under foot and with gold over head, + Where the spent sun flames, and you wonder whether + 'Tis an isle of fire in his foamy bed: + Where the oceans of earth shall be welded together + By the great French master in his forge flame red,-- + + Lo! the half-finished world! Yon footfall retreating,-- + It might be the Maker disturbed at his task. + But the footfall of God, or the far pheasant beating, + It is one and the same, whatever the mask + It may wear unto man. The woods keep repeating + The old sacred sermons, whatever you ask. + + The brown-muzzled cattle come stealthy to drink, + The wild forest cattle, with high horns as trim + As the elk at their side: their sleek necks are slim + And alert like the deer. They come, then they shrink + As afraid of their fellows, of shadow-beasts seen + In the deeps of the dark-wooded waters of green. + + It is man in his garden, scarce wakened as yet + From the sleep that fell on him when woman was made. + The new-finished garden is plastic and wet + From the hand that has fashioned its unpeopled shade; + And the wonder still looks from the fair woman's eyes + As she shines through the wood like the light from the skies. + + And a ship now and then from some far Ophir's shore + Draws in from the sea. It lies close to the bank; + Then a dull, muffled sound of the slow-shuffled plank + As they load the black ship; but you hear nothing more, + And the dark dewy vines, and the tall sombre wood + Like twilight droop over the deep sweeping flood. + + The black masts are tangled with branches that cross, + The rich, fragrant gums fall from branches to deck, + The thin ropes are swinging with streamers of moss + That mantle all things like the shreds of a wreck; + The long mosses swing, there is never a breath: + The river rolls still as the river of death. + + +I. + + In the beginning,--ay, before + The six-days' labors were well o'er; + Yea, while the world lay incomplete, + Ere God had opened quite the door + Of this strange land for strong men's feet,-- + There lay against that westmost sea + One weird-wild land of mystery. + + A far white wall, like fallen moon, + Girt out the world. The forest lay + So deep you scarcely saw the day, + Save in the high-held middle noon: + It lay a land of sleep and dreams, + And clouds drew through like shoreless streams + That stretch to where no man may say. + + Men reached it only from the sea, + By black-built ships, that seemed to creep + Along the shore suspiciously, + Like unnamed monsters of the deep. + It was the weirdest land, I ween, + That mortal eye has ever seen: + + A dim, dark land of bird and beast, + Black shaggy beasts with cloven claw,-- + A land that scarce knew prayer or priest, + Or law of man, or Nature's law; + Where no fixed line drew sharp dispute + 'Twixt savage man and silent brute. + + +II. + + It hath a history most fit + For cunning hand to fashion on; + No chronicler hath mentioned it; + No buccaneer set foot upon. + 'Tis of an outlawed Spanish Don,-- + A cruel man, with pirate's gold + That loaded down his deep ship's hold. + + A deep ship's hold of plundered gold! + The golden cruise, the golden cross, + From many a church of Mexico, + From Panama's mad overthrow, + From many a ransomed city's loss, + From many a follower stanch and bold, + And many a foeman stark and cold. + + He found this wild, lost land. He drew + His ship to shore. His ruthless crew, + Like Romulus, laid lawless hand + On meek brown maidens of the land, + And in their bloody forays bore + Red firebrands along the shore. + + +III. + + The red men rose at night. They came, + A firm, unflinching wall of flame; + They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea + O'er land of sand and level shore + That howls in far, fierce agony. + The red men swept that deep, dark shore + As threshers sweep a threshing-floor. + + And yet beside the slain Don's door + They left his daughter, as they fled: + They spared her life, because she bore + Their Chieftain's blood and name. The red + And blood-stained hidden hoards of gold + They hollowed from the stout ship's hold, + And bore in many a slim canoe-- + To where? The good priest only knew. + + +IV. + + The course of life is like the sea: + Men come and go; tides rise and fall; + And that is all of history. + The tide flows in, flows out to-day,-- + And that is all that man may say; + Man is, man was,--and that is all. + + Revenge at last came like a tide,-- + 'Twas sweeping, deep, and terrible; + The Christian found the land, and came + To take possession in Christ's name. + For every white man that had died + I think a thousand red men fell,-- + A Christian custom; and the land + Lay lifeless as some burned-out brand. + + +V. + + Ere while the slain Don's daughter grew + A glorious thing, a flower of spring, + A lithe slim reed, a sun-loved weed, + A something more than mortal knew; + A mystery of grace and face,-- + A silent mystery that stood + An empress in that sea-set wood, + Supreme, imperial in her place. + + It might have been men's lust for gold,-- + For all men knew that lawless crew + Left hoards of gold in that ship's hold, + That drew ships hence, and silent drew + Strange Jasons to that steep wood shore, + As if to seek that hidden store,-- + I never either cared or knew. + + I say it might have been this gold + That ever drew and strangely drew + Strong men of land, strange men of sea, + To seek this shore of mystery + With all its wondrous tales untold: + The gold or her, which of the two? + It matters not; I never knew. + + But this I know, that as for me, + Between that face and the hard fate + That kept me ever from my own, + As some wronged monarch from his throne, + God's heaped-up gold of land or sea + Had never weighed one feather's weight. + + Her home was on the wooded height,-- + A woody home, a priest at prayer, + A perfume in the fervid air, + And angels watching her at night. + I can but think upon the skies + That bound that other Paradise. + + +VI. + + Below a star-built arch, as grand + As ever bended heaven spanned; + Tall trees like mighty columns grew-- + They loomed as if to pierce the blue, + They reached as reaching heaven through. + + The shadowed stream rolled far below, + Where men moved noiseless to and fro + As in some vast cathedral, when + The calm of prayer comes to men, + With benedictions, bending low. + + Lo! wooded sea-banks, wild and steep! + A trackless wood; a snowy cone + That lifted from this wood alone! + This wild wide river, dark and deep! + A ship against the shore asleep! + + +VII. + + An Indian woman crept, a crone, + Hard by about the land alone, + The relic of her perished race. + She wore rich, rudely-fashioned bands + Of gold above her bony hands: + She hissed hot curses on the place! + + +VIII. + + Go seek the red man's last retreat! + A lonesome land, the haunted lands! + Red mouths of beasts, red men's red hands: + Red prophet-priest, in mute defeat! + + His boundaries in blood are writ! + His land is ghostland! That is his, + Whatever man may claim of this; + Beware how you shall enter it! + He stands God's guardian of ghostlands; + Ay, this same wrapped half-prophet stands + All nude and voiceless, nearer to + The awful God than I or you. + + +IX. + + This bronzed child, by that river's brink, + Stood fair to see as you can think, + As tall as tall reeds at her feet, + As fresh as flowers in her hair; + As sweet as flowers over-sweet, + As fair as vision more than fair! + + How beautiful she was! How wild! + How pure as water-plant, this child,-- + This one wild child of Nature here + Grown tall in shadows. + And how near + To God, where no man stood between + Her eyes and scenes no man hath seen,-- + This maiden that so mutely stood, + The one lone woman of that wood. + + Stop still, my friend, and do not stir, + Shut close your page and think of her. + The birds sang sweeter for her face; + Her lifted eyes were like a grace + To seamen of that solitude, + However rough, however rude. + + The rippled rivers of her hair, + That ran in wondrous waves, somehow + Flowed down divided by her brow,-- + Half mantled her within its care, + And flooded all, or bronze or snow, + In its uncommon fold and flow. + + A perfume and an incense lay + Before her, as an incense sweet + Before blithe mowers of sweet May + In early morn. Her certain feet + Embarked on no uncertain way. + + Come, think how perfect before men, + How sweet as sweet magnolia bloom + Embalmed in dews of morning, when + Rich sunlight leaps from midnight gloom + Resolved to kiss, and swift to kiss + Ere yet morn wakens man to bliss. + + +X. + + The days swept on. Her perfect year + Was with her now. The sweet perfume + Of womanhood in holy bloom, + As when red harvest blooms appear, + Possessed her now. The priest did pray + That saints alone should pass that way. + + A red bird built beneath her roof, + Brown squirrels crossed her cabin sill, + And welcome came or went at will. + A hermit spider wove his web, + And up against the roof would spin + His net to catch mosquitoes in. + + The silly elk, the spotted fawn, + And all dumb beasts that came to drink, + That stealthy stole upon the brink + In that dim while that lies between + The coming night and going dawn, + On seeing her familiar face + Would fearless stop and stand in place. + + She was so kind, the beasts of night + Gave her the road as if her right; + The panther crouching overhead + In sheen of moss would hear her tread + And bend his eyes, but never stir + Lest he by chance might frighten her. + + Yet in her splendid strength, her eyes, + There lay the lightning of the skies; + The love-hate of the lioness, + To kill the instant, or caress: + A pent-up soul that sometimes grew + Impatient; why, she hardly knew. + + At last she sighed, uprose, and threw + Her strong arms out as if to hand + Her love, sun-born and all complete + At birth, to some brave lover's feet + On some far, fair, and unseen land, + As knowing now not what to do! + + +XI. + + How beautiful she was! Why, she + Was inspiration! She was born + To walk God's summer hills at morn, + Nor waste her by this wood-dark sea. + What wonder, then, her soul's white wings + Beat at its bars, like living things! + + Once more she sighed! She wandered through + The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew + Her hand above her face, and swept + The lonesome sea, and all day kept + Her face to sea, as if she knew + Some day, some near or distant day, + Her destiny should come that way. + + +XII. + + How proud she was! How darkly fair! + How full of faith, of love, of strength! + Her calm, proud eyes! Her great hair's length,-- + Her long, strong, tumbled, careless hair, + Half curled and knotted anywhere, + From brow to breast, from cheek to chin, + For love to trip and tangle in! + + +XIII. + + At last a tall strange sail was seen: + It came so slow, so wearily, + Came creeping cautious up the sea, + As if it crept from out between + The half-closed sea and sky that lay + Tight wedged together, far away. + + She watched it, wooed it. She did pray + It might not pass her by, but bring + Some love, some hate, some anything, + To break the awful loneliness + That like a nightly nightmare lay + Upon her proud and pent-up soul + Until it barely brooked control. + + +XIV. + + The ship crept silent up the sea, + And came-- + You cannot understand + How fair she was, how sudden she + Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood: + How gracious, yet how proud and grand; + How glorified, yet fresh and free, + How human, yet how more than good. + + +XV. + + The ship stole slowly, slowly on;-- + Should you in Californian field + In ample flower-time behold + The soft south rose lift like a shield + Against the sudden sun at dawn, + A double handful of heaped gold, + Why you, perhaps, might understand + How splendid and how queenly she + Uprose beside that wood-set sea. + + The storm-worn ship scarce seemed to creep + From wave to wave. It scarce could keep-- + How still this fair girl stood, how fair! + How proud her presence as she stood + Between that vast sea and west wood! + How large and liberal her soul, + How confident, how purely chare, + How trusting; how untried the whole + Great heart, grand faith, that blossomed there! + + +XVI. + + Ay, she was as Madonna to + The tawny, lawless, faithful few + Who touched her hand and knew her soul: + She drew them, drew them as the pole + Points all things to itself. + She drew + Men upward as a moon of spring, + High wheeling, vast and bosom-full, + Half clad in clouds and white as wool, + Draws all the strong seas following. + + Yet still she moved as sad, as lone + As that same moon that leans above, + And seems to search high heaven through + For some strong, all-sufficient love, + For one brave love to be her own, + To lean upon, to love, to woo, + To lord her high white world, to yield + His clashing sword against her shield. + + Oh, I once knew a sad, white dove + That died for such sufficient love, + Such high-born soul with wings to soar: + That stood up equal in its place, + That looked love level in the face, + Nor wearied love with leaning o'er + To lift love level where she trod + In sad delight the hills of God. + + +XVII. + + How slow before the sleeping breeze, + That stranger ship from under seas! + How like to Dido by her sea, + When reaching arms imploringly,-- + Her large, round, rich, impassioned arms, + Tossed forth from all her storied charms,-- + This one lone maiden leaning stood + Above that sea, beside the wood! + + The ship crept strangely up the seas; + Her shrouds seemed shreds, her masts seemed trees,-- + Strange tattered trees of toughest bough + That knew no cease of storm till now. + The maiden pitied her; she prayed + Her crew might come, nor feel afraid; + She prayed the winds might come,--they came, + As birds that answer to a name. + + The maiden held her blowing hair + That bound her beauteous self about; + The sea-winds housed within her hair: + She let it go, it blew in rout + About her bosom full and bare. + Her round, full arms were free as air, + Her high hands clasped, as clasped in prayer. + + +XVIII. + + The breeze grew bold, the battered ship + Began to flap her weary wings; + The tall, torn masts began to dip + And walk the wave like living things. + She rounded in, she struck the stream, + She moved like some majestic dream. + + The captain kept her deck. He stood + A Hercules among his men; + And now he watched the sea, and then + He peered as if to pierce the wood. + He now looked back, as if pursued, + Now swept the sea with glass, as though + He fled or feared some hidden foe. + + Swift sailing up the river's mouth, + Swift tacking north, swift tacking south, + He touched the overhanging wood; + He tacked his ship; his tall black mast + Touched tree-top mosses as he passed; + He touched the steep shore where she stood. + + +XIX. + + Her hands still clasped as if in prayer, + Sweet prayer set to silentness; + Her sun-browned throat uplifted, bare + And beautiful. + Her eager face + Illumed with love and tenderness, + And all her presence gave such grace, + Dark shadowed in her cloud of hair, + That she seemed more than mortal fair. + + +XX. + + He saw. He could not speak. No more + With lifted glass he sought the sea; + No more he watched the wild new shore. + Now foes might come, now friends might flee; + He could not speak, he would not stir,-- + He saw but her, he feared but her. + + The black ship ground against the shore, + She ground against the bank as one + With long and weary journeys done, + That would not rise to journey more. + + Yet still this Jason silent stood + And gazed against that sun-lit wood, + As one whose soul is anywhere. + + All seemed so fair, so wondrous fair! + At last aroused, he stepped to land + Like some Columbus. They laid hand + On lands and fruits, and rested there. + + +XXI. + + He found all fairer than fair morn + In sylvan land, where waters run + With downward leap against the sun, + And full-grown sudden May is born. + He found her taller than tall corn + Tiptoe in tassel; found her sweet + As vale where bees of Hybla meet. + + An unblown rose, an unread book; + A wonder in her wondrous eyes; + A large, religious, steadfast look + Of faith, of trust,--the look of one + New welcomed in her Paradise. + + He read this book,--read on and on + From titlepage to colophon: + As in cool woods, some summer day, + You find delight in some sweet lay, + And so entranced read on and on + From titlepage to colophon. + + +XXII. + + And who was he that rested there,-- + This Hercules, so huge, so rare, + This giant of a grander day, + This Theseus of a nobler Greece, + This Jason of the golden fleece? + And who was he? And who were they + That came to seek the hidden gold + Long hallowed from the pirate's hold? + I do not know. You need not care. + + . . . . . . + + They loved, this maiden and this man, + And that is all I surely know,-- + The rest is as the winds that blow. + He bowed as brave men bow to fate, + Yet proud and resolute and bold; + She, coy at first, and mute and cold, + Held back and seemed to hesitate,-- + Half frightened at this love that ran + Hard gallop till her hot heart beat + Like sounding of swift courser's feet. + + +XXIII. + + Two strong streams of a land must run + Together surely as the sun + Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay + The fates that reign, that wisely reign? + Love is, love was, shall be again. + Like death, inevitable it is; + Perchance, like death, the dawn of bliss. + Let us, then, love the perfect day, + The twelve o'clock of life, and stop + The two hands pointing to the top, + And hold them tightly while we may. + + +XXIV. + + How piteous strange is love! The walks + By wooded ways; the silent talks + Beneath the broad and fragrant bough. + The dark deep wood, the dense black dell, + Where scarce a single gold beam fell + From out the sun. + They rested now + On mossy trunk. They wandered then + Where never fell the feet of men. + + Then longer walks, then deeper woods, + Then sweeter talks, sufficient sweet, + In denser, deeper solitudes,-- + Dear careless ways for careless feet; + Sweet talks of paradise for two, + And only two, to watch or woo. + + She rarely spake. All seemed a dream + She would not waken from. She lay + All night but waiting for the day, + When she might see his face, and deem + This man, with all his perils passed, + Had found the Lotus-land at last. + + +XXV. + + The year waxed fervid, and the sun + Fell central down. The forest lay + A-quiver in the heat. The sea + Below the steep bank seemed to run + A molten sea of gold. + Away + Against the gray and rock-built isles + That broke the molten watery miles + Where lonesome sea-cows called all day, + The sudden sun smote angrily. + + Therefore the need of deeper deeps, + Of denser shade for man and maid, + Of higher heights, of cooler steeps, + Where all day long the sea-wind stayed. + + They sought the rock-reared steep. The breeze + Swept twenty thousand miles of seas; + Had twenty thousand things to say + Of love, of lovers of Cathay, + To lovers 'mid these high-held trees. + + +XXVI. + + To left, to right, below the height, + Below the wood by wave and stream, + Plumed pampas grasses grew to gleam + And bend their lordly plumes, and run + And shake, as if in very fright + Before sharp lances of the sun. + + They saw the tide-bound battered ship + Creep close below against the bank; + They saw it cringe and shrink; it shrank + As shrinks some huge black beast with fear + When some uncommon dread is near. + They heard the melting resin drip, + As drip the last brave blood-drops when + Life's battle waxes hot with men. + + +XXVII. + + Yet what to her were burning seas, + Or what to him was forest flame? + They loved; they loved the glorious trees, + The gleaming tides, or rise or fall; + They loved the lisping winds that came + From sea-lost spice-set isles unknown, + With breath not warmer than their own: + They loved, they loved,--and that was all. + + +XXVIII. + + Full noon! Below the ancient moss + With mighty boughs high clanged across, + The man with sweet words, over-sweet, + Fell pleading, plaintive, at her feet. + + He spake of love, of boundless love,-- + Of love that knew no other land, + Or face, or place, or anything; + Of love that like the wearied dove + Could light nowhere, but kept the wing + Till she alone put forth her hand, + And so received it in her ark + From seas that shake against the dark! + + He clasped her hands, climbed past her knees, + Forgot her hands and kissed her hair,-- + The while her two hands clasped in prayer, + And fair face lifted to the trees. + + Her proud breast heaved, her pure proud breast + Rose like the waves in their unrest + When counter storms possess the seas. + Her mouth, her arched, uplifted mouth, + Her ardent mouth that thirsted so,-- + No glowing love-song of the South + Can say; no man can say or know + The glory there, and so live on + Content without that glory gone! + + Her face still lifted up. And she + Disdained the cup of passion he + Hard pressed her panting lips to touch. + She dashed it by despised, and she + Caught fast her breath. She trembled much, + And sudden rose full height, and stood + An empress in high womanhood: + She stood a tower, tall as when + Proud Roman mothers suckled men + Of old-time truth and taught them such. + + +XXIX. + + Her soul surged vast as space is. She + Was trembling as a courser when + His thin flank quivers, and his feet + Touch velvet on the turf, and he + Is all afoam, alert, and fleet + As sunlight glancing on the sea, + And full of triumph before men. + + At last she bended some her face, + Half leaned, then put him back a pace, + And met his eyes. + Calm, silently + Her eyes looked deep into his eyes,-- + As maidens down some mossy well + Do peer in hope by chance to tell + By image there what future lies + Before them, and what face shall be + The pole-star of their destiny. + + Pure Nature's lover! Loving him + With love that made all pathways dim + And difficult where he was not,-- + Then marvel not at form forgot. + And who shall chide? Doth priest know aught + Of sign, or holy unction brought + From over seas, that ever can + Make man love maid or maid love man + One whit the more, one bit the less, + For all his mummeries to bless? + Yea, all his blessing or his ban? + + The winds breathed warm as Araby: + She leaned upon his breast, she lay + A wide-winged swan with folded wing. + He drowned his hot face in her hair, + He heard her great heart rise and sing; + He felt her bosom swell. + The air + Swooned sweet with perfume of her form. + Her breast was warm, her breath was warm, + And warm her warm and perfumed mouth + As summer journeys through the South. + + +XXX. + + The argent sea surged steep below, + Surged languid in a tropic glow; + And two great hearts kept surging so! + + The fervid kiss of heaven lay + Precipitate on wood and sea. + Two great souls glowed with ecstasy, + The sea glowed scarce as warm as they. + + +XXXI. + + 'Twas love's low amber afternoon. + Two far-off pheasants thrummed a tune, + A cricket clanged a restful air. + The dreamful billows beat a rune + Like heart regrets. + Around her head + There shone a halo. Men have said + 'Twas from a dash of Titian + That flooded all her storm of hair + In gold and glory. But they knew, + Yea, all men know there ever grew + A halo round about her head + Like sunlight scarcely vanishèd. + + +XXXII. + + How still she was! She only knew + His love. She saw no life beyond. + She loved with love that only lives + Outside itself and selfishness,-- + A love that glows in its excess; + A love that melts pure gold, and gives + Thenceforth to all who come to woo + No coins but this face stamped thereon,-- + Ay, this one image stamped upon + Its face, with some dim date long gone. + + +XXXIII. + + They kept the headland high; the ship + Below began to chafe her chain, + To groan as some great beast in pain; + While white fear leapt from lip to lip: + "The woods are fire! the woods are flame! + Come down and save us, in God's name!" + + He heard! he did not speak or stir,-- + He thought of her, of only her. + While flames behind, before them lay + To hold the stoutest heart at bay! + + Strange sounds were heard far up the flood,-- + Strange, savage sounds that chilled the blood! + Then sudden from the dense dark wood + Above, about them where they stood + A thousand beasts came peering out; + And now was thrust a long black snout, + And now a tusky mouth. It was + A sight to make the stoutest pause. + + "Cut loose the ship!" the black mate cried; + "Cut loose the ship!" the crew replied. + They drove into the sea. It lay + As light as ever middle day. + + The while their half-blind bitch, that sat + All slobber-mouthed, and monkish cowled + With great, broad, floppy, leathern ears, + Amid the men, rose up and howled, + And doleful howled her plaintive fears, + While all looked mute aghast thereat. + It was the grimmest eve, I think, + That ever hung on Hades' brink. + + Great broad-winged bats possessed the air, + Bats whirling blindly everywhere; + It was such troubled twilight eve + As never mortal would believe. + + +XXXIV. + + Some say the crazed hag lit the wood + In circle where the lovers stood; + Some say the gray priest feared the crew + Might find at last the hoard of gold + Long hidden from the black ship's hold,-- + I doubt me if men ever knew. + But such mad, howling, flame-lit shore + No mortal ever saw before. + + Huge beasts above that shining sea, + Wild, hideous beasts with shaggy hair, + With red mouths lifting in the air, + They piteous howled, and plaintively,-- + The wildest sounds, the weirdest sight + That ever shook the walls of night. + + How lorn they howled, with lifted head, + To dim and distant isles that lay + Wedged tight along a line of red, + Caught in the closing gates of day + 'Twixt sky and sea and far away,-- + It was the saddest sound to hear + That ever struck on human ear. + + They doleful called; and answered they + The plaintive sea-cows far away,-- + The great sea-cows that called from isles, + Away across wide watery miles, + With dripping mouths and lolling tongue, + As if they called for captured young,-- + + The huge sea-cows that called the whiles + Their great wide mouths were mouthing moss; + And still they doleful called across + From isles beyond the watery miles. + No sound can half so doleful be + As sea-cows calling from the sea. + + +XXXV. + + The drowned sun sank and died. He lay + In seas of blood. He sinking drew + The gates of sunset sudden to, + Where shattered day in fragments lay, + And night came, moving in mad flame: + The night came, lighted as he came, + As lighted by high summer sun + Descending through the burning blue. + It was a gold and amber hue, + And all hues blended into one. + The night spilled splendor where she came, + And filled the yellow world with flame. + + The moon came on, came leaning low + Along the far sea-isles aglow; + She fell along that amber flood + A silver flame in seas of blood. + It was the strangest moon, ah me! + That ever settled on God's sea. + + +XXXVI. + + Slim snakes slid down from fern and grass, + From wood, from fen, from anywhere; + You could not step, you would not pass, + And you would hesitate to stir, + Lest in some sudden, hurried tread + Your foot struck some unbruisèd head: + + They slid in streams into the stream,-- + It seemed like some infernal dream; + They curved, and graceful curved across, + Like graceful, waving sea-green moss,-- + There is no art of man can make + A ripple like a rippling snake! + + +XXXVII. + + Abandoned, lorn, the lovers stood, + Abandoned there, death in the air! + That beetling steep, that blazing wood,-- + Red flame! and red flame everywhere! + Yet was he born to strive, to bear + The front of battle. He would die + In noble effort, and defy + The grizzled visage of despair. + + He threw his two strong arms full length + As if to surely test their strength; + Then tore his vestments, textile things + That could but tempt the demon wings + Of flame that girt them round about, + Then threw his garments to the air + As one that laughed at death, at doubt, + And like a god stood grand and bare. + + She did not hesitate; she knew + The need of action; swift she threw + Her burning vestments by, and bound + Her wondrous wealth of hair that fell + An all-concealing cloud around + Her glorious presence, as he came + To seize and bear her through the flame,-- + An Orpheus out of burning hell! + + He leaned above her, wound his arm + About her splendor, while the noon + Of flood-tide, manhood, flushed his face, + And high flames leapt the high headland!-- + They stood as twin-hewn statues stand, + High lifted in some storied place. + + He clasped her close, he spoke of death,-- + Of death and love in the same breath. + He clasped her close; her bosom lay + Like ship safe anchored in some bay. + + +XXXVIII. + + The flames! They could not stand or stay; + Before the beetling steep, the sea! + But at his feet a narrow way, + A short steep path, pitched suddenly + Safe open to the river's beach, + Where lay a small white isle in reach,-- + A small, white, rippled isle of sand + Where yet the two might safely land. + + And there, through smoke and flame, behold + The priest stood safe, yet all appalled! + He reached the cross; he cried, he called; + He waved his high-held cross of gold. + He called and called, he bade them fly + Through flames to him, nor bide and die! + + Her lover saw; he saw, and knew + His giant strength would bear her through. + And yet he would not start or stir. + He clasped her close as death can hold, + Or dying miser clasp his gold,-- + His hold became a part of her. + + He would not give her up! He would + Not bear her waveward though he could! + That height was heaven; the wave was hell. + He clasped her close,--what else had done + The manliest man beneath the sun? + Was it not well? was it not well? + + O man, be glad! be grandly glad, + And kinglike walk thy ways of death! + For more than years of bliss you had + That one brief time you breathed her breath. + Yea, more than years upon a throne + That one brief time you held her fast, + Soul surged to soul, vehement, vast,-- + True breast to breast, and all your own. + + Live me one day, one narrow night, + One second of supreme delight + Like that, and I will blow like chaff + The hollow years aside, and laugh + A loud triumphant laugh, and I, + King-like and crowned, will gladly die. + + Oh, but to wrap my love with flame! + With flame within, with flame without! + Oh, but to die like this, nor doubt-- + To die and know her still the same! + To know that down the ghostly shore + Snow-white she waits me evermore! + + +XXXIX. + + He poised her, held her high in air,-- + His great strong limbs, his great arm's length!-- + Then turned his knotted shoulders bare + As birth-time in his splendid strength, + And strode, strode with a lordly stride + To where the high and wood-hung edge + Looked down, far down upon the molten tide. + The flames leapt with him to the ledge, + The flames leapt leering at his side. + + +XL. + + He leaned above the ledge. Below + He saw the black ship idly cruise,-- + A midge below, a mile below. + His limbs were knotted as the thews + Of Hercules in his death-throe. + + The flame! the flame! the envious flame! + She wound her arms, she wound her hair + About his tall form, grand and bare, + To stay the fierce flame where it came. + + The black ship, like some moonlit wreck, + Below along the burning sea + Crept on and on all silently, + With silent pygmies on her deck. + + That midge-like ship far, far below; + That mirage lifting from the hill! + His flame-lit form began to grow,-- + To grow and grow more grandly still. + The ship so small, that form so tall, + It grew to tower over all. + + A tall Colossus, bronze and gold, + As if that flame-lit form were he + Who once bestrode the Rhodian sea, + And ruled the watery world of old: + As if the lost Colossus stood + Above that burning sea of wood. + + And she, that shapely form upheld, + Held high, as if to touch the sky, + What airy shape, how shapely high,-- + A goddess of the seas of eld! + + Her hand upheld, her high right hand, + As if she would forget the land; + As if to gather stars, and heap + The stars like torches there to light + Her Hero's path across the deep + To some far isle that fearful night. + + It was as if Colossus came, + Came proudly reaching from the flame + Above the sea in sheen of gold, + His sea-bride leaping from his hold; + The lost Colossus, and his bride + In bronze perfection at his side: + As if the lost Colossus came + Companioned from the past, his bride + With torch all faithful at his side: + + With star-tipped torch that reached and rolled + Through cloud-built corridors of gold: + His bride, austere and stern and grand,-- + Bartholdi's goddess by the sea, + Far lifting, lighting Liberty + From prison seas to Freedom's land. + + +XLI. + + The flame! the envious flame, it leapt + Enraged to see such majesty, + Such scorn of death; such kingly scorn. + Then like some lightning-riven tree + They sank down in that flame--and slept + And all was hushed above that steep + So still, that they might sleep and sleep; + As still as when a day is born. + + At last! from out the embers leapt + Two shafts of light above the night,-- + Two wings of flame that lifting swept + In steady, calm, and upward flight; + Two wings of flame against the white + Far-lifting, tranquil, snowy cone; + Two wings of love, two wings of light, + Far, far above that troubled night, + As mounting, mounting to God's throne. + + +XLII. + + And all night long that upward light + Lit up the sea-cow's bed below: + The far sea-cows still calling so + It seemed as they must call all night. + All night! there was no night. Nay, nay, + There was no night. The night that lay + Between that awful eve and day,-- + That nameless night was burned away. + + + + +THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. + +PART I. + + + Rhyme on, rhyme on in reedy flow, + O river, rhymer ever sweet! + The story of thy land is meet, + The stars stand listening to know. + + Rhyme on, O river of the earth! + Gray father of the dreadful seas, + Rhyme on! the world upon its knees + Shall yet invoke thy wealth and worth. + + Rhyme on, the reed is at thy mouth, + O kingly minstrel, mighty stream! + Thy Crescent City, like a dream, + Hangs in the heaven of my South. + + Rhyme on, rhyme on! these broken strings + Sing sweetest in this warm south wind; + I sit thy willow banks and bind + A broken harp that fitful sings. + + +I. + + And where is my city, sweet blossom-sown town? + And what is her glory, and what has she done? + By the Mexican seas in the path of the sun + Sit you down: in the crescent of seas sit you down. + + Ay, glory enough by my Mexican seas! + Ay, story enough in that battle-torn town, + Hidden down in the crescent of seas, hidden down + 'Mid mantle and sheen of magnolia-strown trees. + + But mine is the story of souls; of a soul + That bartered God's limitless kingdom for gold,-- + Sold stars and all space for a thing he could hold + In his palm for a day, ere he hid with the mole. + + O father of waters! O river so vast! + So deep, so strong, and so wondrous wild,-- + He embraces the land as he rushes past, + Like a savage father embracing his child. + + His sea-land is true and so valiantly true, + His leaf-land is fair and so marvellous fair, + His palm-land is filled with a perfumed air + Of magnolia blooms to its dome of blue. + + His rose-land has arbors of moss-swept oak,-- + Gray, Druid old oaks; and the moss that sways + And swings in the wind is the battle-smoke + Of duellists, dead in her storied days. + + His love-land has churches and bells and chimes; + His love-land has altars and orange flowers; + And that is the reason for all these rhymes,-- + These bells, they are ringing through all the hours! + + His sun-land has churches, and priests at prayer, + White nuns, as white as the far north snow; + They go where danger may bid them go,-- + They dare when the angel of death is there. + + His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair, + In the Creole quarter, with great black eyes,-- + So fair that the Mayor must keep them there + Lest troubles, like troubles of Troy, arise. + + His love-land has ladies, with eyes held down,-- + Held down, because if they lifted them, + Why, you would be lost in that old French town, + Though you held even to God's garment hem. + + His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair, + That they bend their eyes to the holy book + Lest you should forget yourself, your prayer, + And never more cease to look and to look. + + And these are the ladies that no men see, + And this is the reason men see them not. + Better their modest sweet mystery,-- + Better by far than the battle-shot. + + And so, in this curious old town of tiles, + The proud French quarter of days long gone, + In castles of Spain and tumble-down piles + These wonderful ladies live on and on. + + I sit in the church where they come and go; + I dream of glory that has long since gone, + Of the low raised high, of the high brought low, + As in battle-torn days of Napoleon. + + These piteous places, so rich, so poor! + One quaint old church at the edge of the town + Has white tombs laid to the very church door,-- + White leaves in the story of life turned down. + + White leaves in the story of life are these, + The low white slabs in the long strong grass, + Where Glory has emptied her hour-glass + And dreams with the dreamers beneath the trees. + + I dream with the dreamers beneath the sod, + Where souls pass by to the great white throne; + I count each tomb as a mute milestone + For weary, sweet souls on their way to God. + + I sit all day by the vast, strong stream, + 'Mid low white slabs in the long strong grass + Where Time has forgotten for aye to pass, + To dream, and ever to dream and to dream. + + This quaint old church with its dead to the door, + By the cypress swamp at the edge of the town, + So restful seems that you want to sit down + And rest you, and rest you for evermore. + + And one white tomb is a lowliest tomb, + That has crept up close to the crumbling door,-- + Some penitent soul, as imploring room + Close under the cross that is leaning o'er. + + 'Tis a low white slab, and 'tis nameless, too-- + Her untold story, why, who should know? + Yet God, I reckon, can read right through + That nameless stone to the bosom below. + + And the roses know, and they pity her, too; + They bend their heads in the sun or rain, + And they read, and they read, and then read again, + As children reading strange pictures through. + + Why, surely her sleep it should be profound; + For oh the apples of gold above! + And oh the blossoms of bridal love! + And oh the roses that gather around! + + The sleep of a night, or a thousand morns? + Why what is the difference here, to-day? + Sleeping and sleeping the years away + With all earth's roses, and none of its thorns. + + Magnolias white and the roses red-- + The palm-tree here and the cypress there: + Sit down by the palm at the feet of the dead, + And hear a penitent's midnight prayer. + + +II. + + The old churchyard is still as death, + A stranger passes to and fro + As if to church--he does not go-- + The dead night does not draw a breath. + + A lone sweet lady prays within. + The stranger passes by the door-- + Will he not pray? Is he so poor + He has no prayer for his sin? + + Is he so poor! His two strong hands + Are full and heavy, as with gold; + They clasp, as clasp two iron bands + About two bags with eager hold. + + Will he not pause and enter in, + Put down his heavy load and rest, + Put off his garmenting of sin, + As some black burden from his breast? + + Ah, me! the brave alone can pray. + The church-door is as cannon's mouth + To sinner North, or sinner South, + More dreaded than dread battle day. + + Now two men pace. They pace apart, + And one with youth and truth is fair; + The fervid sun is in his heart, + The tawny South is in his hair. + + Ay, two men pace, pace left and right-- + The lone, sweet lady prays within-- + Ay, two men pace: the silent night + Kneels down in prayer for some sin. + + Lo! two men pace; and one is gray, + A blue-eyed man from snow-clad land, + With something heavy in each hand,-- + With heavy feet, as feet of clay. + + Ay, two men pace; and one is light + Of step, but still his brow is dark + His eyes are as a kindled spark + That burns beneath the brow of night! + + And still they pace. The stars are red, + The tombs are white as frosted snow; + The silence is as if the dead + Did pace in couples, to and fro. + + +III. + + The azure curtain of God's house + Draws back, and hangs star-pinned to space; + I hear the low, large moon arouse, + I see her lift her languid face. + + I see her shoulder up the east, + Low-necked, and large as womanhood,-- + Low-necked, as for some ample feast + Of gods, within yon orange-wood. + + She spreads white palms, she whispers peace,-- + Sweet peace on earth for evermore; + Sweet peace for two beneath the trees, + Sweet peace for one within the door. + + The bent stream, like a scimitar + Flashed in the sun, sweeps on and on, + Till sheathed like some great sword new-drawn + In seas beneath the Carib's star. + + The high moon climbs the sapphire hill, + The lone sweet lady prays within; + The crickets keep a clang and din-- + They are so loud, earth is so still! + + And two men glare in silence there! + The bitter, jealous hate of each + Has grown too deep for deed or speech-- + The lone, sweet lady keeps her prayer. + + The vast moon high through heaven's field + In circling chariot is rolled; + The golden stars are spun and reeled, + And woven into cloth of gold. + + The white magnolia fills the night + With perfume, as the proud moon fills + The glad earth with her ample light + From out her awful sapphire hills. + + White orange blossoms fill the boughs + Above, about the old church door,-- + They wait the bride, the bridal vows,-- + They never hung so fair before. + + The two men glare as dark as sin! + And yet all seems so fair, so white, + You would not reckon it was night,-- + The while the lady prays within. + + +IV. + + She prays so very long and late,-- + The two men, weary, waiting there,-- + The great magnolia at the gate + Bends drowsily above her prayer. + + The cypress in his cloak of moss, + That watches on in silent gloom, + Has leaned and shaped a shadow-cross + Above the nameless, lowly tomb. + + What can she pray for? What her sin? + What folly of a maid so fair? + What shadows bind the wondrous hair + Of one who prays so long within? + + The palm-trees guard in regiment, + Stand right and left without the gate; + The myrtle-moss trees wait and wait; + The tall magnolia leans intent. + + The cypress trees, on gnarled old knees, + Far out the dank and marshy deep + Where slimy monsters groan and creep, + Kneel with her in their marshy seas. + + What can her sin be? Who shall know? + The night flies by,--a bird on wing; + The men no longer to and fro + Stride up and down, or anything. + + For one so weary and so old + Has hardly strength to stride or stir; + He can but hold his bags of gold,-- + But hug his gold and wait for her. + + The two stand still,--stand face to face. + The moon slides on; the midnight air + Is perfumed as a house of prayer-- + The maiden keeps her holy place. + + Two men! And one is gray, but one + Scarce lifts a full-grown face as yet: + With light foot on life's threshold set,-- + Is he the other's sun-born son? + + And one is of the land of snow, + And one is of the land of sun; + A black-eyed burning youth is one, + But one has pulses cold and slow: + + Ay, cold and slow from clime of snow + Where Nature's bosom, icy bound, + Holds all her forces, hard, profound,-- + Holds close where all the South lets go. + + Blame not the sun, blame not the snows; + God's great schoolhouse for all is clime, + The great school-teacher, Father Time; + And each has borne as best he knows. + + At last the elder speaks,--he cries,-- + He speaks as if his heart would break; + He speaks out as a man that dies,-- + As dying for some lost love's sake: + + "Come, take this bag of gold, and go! + Come, take one bag! See, I have two! + Oh, why stand silent, staring so, + When I would share my gold with you? + + "Come, take this gold! See how I pray! + See how I bribe, and beg, and buy,-- + Ay, buy! buy love, as you, too, may + Some day before you come to die. + + "God! take this gold, I beg, I pray! + I beg as one who thirsting cries + For but one drop of drink, and dies + In some lone, loveless desert way. + + "You hesitate? Still hesitate? + Stand silent still and mock my pain? + Still mock to see me wait and wait, + And wait her love, as earth waits rain?" + + +V. + + O broken ship! O starless shore! + O black and everlasting night, + Where love comes never any more + To light man's way with heaven's light. + + A godless man with bags of gold + I think a most unholy sight; + Ah, who so desolate at night + Amid death's sleepers still and cold? + + A godless man on holy ground + I think a most unholy sight. + I hear death trailing like a hound + Hard after him, and swift to bite. + + +VI. + + The vast moon settles to the west: + Two men beside a nameless tomb, + And one would sit thereon to rest,-- + Ay, rest below, if there were room. + + What is this rest of death, sweet friend? + What is the rising up,--and where? + I say, death is a lengthened prayer, + A longer night, a larger end. + + Hear you the lesson I once learned: + I died; I sailed a million miles + Through dreamful, flowery, restful isles,-- + She was not there, and I returned. + + I say the shores of death and sleep + Are one; that when we, wearied, come + To Lethe's waters, and lie dumb, + 'Tis death, not sleep, holds us to keep. + + Yea, we lie dead for need of rest + And so the soul drifts out and o'er + The vast still waters to the shore + Beyond, in pleasant, tranquil quest: + + It sails straight on, forgetting pain, + Past isles of peace, to perfect rest,-- + Now were it best abide, or best + Return and take up life again? + + And that is all of death there is, + Believe me. If you find your love + In that far land, then like the dove + Abide, and turn not back to this. + + But if you find your love not there; + Or if your feet feel sure, and you + Have still allotted work to do,-- + Why, then return to toil and care. + + Death is no mystery. 'Tis plain + If death be mystery, then sleep + Is mystery thrice strangely deep,-- + For oh this coming back again! + + Austerest ferryman of souls! + I see the gleam of solid shores, + I hear thy steady stroke of oars + Above the wildest wave that rolls. + + O Charon, keep thy sombre ships! + We come, with neither myrrh nor balm, + Nor silver piece in open palm, + But lone white silence on our lips. + + +VII. + + She prays so long! she prays so late! + What sin in all this flower-land + Against her supplicating hand + Could have in heaven any weight? + + Prays she for her sweet self alone? + Prays she for some one far away, + Or some one near and dear to-day, + Or some poor, lorn, lost soul unknown? + + It seems to me a selfish thing + To pray forever for one's self; + It seems to me like heaping pelf + In heaven by hard reckoning. + + Why, I would rather stoop, and bear + My load of sin, and bear it well + And bravely down to burning hell, + Than ever pray one selfish prayer! + + +VIII. + + The swift chameleon in the gloom-- + This silence it is so profound!-- + Forsakes its bough, glides to the ground, + Then up, and lies across the tomb. + + It erst was green as olive-leaf, + It then grew gray as myrtle moss + The time it slid the moss across; + But now 'tis marble-white with grief. + + The little creature's hues are gone; + Here in the pale and ghostly light + It lies so pale, so panting white,-- + White as the tomb it lies upon. + + The two men by that nameless tomb, + And both so still! You might have said + These two men, they are also dead, + And only waiting here for room. + + How still beneath the orange-bough! + How tall was one, how bowed was one! + The one was as a journey done, + The other as beginning now. + + And one was young,--young with that youth + Eternal that belongs to truth; + And one was old,--old with the years + That follow fast on doubts and fears. + + And yet the habit of command + Was his, in every stubborn part; + No common knave was he at heart, + Nor his the common coward's hand. + + He looked the young man in the face, + So full of hate, so frank of hate; + The other, standing in his place, + Stared back as straight and hard as fate. + + And now he sudden turned away, + And now he paced the path, and now + Came back, beneath the orange-bough + Pale-browed, with lips as cold as clay. + + As mute as shadows on a wall, + As silent still, as dark as they, + Before that stranger, bent and gray, + The youth stood scornful, proud, and tall. + + He stood, a tall palmetto-tree + With Spanish daggers guarding it; + Nor deed, nor word, to him seemed fit + While she prayed on so silently. + + He slew his rival with his eyes; + His eyes were daggers piercing deep,-- + So deep that blood began to creep + From their deep wounds and drop wordwise: + + His eyes so black, so bright that they + Might raise the dead, the living slay, + If but the dead, the living, bore + Such hearts as heroes had of yore: + + Two deadly arrows barbed in black, + And feathered, too, with raven's wing; + Two arrows that could silent sting, + And with a death-wound answer back. + + How fierce he was! how deadly still + In that mesmeric, hateful stare + Turned on the pleading stranger there + That drew to him, despite his will: + + So like a bird down-fluttering, + Down, down, beneath a snake's bright eyes, + He stood, a fascinated thing, + That hopeless, unresisting, dies. + + He raised a hard hand as before, + Reached out the gold, and offered it + With hand that shook as ague-fit,-- + The while the youth but scorned the more. + + "You will not touch it? In God's name + Who are you, and what are you, then? + Come, take this gold, and be of men,-- + A human form with human aim. + + "Yea, take this gold,--she must be mine + She shall be mine! I do not fear + Your scowl, your scorn, your soul austere, + The living, dead, or your dark sign. + + "I saw her as she entered there; + I saw her, and uncovered stood: + The perfume of her womanhood + Was holy incense on the air. + + "She left behind sweet sanctity, + Religion lay the way she went; + I cried I would repent, repent! + She passed on, all unheeding me. + + "Her soul is young, her eyes are bright + And gladsome, as mine own are dim; + But, oh, I felt my senses swim + The time she passed me by to-night!-- + + "The time she passed, nor raised her eyes + To hear me cry I would repent, + Nor turned her head to hear my cries, + But swifter went the way she went,-- + + "Went swift as youth, for all these years! + And this the strangest thing appears, + That lady there seems just the same,-- + Sweet Gladys-- Ah! you know her name? + + "You hear her name and start that I + Should name her dear name trembling so? + Why, boy, when I shall come to die + That name shall be the last I know. + + "That name shall be the last sweet name + My lips shall utter in this life! + That name is brighter than bright flame,-- + That lady is my wedded wife! + + "Ah, start and catch your burning breath! + Ah, start and clutch your deadly knife! + If this be death, then be it death,-- + But that loved lady is my wife! + + "Yea, you are stunned! your face is white, + That I should come confronting you, + As comes a lorn ghost of the night + From out the past, and to pursue. + + "You thought me dead? You shake your head, + You start back horrified to know + That she is loved, that she is wed, + That you have sinned in loving so. + + "Yet what seems strange, that lady there, + Housed in the holy house of prayer, + Seems just the same for all her tears,-- + For all my absent twenty years. + + "Yea, twenty years to-night, to-night, + Just twenty years this day, this hour, + Since first I plucked that perfect flower, + And not one witness of the rite. + + "Nay, do not doubt,--I tell you true! + Her prayers, her tears, her constancy + Are all for me, are all for me,-- + And not one single thought for you! + + "I knew, I knew she would be here + This night of nights to pray for me! + And how could I for twenty year + Know this same night so certainly? + + "Ah me! some thoughts that we would drown + Stick closer than a brother to + The conscience, and pursue, pursue + Like baying hound to hunt us down. + + "And then, that date is history; + For on that night this shore was shelled, + And many a noble mansion felled, + With many a noble family. + + "I wore the blue; I watched the flight + Of shells like stars tossed through the air + To blow your hearth-stones--anywhere, + That wild, illuminated night. + + "Nay, rage befits you not so well: + Why, you were but a babe at best, + Your cradle some sharp bursted shell + That tore, maybe, your mother's breast! + + "Hear me! We came in honored war. + The risen world was on your track! + The whole North-land was at our back, + From Hudson's bank to the North star! + + "And from the North to palm-set sea + The splendid fiery cyclone swept. + Your fathers fell, your mothers wept, + Their nude babes clinging to the knee. + + "A wide and desolated track: + Behind, a path of ruin lay; + Before, some women by the way + Stood mutely gazing, clad in black. + + "From silent women waiting there + Some tears came down like still small rain; + Their own sons on the battle plain + Were now but viewless ghosts of air. + + "Their own dear daring boys in gray,-- + They should not see them any more; + Our cruel drums kept telling o'er + The time their own sons went away. + + "Through burning town, by bursting shell-- + Yea, I remember well that night; + I led through orange-lanes of light, + As through some hot outpost of hell! + + "That night of rainbow-shot and shell + Sent from your surging river's breast + To waken me, no more to rest,-- + That night I should remember well! + + "That night amid the maimed and dead,-- + A night in history set down + By light of many a burning town, + And written all across in red,-- + + "Her father dead, her brothers dead, + Her home in flames,--what else could she + But fly all helpless here to me, + A fluttered dove, that night of dread? + + "Short time, hot time had I to woo + Amid the red shells' battle-chime; + But women rarely reckon time, + And perils speed their love when true. + + "And then I wore a captain's sword; + And, too, had oftentime before + Doffed cap at her dead father's door, + And passed a soldier's pleasant word. + + "And then--ah, I was comely then! + I bore no load upon my back, + I heard no hounds upon my track, + But stood the tallest of tall men. + + "Her father's and her mother's shrine, + This church amid the orange wood, + So near and so secure it stood, + It seemed to beckon as a sign. + + "Its white cross seemed to beckon me: + My heart was strong, and it was mine + To throw myself upon my knee, + To beg to lead her to this shrine. + + "She did consent. Through lanes of light + I led through that church-door that night-- + Let fall your hand! Take back your face + And stand,--stand patient in your place! + + "She loved me; and she loves me still. + Yea, she clung close to me that hour + As honey-bee to honey-flower,-- + And still is mine, through good or ill. + + "The priest stood there. He spake the prayer; + He made the holy, mystic sign. + And she was mine, was wholly mine,-- + Is mine this moment I will swear! + + "Then days, then nights, of vast delight,-- + Then came a doubtful, later day; + The faithful priest, now far away, + Watched with the dying in the fight: + + "The priest amid the dying, dead, + Kept duty on the battle-field,-- + That midnight marriage unrevealed + Kept strange thoughts running through my head. + + "At last a stray ball struck the priest: + This vestibule his chancel was. + And now none lived to speak her cause, + Record, or champion her the least. + + "Hear me! I had been bred to hate + All priests, their mummeries and all. + Ah, it was fate,--ah, it was fate + That all things tempted me to fall! + + "And then the rattling songs we sang + Those nights when rudely revelling,-- + The songs that only soldiers sing,-- + Until the very tent-poles rang! + + "What is the rhyme that rhymers say + Of maidens born to be betrayed + By epaulettes and shining blade, + While soldiers love and ride away? + + "And then my comrades spake her name + Half taunting, with a touch of shame; + Taught me to hold that lily-flower + As some light pastime of the hour. + + "And then the ruin in the land, + The death, dismay, the lawlessness! + Men gathered gold on every hand,-- + Heaped gold: and why should I do less? + + "The cry for gold was in the air, + For Creole gold, for precious things; + The sword kept prodding here and there + Through bolts and sacred fastenings. + + "'Get gold! get gold!' This was the cry. + And I loved gold. What else could I + Or you, or any earnest one + Born in this getting age have done? + + "With this one lesson taught from youth, + And ever taught us, to get gold,-- + To get and hold, and ever hold,-- + What else could I have done, forsooth? + + "She, seeing how I sought for gold,-- + This girl, my wife, one late night told + Of treasures hidden close at hand, + In her dead father's mellow land: + + "Of gold she helped her brothers hide + Beneath a broad banana tree, + The day the two in battle died,-- + The night she dying fled to me. + + "It seemed too good; I laughed to scorn + Her trustful tale. She answered not; + But meekly on the morrow morn + Two massive bags of bright gold brought. + + "And when she brought this gold to me, + Red Creole gold, rich, rare, and old,-- + When I at last had gold, sweet gold, + I cried in very ecstasy! + + "Red gold! rich gold! two bags of gold! + The two stout bags of gold she brought + And gave with scarce a second thought,-- + Why, her two hands could hardly hold! + + "Now I had gold! two bags of gold! + Two wings of gold to fly, and fly + The wide world's girth; red gold to hold + Against my heart for aye and aye! + + "My country's lesson: 'Gold! get gold!' + I learned it well in land of snow; + And what can glow, so brightly glow, + Long winter nights of Northern cold? + + "Ay, now at last, at last I had + The one thing, all fair things above + My land had taught me most to love! + A miser now! and I grew mad. + + "With those two bags of gold my own, + I then began to plan that night + For flight, for far and sudden flight,-- + For flight; and, too, for flight alone. + + "I feared! I feared! My heart grew cold,-- + Some one might claim this gold of me! + I feared her,--feared her purity, + Feared all things but my bags of gold. + + "I grew to hate her face, her creed,-- + That face the fairest ever yet + That bowed o'er holy cross or bead, + Or yet was in God's image set. + + "I fled,--nay, not so knavish low + As you have fancied, did I fly; + I sought her at that shrine, and I + Told her full frankly I should go. + + "I stood a giant in my power,-- + And did she question or dispute? + I stood a savage, selfish brute,-- + She bowed her head, a lily-flower. + + "And when I sudden turned to go, + And told her I should come no more, + She bowed her head so low, so low, + Her vast black hair fell pouring o'er. + + "And that was all; her splendid face + Was mantled from me, and her night + Of hair half hid her from my sight + As she fell moaning in her place. + + "And there, 'mid her dark night of hair, + She sobbed, low moaning through her tears, + That she would wait, wait all the years,-- + Would wait and pray in her despair. + + "Nay, did not murmur, not deny,-- + She did not cross me one sweet word! + I turned and fled: I thought I heard + A night-bird's piercing low death-cry!" + + + + +THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. + +PART II. + + + How soft this moonlight of the South! + How sweet my South in soft moonlight! + I want to kiss her warm sweet mouth + As she lies sleeping here to-night. + + How still! I do not hear a mouse. + I see some bursting buds appear; + I hear God in His garden,--hear + Him trim some flowers for His house. + + I hear some singing stars; the mouth + Of my vast river sings and sings, + And pipes on reeds of pleasant things,-- + Of splendid promise for my South: + + My great South-woman, soon to rise + And tiptoe up and loose her hair; + Tiptoe, and take from all the skies + God's stars and glorious moon to wear! + + +I. + + The poet shall create or kill, + Bid heroes live, bid braggarts die. + I look against a lurid sky,-- + My silent South lies proudly still. + + The lurid light of burning lands + Still climbs to God's house overhead; + Mute women wring white withered hands; + Their eyes are red, their skies are red. + + Poor man! still boast your bitter wars! + Still burn and burn, and burning die. + But God's white finger spins the stars + In calm dominion of the sky. + + And not one ray of light the less + Comes down to bid the grasses spring; + No drop of dew nor anything + Shall fail for all your bitterness. + + The land that nursed a nation's youth, + Ye burned it, sacked it, sapped it dry. + Ye gave it falsehoods for its truth, + And fame was fashioned from a lie. + + If man grows large, is God the less? + The moon shall rise and set the same, + The great sun spill his splendid flame + And clothe the world in queenliness. + + And from that very soil ye trod + Some large-souled seeing youth shall come + Some day, and he shall not be dumb + Before the awful court of God. + + +II. + + The weary moon had turned away, + The far North-Star was turning pale + To hear the stranger's boastful tale + Of blood and flame that battle day. + + And yet again the two men glared, + Close face to face above that tomb; + Each seemed as jealous of the room + The other eager waiting shared. + + Again the man began to say,-- + As taking up some broken thread, + As talking to the patient dead,-- + The Creole was as still as they: + + "That night we burned yon grass-grown town,-- + The grasses, vines are reaching up; + The ruins they are reaching down, + As sun-browned soldiers when they sup. + + "I knew her,--knew her constancy. + She said, this night of every year + She here would come, and kneeling here, + Would pray the live-long night for me. + + "This praying seems a splendid thing! + It drives old Time the other way; + It makes him lose all reckoning + Of years that pagans have to pay. + + "This praying seems a splendid thing! + It makes me stronger as she prays-- + But oh the bitter, bitter days + When I became a banished thing! + + "I fled, took ship,--I fled as far + As far ships drive tow'rd the North-Star; + For I did hate the South, the sun + That made me think what I had done. + + "I could not see a fair palm-tree + In foreign land, in pleasant place, + But it would whisper of her face + And shake its keen sharp blades at me. + + "Each black-eyed woman would recall + A lone church-door, a face, a name, + A coward's flight, a soldier's shame: + I fled from woman's face, from all. + + "I hugged my gold, my precious gold, + Within my strong, stout, buckskin vest. + I wore my bags against my breast + So close I felt my heart grow cold. + + "I did not like to see it now; + I did not spend one single piece. + I travelled, travelled without cease + As far as Russian ship could plow. + + "And when my own scant hoard was gone, + And I had reached the far North-land, + I took my two stout bags in hand + As one pursued, and journeyed on. + + "Ah, I was weary! I grew gray; + I felt the fast years slip and reel + As slip black beads when maidens kneel + At altars when out-door is gay. + + "At last I fell prone in the road,-- + Fell fainting with my cursèd load. + A skin-clad cossack helped me bear + My bags, nor would one shilling share. + + "He looked at me with proud disdain,-- + He looked at me as if he knew; + His black eyes burned me thro' and thro'; + His scorn pierced like a deadly pain. + + "He frightened me with honesty; + He made me feel so small, so base, + I fled, as if the fiend kept chase,-- + The fiend that claims my company! + + "I bore my load alone; I crept + Far up the steep and icy way; + And there, before a cross there lay + A barefoot priest, who bowed and wept. + + "I threw my gold right down and sped + Straight on. And oh my heart was light! + A spring-time bird in spring-time flight + Flies not so happy as I fled. + + "I felt somehow this monk would take + My gold, my load from off my back; + Would turn the fiend from off my track, + Would take my gold for sweet Christ's sake! + + "I fled; I did not look behind; + I fled, fled with the mountain wind. + At last; far down the mountain's base + I found a pleasant resting-place. + + "I rested there so long, so well, + More grateful than all tongues can tell. + It was such pleasant thing to hear + That valley's voices calm and clear: + + "That valley veiled in mountain air, + With white goats on the hills at morn; + That valley green with seas of corn, + With cottage islands here and there. + + "I watched the mountain girls. The hay + They mowed was not more sweet than they; + They laid brown hands in my white hair; + They marvelled at my face of care. + + "I tried to laugh; I could but weep. + I made these peasants one request,-- + That I with them might toil or rest, + And with them sleep the long, last sleep. + + "I begged that I might battle there, + For that fair valley-land, for those + Who gave me cheer when girt with foes, + And have a country, loved and fair. + + "Where is that spot that poets name + Our country? name the hallowed land? + Where is that spot where man must stand + Or fall when girt with sword and flame? + + "Where is that one permitted spot? + Where is the one place man must fight? + Where rests the one God-given right + To fight, as ever patriots fought? + + "I say 'tis in that holy house + Where God first set us down on earth: + Where mother welcomed us at birth, + And bared her breasts, a happy spouse. + + "But when some wrong, some deed of shame, + Shall make that land no more our own-- + Ah! hunger for that holy name + My country, I have truly known! + + "The simple plough-boy from his field + Looks forth. He sees God's purple wall + Encircling him. High over all + The vast sun wheels his shining shield. + + "This King, who makes earth what it is,-- + King David bending to his toil! + O lord and master of the soil, + How envied in thy loyal bliss! + + "Long live the land we loved in youth,-- + That world with blue skies bent about, + Where never entered ugly doubt! + Long live the simple, homely truth! + + "Can true hearts love some far snow-land, + Some bleak Alaska bought with gold? + God's laws are old as love is old; + And Home is something near at hand. + + "Yea, change yon river's course; estrange + The seven sweet stars; make hate divide + The full moon from the flowing tide,-- + But this old truth ye cannot change. + + "I begged a land as begging bread; + I begged of these brave mountaineers + To share their sorrows, share their tears; + To weep as they wept, with their dead. + + "They did consent. The mountain town + Was mine to love, and valley lands. + That night the barefoot monk came down + And laid my two bags in my hands! + + "On! On! And oh the load I bore! + Why, once I dreamed my soul was lead; + Dreamed once it was a body dead! + It made my cold, hard bosom sore. + + "I dragged that body forth and back-- + O conscience, what a baying hound! + Nor frozen seas nor frosted ground + Can throw this bloodhound from his track. + + "In farthest Russia I lay down + A dying man, at last to rest; + I felt such load upon my breast + As seamen feel, who sinking drown. + + "That night, all chill and desperate, + I sprang up, for I could not rest; + I tore the two bags from my breast, + And dashed them in the burning grate. + + "I then crept back into my bed; + I tried, I begged, I prayed to sleep; + But those red, restless coins would keep + Slow dropping, dropping, and blood red. + + "I heard them clink and clink and clink,-- + They turned, they talked within that grate. + They talked of her; they made me think + Of one who still must pray and wait. + + "And when the bags burned crisp and black, + Two coins did start, roll to the floor,-- + Roll out, roll on, and then roll back, + As if they needs must journey more. + + "Ah, then I knew nor change nor space, + Nor all the drowning years that rolled + Could hide from me her haunting face, + Nor still that red-tongued talking gold. + + "Again I sprang forth from my bed! + I shook as in an ague fit; + I clutched that red gold, burning red, + I clutched, as if to strangle it. + + "I clutched it up--you hear me, boy?-- + I clutched it up with joyful tears! + I clutched it close, with such wild joy + I had not felt for years and years! + + "Such joy! for I should now retrace + My steps, should see my land, her face; + Bring back her gold this battle day, + And see her, see her, hear her pray! + + "I brought it back--you hear me, boy?-- + I clutch it, hold it, hold it now: + Red gold, bright gold that giveth joy + To all, and anywhere or how; + + "That giveth joy to all but me,-- + To all but me, yet soon to all. + It burns my hands, it burns! but she + Shall ope my hands and let it fall. + + "For oh I have a willing hand + To give these bags of gold; to see + Her smile as once she smiled on me + Here in this pleasant, warm palm-land!" + + He ceased, he thrust each hard-clenched fist, + He threw his gold hard forth again, + As one impelled by some mad pain + He would not or could not resist. + + The creole, scorning, turned away, + As if he turned from that lost thief,-- + The one that died without belief + That awful crucifixion day. + + +III. + + Believe in man, nor turn away. + Lo! man advances year by year; + Time bears him upward, and his sphere + Of life must broaden day by day. + + Believe in man with large belief; + The garnered grain each harvest-time + Hath promise, roundness, and full prime + For all the empty chaff and sheaf. + + Believe in man with proud belief: + Truth keeps the bottom of her well, + And when the thief peeps down, the thief + Peeps back at him, perpetual. + + Faint not that this or that man fell; + For one that falls a thousand rise + To lift white Progress to the skies: + Truth keeps the bottom of her well. + + Fear not for man, nor cease to delve + For cool sweet truth, with large belief. + Lo! Christ himself chose only twelve, + Yet one of these turned out a thief. + + +IV. + + Down through the dark magnolia leaves + Where climbs the rose of Cherokee + Against the orange-blossomed tree, + A loom of moonlight weaves and weaves,-- + + A loom of moonlight, weaving clothes + From snow-white rose of Cherokee, + And bridal blooms of orange-tree, + For fairy folk in fragrant rose. + + Down through the mournful myrtle crape, + Through moving moss, through ghostly gloom, + A long white moonbeam takes a shape + Above a nameless, lowly tomb; + + A long white finger through the gloom + Of grasses gathered round about,-- + As God's white finger pointing out + A name upon that nameless tomb. + + +V. + + Her white face bowed in her black hair, + The maiden prays so still within + That you might hear a falling pin,-- + Ay, hear her white unuttered prayer. + + The moon has grown disconsolate, + Has turned her down her walk of stars: + Why, she is shutting up her bars, + As maidens shut a lover's gate. + + The moon has grown disconsolate; + She will no longer watch and wait. + But two men wait; and two men will + Wait on till morning, mute and still: + + Still wait and walk among the trees, + Quite careless if the moon may keep + Her walk along her starry steep + Above the Southern pearl-sown seas. + + They know no moon, or set or rise + Of stars, or anything to light + The earth or skies, save her dark eyes, + This praying, waking, watching night. + + They move among the tombs apart, + Their eyes turn ever to that door; + They know the worn walks there by heart-- + They turn and walk them o'er and o'er. + + They are not wide, these little walks + For dead folk by this crescent town. + They lie right close when they lie down, + As if they kept up quiet talks. + + +VI. + + The two men keep their paths apart; + But more and more begins to stoop + The man with gold, as droop and droop + Tall plants with something at their heart. + + Now once again with eager zest + He offers gold with silent speech; + The other will not walk in reach, + But walks around, as round a pest. + + His dark eyes sweep the scene around, + His young face drinks the fragrant air, + His dark eyes journey everywhere,-- + The other's cleave unto the ground. + + It is a weary walk for him, + For oh he bears a weary load! + He does not like that narrow road + Between the dead--it is so dim: + + It is so dark, that narrow place, + Where graves lie thick, like yellow leaves: + Give us the light of Christ and grace, + Give light to garner in the sheaves. + + Give light of love; for gold is cold, + And gold is cruel as a crime; + It gives no light at such sad time + As when man's feet wax weak and old. + + Ay, gold is heavy, hard, and cold! + And have I said this thing before? + Well, I will tell it o'er and o'er, + 'Twere need be told ten thousand fold. + + "Give us this day our daily bread,"-- + Get this of God, then all the rest + Is housed in thine own honest breast, + If you but lift a lordly head. + + +VII. + + Oh, I have seen men, tall and fair, + Stoop down their manhood with disgust, + Stoop down God's image to the dust, + To get a load of gold to bear; + + Have seen men selling day by day + The glance of manhood that God gave: + To sell God's image as a slave + Might sell some little pot of clay! + + Behold! here in this green graveyard + A man with gold enough to fill + A coffin, as a miller's till; + And yet his path is hard, so hard! + + His feet keep sinking in the sand, + And now so near an opened grave! + He seems to hear the solemn wave + Of dread oblivion at hand. + + The sands, they grumble so, it seems + As if he walks some shelving brink. + He tries to stop, he tries to think, + He tries to make believe he dreams: + + Why, he is free to leave the land, + The silver moon is white as dawn; + Why, he has gold in either hand, + Has silver ways to walk upon. + + And who should chide, or bid him stay? + Or taunt, or threat, or bid him fly? + The world's for sale, I hear men say, + And yet this man has gold to buy. + + Buy what? Buy rest? He could not rest! + Buy gentle sleep? He could not sleep, + Though all these graves were wide and deep + As their wide mouths with the request. + + Buy Love, buy faith, buy snow-white truth? + Buy moonlight, sunlight, present, past? + Buy but one brimful cup of youth + That calm souls drink of to the last? + + O God! 'tis pitiful to see + This miser so forlorn and old! + O God! how poor a man may be + With nothing in this world but gold! + + +VIII. + + The broad magnolia's blooms are white; + Her blooms are large, as if the moon + Had lost her way some lazy night, + And lodged here till the afternoon. + + Oh, vast white blossoms breathing love! + White bosom of my lady dead, + In your white heaven overhead + I look, and learn to look above. + + +IX. + + All night the tall magnolia kept + Kind watch above the nameless tomb: + Two shapes kept waiting in the gloom + And gray of morn, where roses wept. + + The dew-wet roses wept; their eyes + All dew, their breath as sweet as prayer. + And as they wept, the dead down there + Did feel their tears and hear their sighs. + + The grass uprose as if afraid + Some stranger foot might press too near; + Its every blade was like a spear, + Its every spear a living blade. + + The grass above that nameless tomb + Stood all arrayed, as if afraid + Some weary pilgrim seeking room + And rest, might lay where she was laid. + + +X. + + 'Twas morn, and yet it was not morn; + 'Twas morn in heaven, not on earth,-- + A star was singing of a birth, + Just saying that a day was born. + + The marsh hard by that bound the lake,-- + The great low sea-lake, Ponchartrain, + Shut off from sultry Cuban main,-- + Drew up its legs, as half awake: + + Drew long stork legs, long legs that steep + In slime where alligators creep,-- + Drew long green legs that stir the grass, + As when the late lorn night-winds pass. + + Then from the marsh came croakings low, + Then louder croaked some sea-marsh beast; + Then, far away against the east, + God's rose of morn began to grow. + + From out the marsh, against that east, + A ghostly moss-swept cypress stood; + With ragged arms above the wood + It rose, a God-forsaken beast. + + It seemed so frightened where it rose! + The moss-hung thing it seemed to wave + The worn-out garments of the grave,-- + To wave and wave its old grave-clothes. + + Close by, a cow rose up and lowed + From out a palm-thatched milking-shed. + A black boy on the river road + Fled sudden, as the night had fled: + + A nude black boy, a bit of night + That had been broken off and lost + From flying night, the time it crossed + The surging river in its flight: + + A bit of darkness, following + The sable night on sable wing,-- + A bit of darkness stilled with fear, + Because that nameless tomb was near. + + Then holy bells came pealing out; + Then steamboats blew, then horses neighed; + Then smoke from hamlets round about + Crept out, as if no more afraid. + + Then shrill cocks here, and shrill cocks there, + Stretched glossy necks and filled the air. + How many cocks it takes to make + A country morning well awake! + + Then many boughs, with many birds,-- + Young boughs in green, old boughs in gray,-- + These birds had very much to say + In their soft, sweet, familiar words. + + And all seemed sudden glad; the gloom + Forgot the church, forgot the tomb; + And yet like monks with cross and bead + The myrtles leaned to read and read. + + And oh the fragrance of the sod! + And oh the perfume of the air! + The sweetness, sweetness everywhere, + That rose like incense up to God! + + I like a cow's breath in sweet spring, + I like the breath of babes new-born; + A maid's breath is a pleasant thing,-- + But oh the breath of sudden morn! + + Of sudden morn, when every pore + Of mother earth is pulsing fast + With life, and life seems spilling o'er + With love, with love too sweet to last: + + Of sudden morn beneath the sun, + By God's great river wrapped in gray, + That for a space forgets to run, + And hides his face as if to pray. + + +XI. + + The black-eyed Creole kept his eyes + Turned to the door, as eyes might turn + To see the holy embers burn + Some sin away at sacrifice. + + Full dawn! but yet he knew no dawn, + Nor song of bird, nor bird on wing, + Nor breath of rose, nor anything + Her fair face lifted not upon. + + And yet he taller stood with morn; + His bright eyes, brighter than before, + Burned fast against that fastened door, + His proud lips lifting up with scorn,-- + + With lofty, silent scorn for one + Who all night long had plead and plead, + With none to witness but the dead + How he for gold must be undone. + + Oh, ye who feed a greed for gold, + And barter truth, and trade sweet youth + For cold hard gold, behold, behold! + Behold this man! behold this truth! + + Why, what is there in all God's plan + Of vast creation, high or low, + By sea or land, by sun or snow, + So mean, so miserly as man? + + Lo, earth and heaven all let go + Their garnered riches, year by year! + The treasures of the trackless snow, + Ah, hast thou seen how very dear? + + The wide earth gives, gives golden grain, + Gives fruits of gold, gives all, gives all! + Hold forth your hand, and these shall fall + In your full palm as free as rain. + + Yea, earth is generous. The trees + Strip nude as birth-time without fear, + And their reward is year by year + To feel their fulness but increase. + + The law of Nature is to give, + To give, to give! and to rejoice + In giving with a generous voice, + And so trust God and truly live. + + But see this miser at the last,-- + This man who loves, grasps hold of gold, + Who grasps it with such eager hold, + To hold forever hard and fast: + + As if to hold what God lets go; + As if to hold, while all around + Lets go, and drops upon the ground + All things as generous as snow. + + Let go your greedy hold, I say! + Let go your hold! Do not refuse + 'Till death comes by and shakes you loose, + And sends you shamed upon your way. + + What if the sun should keep his gold? + The rich moon lock her silver up? + What if the gold-clad buttercup + Became a miser, mean and old? + + Ah, me! the coffins are so true + In all accounts, the shrouds so thin, + That down there you might sew and sew, + Nor ever sew one pocket in. + + And all that you can hold of lands + Down there, below the grass, down there, + Will only be that little share + You hold in your two dust-full hands. + + +XII. + + She comes! she comes! The stony floor + Speaks out! And now the rusty door + At last has just one word this day, + With mute religious lips, to say. + + She comes! she comes! And lo, her face + Is upward, radiant, fair as prayer! + So pure here in this holy place, + Where holy peace is everywhere. + + Her upraised face, her face of light + And loveliness, from duty done, + Is like a rising orient sun + That pushes back the brow of night. + + How brave, how beautiful is truth! + Good deeds untold are like to this. + But fairest of all fair things is + A pious maiden in her youth: + + A pious maiden as she stands + Just on the threshold of the years + That throb and pulse with hopes and fears, + And reaches God her helpless hands. + + How fair is she! How fond is she! + Her foot upon the threshold there. + Her breath is as a blossomed tree,-- + This maiden mantled in her hair! + + Her hair, her black, abundant hair, + Where night, inhabited all night + And all this day, will not take flight, + But finds content and houses there. + + Her hands are clasped, her two small hands; + They hold the holy book of prayer + Just as she steps the threshold there, + Clasped downward where she silent stands. + + +XIII. + + Once more she lifts her lowly face, + And slowly lifts her large, dark eyes + Of wonder; and in still surprise + She looks full forward in her place. + + She looks full forward on the air + Above the tomb, and yet below + The fruits of gold, the blooms of snow, + As looking--looking anywhere. + + She feels--she knows not what she feels; + It is not terror, is not fear, + But there is something that reveals + A presence that is near and dear. + + She does not let her eyes fall down, + They lift against the far profound: + Against the blue above the town + Two wide-winged vultures circle round. + + Two brown birds swim above the sea,-- + Her large eyes swim as dreamily + And follow far, and follow high, + Two circling black specks in the sky. + + One forward step,--the closing door + Creaks out, as frightened or in pain; + Her eyes are on the ground again-- + Two men are standing close before. + + "My love," sighs one, "my life, my all!" + Her lifted foot across the sill + Sinks down,--and all things are so still + You hear the orange blossoms fall. + + But fear comes not where duty is, + And purity is peace and rest; + Her cross is close upon her breast, + Her two hands clasp hard hold of this. + + Her two hands clasp cross, book, and she + Is strong in tranquil purity,-- + Ay, strong as Samson when he laid + His two hands forth, and bowed and prayed. + + One at her left, one at her right, + And she between, the steps upon,-- + I can but see that Syrian night, + The women there at early dawn + + 'Tis strange, I know, and may be wrong, + But ever pictured in my song; + And rhyming on, I see the day + They came to roll the stone away. + + +XIV. + + The sky is like an opal sea, + The air is like the breath of kine, + But oh her face is white, and she + Leans faint to see a lifted sign,-- + + To see two hands lift up and wave + To see a face so white with woe, + So ghastly, hollow, white as though + It had that moment left the grave. + + Her sweet face at that ghostly sign, + Her fair face in her weight of hair, + Is like a white dove drowning there,-- + A white dove drowned in Tuscan wine. + + He tries to stand, to stand erect. + 'Tis gold, 'tis gold that holds him down! + And soul and body both must drown,-- + Two millstones tied about his neck. + + Now once again his piteous face + Is raised to her face reaching there. + He prays such piteous, silent prayer + As prays a dying man for grace. + + It is not good to see him strain + To lift his hands, to gasp, to try + To speak. His parched lips are so dry + Their sight is as a living pain. + + I think that rich man down in hell + Some like this old man with his gold,-- + To gasp and gasp perpetual + Like to this minute I have told. + + +XV. + + At last the miser cries his pain,-- + A shrill, wild cry, as if a grave + Just ope'd its stony lips and gave + One sentence forth, then closed again. + + "'Twas twenty years last night, last night!" + His lips still moved, but not to speak; + His outstretched hands so trembling weak + Were beggar's hands in sorry plight. + + His face upturned to hers, his lips + Kept talking on, but gave no sound; + His feet were cloven to the ground; + Like iron hooks his finger-tips. + + "Ay, twenty years," she sadly sighed: + "I promised mother every year + That I would pray for father here, + As she had prayed, the night she died: + + "To pray as she prayed, fervidly; + As she had promised she would pray + The sad night of her marriage day, + For him, wherever he might be." + + Then she was still; then sudden she + Let fall her eyes, and so outspake + As if her very heart would break, + Her proud lips trembling piteously: + + "And whether he come soon or late + To kneel beside this nameless grave, + May God forgive my father's hate + As I forgive, as she forgave!" + + He saw the stone; he understood + With that quick knowledge that will come + Most quick when men are made most dumb + With terror that stops still the blood. + + And then a blindness slowly fell + On soul and body; but his hands + Held tight his bags, two iron bands, + As if to bear them into hell. + + He sank upon the nameless stone + With oh such sad, such piteous moan + As never man might seek to know + From man's most unforgiving foe. + + He sighed at last, so long, so deep, + As one heart breaking in one's sleep,-- + One long, last, weary, willing sigh, + As if it were a grace to die. + + And then his hands, like loosened bands, + Hung down, hung down on either side; + His hands hung down and opened wide: + He rested in the orange lands. + + + + +University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE. + +The following emendations have been made to the text: + + "You will not touch it? In God's name + for + 'You will not touch it? In God's name + + "That night of rainbow-shot and shell + for + That night of rainbow-shot and shell + + "That night amid the maimed and dead,-- + for + That night amid the maimed and dead,-- + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Songs of the Mexican Seas, by Joaquin Miller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS *** + +***** This file should be named 38766-8.txt or 38766-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/7/6/38766/ + +Produced by Daniel Emerson Griffith and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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*/ + h1, h2, p.author, p.publisher, p.copyright, p.press, p.dedication, + p.first-header, p.printer { + text-align:center; text-indent:0 + } + h1, p.first-header { + font-size:200%; line-height:2em; font-weight:normal; margin-top:2em + } + p.author { + margin-top:2em; font-size:80% + } + p.publisher, p.copyright, p.press, p.printer { + margin-top:6em + } + p.copyright, p.press, p.situation { + font-variant:small-caps + } + span.date { + font-variant:normal; font-style:italic + } + p.press strong { + font-weight:bold; font-variant:normal + } + p.dedication { + font-size:150%; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em + } + h2 { + margin-top:4em; font-size:150%; font-weight:bold; line-height:2em + } + h3 { + margin-top:2em; font-size:120%; font-weight:bold + } + p.printer { + border-top:thin solid black; margin-bottom:4em + } + + /* Preface */ + strong { + font-weight:normal; font-variant:small-caps + } + p.signature { + font-variant:small-caps; text-align:right + } + p.situation { + text-indent:0; padding-left:2em + } + p.situation span.date { + padding-left:4em + } + + /* Drop caps left undropped to keep indentations readable */ + span.line.has-incipit:first-letter { + font-size:200% + } + span.line span.incipit { + text-transform:uppercase + } + + /* Half-spaces used in contractions */ + abbr.contraction { + word-spacing:-0.12em + } + + /* Poetry */ + div.introductory-stanzas { + font-style:italic + } + span.ellipsis { + word-spacing:2em; line-height:0.2em + } + + /* Now sit down with a nice cup of tea and enjoy the book */ + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Songs of the Mexican Seas, by Joaquin Miller + +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: Songs of the Mexican Seas + +Author: Joaquin Miller + +Release Date: February 4, 2012 [EBook #38766] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS *** + + + + +Produced by Daniel Emerson Griffith and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="notes"><p><strong>Transcriber’s Note.</strong> A list of contents is provided below for the convenience of the reader.</p> + +<ul><li><a href="#preface">Author’s Preface</a></li> +<li><a href="#sea">The Sea of Fire</a></li> +<li><a href="#rhyme-1">The Rhyme of the Great River: <span class="kit">Part I</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#rhyme-2">The Rhyme of the Great River: <span class="kit">Part II</span></a></li></ul></div> + +<h1><a name="p1" id="p1" title="1"></a><a name="p2" id="p2" title="2"></a><a class="pagebreak" name="p3" id="p3" title="3"></a>SONGS<br /> OF<br /> THE MEXICAN SEAS</h1> + +<p class="author">BY<br /> JOAQUIN MILLER<br /> +AUTHOR OF “SONGS OF THE SIERRAS,†“SONGS OF ITALY,†ETC.</p> + +<p class="publisher">BOSTON<br /> +ROBERTS BROTHERS<br /> +1887</p> + +<div class="section"><p class="copyright"><a class="pagebreak" name="p4" id="p4" title="4"></a> <span class="date">Copyright, 1887</span>,<br /> +By Roberts Brothers.</p> + +<p class="press"><strong>University Press:</strong><br /> +John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.</p></div> + +<div class="section"><p class="dedication"><a class="pagebreak" name="p5" id="p5" title="5"></a> TO ABBIE.</p></div> + +<div class="section"><p><a name="p6" id="p6" title="6"></a><a class="pagebreak" name="p7" id="p7" title="7"></a> <strong><a name="preface" id="preface">Note.</a></strong>—The lines in this little book, as in all my others, +were written, or at least conceived, in the lands where +the scenes are laid; so that whatever may be said of the +imperfections of my work, I at least have the correct atmosphere +and color. I have now and then sent forth from +Mexico, and from remoter shores of the Gulf, fragments of +these thoughts as they rounded into form, and some of +them have been used at a Dartmouth College Commencement, +and elsewhere; but as a whole the book is new.</p> + +<p>From the heart of the Sierra, where I once more hear the +awful heart-throbs of Nature, I now intrust the first reception +of these lessons entirely to my own country. And +may I not ask in return, now at the last, when the shadows +begin to grow long, something of that consideration +which, thus far, has been accorded almost entirely by +strangers?</p> + +<p class="signature">Joaquin Miller.</p> + +<p class="situation">Mount Shasta, California,<br /> +<span class="date"><abbr title="Anno Domini">A.D.</abbr> 1887</span>.</p></div> + +<p class="first-header"><a name="p8" id="p8" title="8"></a><a class="pagebreak" name="p9" id="p9" title="9"></a> SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS.</p> + +<h2><a name="sea" id="sea">THE SEA OF FIRE.</a></h2> + +<div class="introductory-stanzas"><p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 has-incipit"><span class="incipit">In</span> that far land, farther than Yucatan,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hondurian height, or Mahogany steep,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where the great sea, hollowed by the hand of man</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hears deep come calling across to deep;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where the great seas follow in the grooves of men</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Down under the bastions of Darien:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">In that land so far that you wonder whether</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">If God would know it should you fall down dead;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In that land so far through the wilds and weather</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That the lost sun sinks like a warrior <span class="kit">sped,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where the sea and the sky seem closing together,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Seem closing together as a book that is read:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p10" id="p10" title="10"></a> <span class="line i0">In that nude warm world, where the unnamed rivers</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Roll restless in cradles of bright buried gold;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where white flashing mountains flow rivers of silver</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As a rock of the desert flowed fountains of old;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">By a <span class="remark" title="‘dark-wooded’ below">dark wooded</span> river that calls to the dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And calls all day with his dolorous swan:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">In that land of the wonderful sun and weather,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With green under foot and with gold over head,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where the spent sun flames, and you wonder whether</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1"><abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> an isle of fire in his foamy bed:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where the oceans of earth shall be welded together</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By the great French master in his forge flame <span class="kit">red,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Lo! the half-finished world! Yon footfall <span class="kit">retreating,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It might be the Maker disturbed at his task.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But the footfall of God, or the far pheasant beating,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It is one and the same, whatever the mask</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It may wear unto man. The woods keep repeating</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The old sacred sermons, whatever you ask.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p11" id="p11" title="11"></a> <span class="line i0">The brown-muzzled cattle come stealthy to drink,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The wild forest cattle, with high horns as trim</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As the elk at their side: their sleek necks are slim</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And alert like the deer. They come, then they shrink</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As afraid of their fellows, of shadow-beasts seen</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In the deeps of the dark-wooded waters of green.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It is man in his garden, scarce wakened as yet</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From the sleep that fell on him when woman was made.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The new-finished garden is plastic and wet</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From the hand that has fashioned its unpeopled shade;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And the wonder still looks from the fair woman’s eyes</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As she shines through the wood like the light from the skies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And a ship now and then from some far Ophir’s shore</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Draws in from the sea. It lies close to the bank;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Then a dull, muffled sound of the slow-shuffled plank</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As they load the black ship; but you hear nothing more,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And the dark dewy vines, and the tall sombre wood</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Like twilight droop over the deep sweeping flood.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p12" id="p12" title="12"></a> <span class="line i0">The black masts are tangled with branches that cross,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The rich, fragrant gums fall from branches to deck,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The thin ropes are swinging with streamers of moss</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That mantle all things like the shreds of a wreck;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The long mosses swing, there is never a breath:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The river rolls still as the river of death.</span></p></div> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p13" id="p13" title="13"></a> <abbr title="1.">I.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 has-incipit"><span class="incipit">In</span> the beginning,—ay, before</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The six-days’ labors were well <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr>;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Yea, while the world lay incomplete,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ere God had opened quite the door</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of this strange land for strong men’s <span class="kit">feet,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">There lay against that westmost sea</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">One weird-wild land of mystery.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A far white wall, like fallen moon,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Girt out the world. The forest lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">So deep you scarcely saw the day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Save in the high-held middle noon:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It lay a land of sleep and dreams,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And clouds drew through like shoreless streams</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That stretch to where no man may say.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Men reached it only from the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">By black-built ships, that seemed to creep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Along the shore suspiciously,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like unnamed monsters of the deep.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p14" id="p14" title="14"></a> <span class="line i0">It was the weirdest land, I ween,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That mortal eye has ever seen:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A dim, dark land of bird and beast,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Black shaggy beasts with cloven <span class="kit">claw,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A land that scarce knew prayer or priest,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Or law of man, or Nature’s law;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where no fixed line drew sharp dispute</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr title="Betwixt">’Twixt</abbr> savage man and silent brute.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="2.">II.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It hath a history most fit</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For cunning hand to fashion on;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No chronicler hath mentioned it;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No buccaneer set foot upon.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> of an outlawed Spanish <span class="kit">Don,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A cruel man, with pirate’s gold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That loaded down his deep ship’s hold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A deep ship’s hold of plundered gold!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The golden cruise, the golden cross,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From many a church of Mexico,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From Panama’s mad overthrow,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p15" id="p15" title="15"></a> <span class="line i0">From many a ransomed city’s loss,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From many a follower stanch and bold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And many a foeman stark and cold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He found this wild, lost land. He drew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His ship to shore. His ruthless crew,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like Romulus, laid lawless hand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">On meek brown maidens of the land,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And in their bloody forays bore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Red firebrands along the shore.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="3.">III.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The red men rose at night. They came,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A firm, unflinching wall of flame;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr title="Over">O’er</abbr> land of sand and level shore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That howls in far, fierce agony.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The red men swept that deep, dark shore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As threshers sweep a threshing-floor.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And yet beside the slain Don’s door</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They left his daughter, as they fled:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p16" id="p16" title="16"></a> <span class="line i0">They spared her life, because she bore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Their Chieftain’s blood and name. The red</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And blood-stained hidden hoards of gold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They hollowed from the stout ship’s hold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And bore in many a slim <span class="kit">canoe—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To where? The good priest only knew.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="4.">IV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The course of life is like the sea:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Men come and go; tides rise and fall;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And that is all of history.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The tide flows in, flows out <span class="kit">to-day,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And that is all that man may say;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Man is, man was,—and that is all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Revenge at last came like a <span class="kit">tide,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It was">’T was</abbr> sweeping, deep, and terrible;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The Christian found the land, and came</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To take possession in Christ’s name.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For every white man that had died</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I think a thousand red men <span class="kit">fell,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A Christian custom; and the land</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Lay lifeless as some burned-out brand.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p17" id="p17" title="17"></a> <abbr title="5.">V.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ere while the slain Don’s daughter grew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A glorious thing, a flower of spring,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A lithe slim reed, a sun-loved weed,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A something more than mortal knew;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A mystery of grace and <span class="kit">face,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A silent mystery that stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">An empress in that sea-set wood,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Supreme, imperial in her place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It might have been men’s lust for <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For all men knew that lawless crew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Left hoards of gold in that ship’s hold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That drew ships hence, and silent drew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Strange Jasons to that steep wood shore,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if to seek that hidden <span class="kit">store,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I never either cared or knew.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">I say it might have been this gold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That ever drew and strangely drew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Strong men of land, strange men of sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To seek this shore of mystery</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With all its wondrous tales untold:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p18" id="p18" title="18"></a> <span class="line i0">The gold or her, which of the two?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It matters not; I never knew.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">But this I know, that as for me,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Between that face and the hard fate</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That kept me ever from my own,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As some wronged monarch from his throne,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">God’s heaped-up gold of land or sea</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Had never weighed one feather’s weight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her home was on the wooded <span class="kit">height,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A woody home, a priest at prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A perfume in the fervid air,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And angels watching her at night.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I can but think upon the skies</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That bound that other Paradise.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="6.">VI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Below a star-built arch, as grand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As ever bended heaven spanned;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Tall trees like mighty columns <span class="kit">grew—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They loomed as if to pierce the blue,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They reached as reaching heaven through.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p19" id="p19" title="19"></a> <span class="line i0">The shadowed stream rolled far below,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where men moved noiseless to and fro</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As in some vast cathedral, when</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The calm of prayer comes to men,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With benedictions, bending low.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Lo! wooded sea-banks, wild and steep!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A trackless wood; a snowy cone</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That lifted from this wood alone!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This wild wide river, dark and deep!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A ship against the shore asleep!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="7.">VII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">An Indian woman crept, a crone,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Hard by about the land alone,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The relic of her perished race.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She wore rich, rudely-fashioned bands</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of gold above her bony hands:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She hissed hot curses on the place!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="8.">VIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Go seek the red man’s last retreat!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A lonesome land, the haunted lands!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p20" id="p20" title="20"></a> <span class="line i0">Red mouths of beasts, red men’s red hands:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Red prophet-priest, in mute defeat!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His boundaries in blood are writ!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His land is ghostland! That is his,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Whatever man may claim of this;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Beware how you shall enter it!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He stands God’s guardian of ghostlands;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ay, this same wrapped half-prophet stands</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">All nude and voiceless, nearer to</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The awful God than I or you.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="9.">IX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">This bronzed child, by that river’s brink,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Stood fair to see as you can think,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As tall as tall reeds at her feet,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As fresh as flowers in her hair;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As sweet as flowers over-sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As fair as vision more than fair!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How beautiful she was! How wild!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How pure as water-plant, this <span class="kit">child,—</span></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p21" id="p21" title="21"></a> <span class="line i0">This one wild child of Nature here</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Grown tall in shadows.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                        </span><span class="line i12">And how near</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To God, where no man stood between</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her eyes and scenes no man hath <span class="kit">seen,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This maiden that so mutely stood,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The one lone woman of that wood.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Stop still, my friend, and do not stir,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Shut close your page and think of her.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The birds sang sweeter for her face;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her lifted eyes were like a grace</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To seamen of that solitude,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">However rough, however rude.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The rippled rivers of her hair,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That ran in wondrous waves, somehow</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Flowed down divided by her <span class="kit">brow,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Half mantled her within its care,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And flooded all, or bronze or snow,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In its uncommon fold and flow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A perfume and an incense lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Before her, as an incense sweet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Before blithe mowers of sweet May</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p22" id="p22" title="22"></a> <span class="line i0">In early morn. Her certain feet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Embarked on no uncertain way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Come, think how perfect before men,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How sweet as sweet magnolia bloom</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Embalmed in dews of morning, when</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Rich sunlight leaps from midnight gloom</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Resolved to kiss, and swift to kiss</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ere yet morn wakens man to bliss.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="10.">X.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The days swept on. Her perfect year</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Was with her now. The sweet perfume</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of womanhood in holy bloom,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As when red harvest blooms appear,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Possessed her now. The priest did pray</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That saints alone should pass that way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A red bird built beneath her roof,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Brown squirrels crossed her cabin sill,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And welcome came or went at will.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A hermit spider wove his web,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And up against the roof would spin</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His net to catch mosquitoes in.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p23" id="p23" title="23"></a> <span class="line i0">The silly elk, the spotted fawn,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And all dumb beasts that came to drink,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That stealthy stole upon the brink</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In that dim while that lies between</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The coming night and going dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">On seeing her familiar face</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Would fearless stop and stand in place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She was so kind, the beasts of night</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Gave her the road as if her right;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The panther crouching overhead</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In sheen of moss would hear her tread</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And bend his eyes, but never stir</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Lest he by chance might frighten her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Yet in her splendid strength, her eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">There lay the lightning of the skies;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The love-hate of the lioness,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To kill the instant, or caress:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A pent-up soul that sometimes grew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Impatient; why, she hardly knew.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">At last she sighed, uprose, and threw</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her strong arms out as if to hand</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p24" id="p24" title="24"></a> <span class="line i0">Her love, sun-born and all complete</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">At birth, to some brave lover’s feet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">On some far, fair, and unseen land,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As knowing now not what to do!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="11.">XI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How beautiful she was! Why, she</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Was inspiration! She was born</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To walk God’s summer hills at morn,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Nor waste her by this wood-dark sea.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">What wonder, then, her soul’s white wings</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Beat at its bars, like living things!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Once more she sighed! She wandered through</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her hand above her face, and swept</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The lonesome sea, and all day kept</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her face to sea, as if she knew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Some day, some near or distant day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her destiny should come that way.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="12.">XII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How proud she was! How darkly fair!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How full of faith, of love, of strength!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p25" id="p25" title="25"></a> <span class="line i0">Her calm, proud eyes! Her great hair’s <span class="kit">length,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her long, strong, tumbled, careless hair,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Half curled and knotted anywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From brow to breast, from cheek to chin,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For love to trip and tangle in!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="13.">XIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">At last a tall strange sail was seen:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It came so slow, so wearily,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Came creeping cautious up the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if it crept from out between</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The half-closed sea and sky that lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Tight wedged together, far away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She watched it, wooed it. She did pray</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It might not pass her by, but bring</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Some love, some hate, some anything,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To break the awful loneliness</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That like a nightly nightmare lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Upon her proud and pent-up soul</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Until it barely brooked control.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p26" id="p26" title="26"></a> <abbr title="14.">XIV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The ship crept silent up the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And <span class="kit">came—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">            </span><span class="line i6">You cannot understand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How fair she was, how sudden she</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How gracious, yet how proud and grand;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How glorified, yet fresh and free,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How human, yet how more than good.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="15.">XV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The ship stole slowly, slowly <span class="kit">on;—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Should you in Californian field</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In ample flower-time behold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The soft south rose lift like a shield</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Against the sudden sun at dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A double handful of heaped gold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Why you, perhaps, might understand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How splendid and how queenly she</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Uprose beside that wood-set sea.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The storm-worn ship scarce seemed to creep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From wave to wave. It scarce could <span class="kit">keep—</span></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p27" id="p27" title="27"></a> <span class="line i0">How still this fair girl stood, how fair!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How proud her presence as she stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Between that vast sea and west wood!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How large and liberal her soul,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How confident, how purely chare,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How trusting; how untried the whole</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Great heart, grand faith, that blossomed there!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="16.">XVI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ay, she was as Madonna to</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The tawny, lawless, faithful few</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Who touched her hand and knew her soul:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She drew them, drew them as the pole</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Points all things to itself.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                              </span><span class="line i15">She drew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Men upward as a moon of spring,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">High wheeling, vast and bosom-full,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Half clad in clouds and white as wool,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Draws all the strong seas following.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Yet still she moved as sad, as lone</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As that same moon that leans above,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And seems to search high heaven through</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p28" id="p28" title="28"></a> <span class="line i0">For some strong, all-sufficient love,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For one brave love to be her own,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To lean upon, to love, to woo,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To lord her high white world, to yield</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His clashing sword against her shield.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Oh, I once knew a sad, white dove</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That died for such sufficient love,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Such high-born soul with wings to soar:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That stood up equal in its place,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That looked love level in the face,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Nor wearied love with leaning <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To lift love level where she trod</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In sad delight the hills of God.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="17.">XVII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How slow before the sleeping breeze,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That stranger ship from under seas!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How like to Dido by her sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">When reaching arms <span class="kit">imploringly,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her large, round, rich, impassioned arms,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Tossed forth from all her storied <span class="kit">charms,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This one lone maiden leaning stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Above that sea, beside the wood!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p29" id="p29" title="29"></a> <span class="line i0">The ship crept strangely up the seas;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her shrouds seemed shreds, her masts seemed <span class="kit">trees,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Strange tattered trees of toughest bough</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That knew no cease of storm till now.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The maiden pitied her; she prayed</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her crew might come, nor feel afraid;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She prayed the winds might come,—they came,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As birds that answer to a name.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The maiden held her blowing hair</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That bound her beauteous self about;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The sea-winds housed within her hair:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She let it go, it blew in rout</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">About her bosom full and bare.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her round, full arms were free as air,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her high hands clasped, as clasped in prayer.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="18.">XVIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The breeze grew bold, the battered ship</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Began to flap her weary wings;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The tall, torn masts began to dip</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And walk the wave like living things.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She rounded in, she struck the stream,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She moved like some majestic dream.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p30" id="p30" title="30"></a> <span class="line i0">The captain kept her deck. He stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A Hercules among his men;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And now he watched the sea, and then</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He peered as if to pierce the wood.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He now looked back, as if pursued,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Now swept the sea with glass, as though</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He fled or feared some hidden foe.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Swift sailing up the river’s mouth,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Swift tacking north, swift tacking south,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He touched the overhanging wood;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He tacked his ship; his tall black mast</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Touched tree-top mosses as he passed;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He touched the steep shore where she stood.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="19.">XIX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her hands still clasped as if in prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Sweet prayer set to silentness;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her sun-browned throat uplifted, bare</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And beautiful.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                </span><span class="line i8">Her eager face</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Illumed with love and tenderness,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And all her presence gave such grace,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p31" id="p31" title="31"></a> <span class="line i0">Dark shadowed in her cloud of hair,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That she seemed more than mortal fair.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="20.">XX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He saw. He could not speak. No more</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With lifted glass he sought the sea;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No more he watched the wild new shore.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Now foes might come, now friends might flee;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He could not speak, he would not <span class="kit">stir,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He saw but her, he feared but her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The black ship ground against the shore,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She ground against the bank as one</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With long and weary journeys done,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That would not rise to journey more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Yet still this Jason silent stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And gazed against that sun-lit wood,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As one whose soul is anywhere.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">All seemed so fair, so wondrous fair!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">At last aroused, he stepped to land</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like some Columbus. They laid hand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">On lands and fruits, and rested there.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p32" id="p32" title="32"></a> <abbr title="21.">XXI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He found all fairer than fair morn</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In sylvan land, where waters run</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With downward leap against the sun,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And full-grown sudden May is born.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He found her taller than tall corn</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Tiptoe in tassel; found her sweet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As vale where bees of Hybla meet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">An unblown rose, an unread book;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A wonder in her wondrous eyes;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A large, religious, steadfast look</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of faith, of trust,—the look of one</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">New welcomed in her Paradise.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He read this book,—read on and on</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From titlepage to colophon:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As in cool woods, some summer day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">You find delight in some sweet lay,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And so entranced read on and on</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From titlepage to colophon.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="22.">XXII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And who was he that rested <span class="kit">there,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This Hercules, so huge, so rare,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p33" id="p33" title="33"></a> <span class="line i0">This giant of a grander day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This Theseus of a nobler Greece,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This Jason of the golden fleece?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And who was he? And who were they</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That came to seek the hidden gold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Long hallowed from the pirate’s hold?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I do not know. You need not care.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 ellipsis">. . . . . .</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They loved, this maiden and this man,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And that is all I surely <span class="kit">know,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The rest is as the winds that blow.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He bowed as brave men bow to fate,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Yet proud and resolute and bold;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She, coy at first, and mute and cold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Held back and seemed to <span class="kit">hesitate,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Half frightened at this love that ran</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Hard gallop till her hot heart beat</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like sounding of swift courser’s feet.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="23.">XXIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Two strong streams of a land must run</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Together surely as the sun</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p34" id="p34" title="34"></a> <span class="line i0">The fates that reign, that wisely reign?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Love is, love was, shall be again.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like death, inevitable it is;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Perchance, like death, the dawn of bliss.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Let us, then, love the perfect day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The twelve <abbr title="of the clock">o’clock</abbr> of life, and stop</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The two hands pointing to the top,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And hold them tightly while we may.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="24.">XXIV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How piteous strange is love! The walks</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">By wooded ways; the silent talks</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Beneath the broad and fragrant bough.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The dark deep wood, the dense black dell,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where scarce a single gold beam fell</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From out the sun.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                  </span><span class="line i9">They rested now</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">On mossy trunk. They wandered then</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where never fell the feet of men.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Then longer walks, then deeper woods,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then sweeter talks, sufficient sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In denser, deeper <span class="kit">solitudes,—</span></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p35" id="p35" title="35"></a> <span class="line i0">Dear careless ways for careless feet;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Sweet talks of paradise for two,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And only two, to watch or woo.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She rarely spake. All seemed a dream</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She would not waken from. She lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">All night but waiting for the day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">When she might see his face, and deem</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This man, with all his perils passed,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Had found the Lotus-land at last.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="25.">XXV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The year waxed fervid, and the sun</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Fell central down. The forest lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A-quiver in the heat. The sea</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Below the steep bank seemed to run</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A molten sea of gold.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                      </span><span class="line i11">Away</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Against the gray and rock-built isles</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That broke the molten watery miles</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where lonesome sea-cows called all day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The sudden sun smote angrily.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p36" id="p36" title="36"></a> <span class="line i0">Therefore the need of deeper deeps,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of denser shade for man and maid,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of higher heights, of cooler steeps,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where all day long the sea-wind stayed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They sought the rock-reared steep. The breeze</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Swept twenty thousand miles of seas;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Had twenty thousand things to say</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of love, of lovers of Cathay,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To lovers <abbr title="amid">’mid</abbr> these high-held trees.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="26.">XXVI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">To left, to right, below the height,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Below the wood by wave and stream,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Plumed pampas grasses grew to gleam</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And bend their lordly plumes, and run</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And shake, as if in very fright</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Before sharp lances of the sun.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They saw the tide-bound battered ship</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Creep close below against the bank;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They saw it cringe and shrink; it shrank</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As shrinks some huge black beast with fear</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">When some uncommon dread is near.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p37" id="p37" title="37"></a> <span class="line i0">They heard the melting resin drip,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As drip the last brave blood-drops when</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Life’s battle waxes hot with men.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="27.">XXVII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Yet what to her were burning seas,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Or what to him was forest flame?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They loved; they loved the glorious trees,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The gleaming tides, or rise or fall;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They loved the lisping winds that came</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From sea-lost spice-set isles unknown,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With breath not warmer than their own:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They loved, they loved,—and that was all.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="28.">XXVIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Full noon! Below the ancient moss</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With mighty boughs high clanged across,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The man with sweet words, over-sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Fell pleading, plaintive, at her feet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He spake of love, of boundless <span class="kit">love,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of love that knew no other land,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p38" id="p38" title="38"></a> <span class="line i0">Or face, or place, or anything;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of love that like the wearied dove</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Could light nowhere, but kept the wing</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Till she alone put forth her hand,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And so received it in her ark</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From seas that shake against the dark!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He clasped her hands, climbed past her knees,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Forgot her hands and kissed her <span class="kit">hair,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The while her two hands clasped in prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And fair face lifted to the trees.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her proud breast heaved, her pure proud breast</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Rose like the waves in their unrest</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">When counter storms possess the seas.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her mouth, her arched, uplifted mouth,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her ardent mouth that thirsted <span class="kit">so,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No glowing love-song of the South</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Can say; no man can say or know</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The glory there, and so live on</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Content without that glory gone!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her face still lifted up. And she</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Disdained the cup of passion he</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Hard pressed her panting lips to touch.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p39" id="p39" title="39"></a> <span class="line i0">She dashed it by despised, and she</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Caught fast her breath. She trembled much,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And sudden rose full height, and stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">An empress in high womanhood:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She stood a tower, tall as when</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Proud Roman mothers suckled men</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of old-time truth and taught them such.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="29.">XXIX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her soul surged vast as space is. She</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Was trembling as a courser when</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His thin flank quivers, and his feet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Touch velvet on the turf, and he</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Is all afoam, alert, and fleet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As sunlight glancing on the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And full of triumph before men.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">At last she bended some her face,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Half leaned, then put him back a pace,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And met his eyes.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                  </span><span class="line i9">Calm, silently</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her eyes looked deep into his <span class="kit">eyes,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As maidens down some mossy well</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p40" id="p40" title="40"></a> <span class="line i0">Do peer in hope by chance to tell</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">By image there what future lies</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Before them, and what face shall be</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The pole-star of their destiny.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Pure Nature’s lover! Loving him</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With love that made all pathways dim</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And difficult where he was <span class="kit">not,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then marvel not at form forgot.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And who shall chide? Doth priest know aught</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of sign, or holy unction brought</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From over seas, that ever can</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Make man love maid or maid love man</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">One whit the more, one bit the less,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For all his mummeries to bless?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Yea, all his blessing or his ban?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The winds breathed warm as Araby:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She leaned upon his breast, she lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A wide-winged swan with folded wing.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He drowned his hot face in her hair,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He heard her great heart rise and sing;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He felt her bosom swell.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                          </span><span class="line i13">The air</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Swooned sweet with perfume of her form.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p41" id="p41" title="41"></a> <span class="line i0">Her breast was warm, her breath was warm,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And warm her warm and perfumed mouth</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As summer journeys through the South.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="30.">XXX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The argent sea surged steep below,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Surged languid in a tropic glow;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And two great hearts kept surging so!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The fervid kiss of heaven lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Precipitate on wood and sea.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two great souls glowed with ecstasy,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The sea glowed scarce as warm as they.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="31.">XXXI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It was">’T was</abbr> love’s low amber afternoon.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two far-off pheasants thrummed a tune,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A cricket clanged a restful air.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The dreamful billows beat a rune</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like heart regrets.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">                    </span><span class="line i10">Around her head</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">There shone a halo. Men have said</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p42" id="p42" title="42"></a> <span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It was">’T was</abbr> from a dash of Titian</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That flooded all her storm of hair</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In gold and glory. But they knew,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Yea, all men know there ever grew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A halo round about her head</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like sunlight scarcely vanishèd.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="32.">XXXII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How still she was! She only knew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His love. She saw no life beyond.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She loved with love that only lives</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Outside itself and <span class="kit">selfishness,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A love that glows in its excess;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A love that melts pure gold, and gives</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Thenceforth to all who come to woo</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No coins but this face stamped <span class="kit">thereon,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ay, this one image stamped upon</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Its face, with some dim date long gone.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="33.">XXXIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They kept the headland high; the ship</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Below began to chafe her chain,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p43" id="p43" title="43"></a> <span class="line i0">To groan as some great beast in pain;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">While white fear leapt from lip to lip:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">“The woods are fire! the woods are flame!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Come down and save us, in God’s name!â€</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He heard! he did not speak or <span class="kit">stir,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He thought of her, of only her.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">While flames behind, before them lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To hold the stoutest heart at bay!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Strange sounds were heard far up the <span class="kit">flood,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Strange, savage sounds that chilled the blood!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then sudden from the dense dark wood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Above, about them where they stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A thousand beasts came peering out;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And now was thrust a long black snout,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And now a tusky mouth. It was</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A sight to make the stoutest pause.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Cut loose the ship!†the black mate cried;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">“Cut loose the ship!†the crew replied.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They drove into the sea. It lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As light as ever middle day.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p44" id="p44" title="44"></a> <span class="line i0">The while their half-blind bitch, that sat</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">All slobber-mouthed, and monkish cowled</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With great, broad, floppy, leathern ears,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Amid the men, rose up and howled,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And doleful howled her plaintive fears,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">While all looked mute aghast thereat.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It was the grimmest eve, I think,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That ever hung on Hades’ brink.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Great broad-winged bats possessed the air,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Bats whirling blindly everywhere;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It was such troubled twilight eve</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As never mortal would believe.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="34.">XXXIV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Some say the crazed hag lit the wood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In circle where the lovers stood;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Some say the gray priest feared the crew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Might find at last the hoard of gold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Long hidden from the black ship’s <span class="kit">hold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I doubt me if men ever knew.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But such mad, howling, flame-lit shore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No mortal ever saw before.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p45" id="p45" title="45"></a> <span class="line i0">Huge beasts above that shining sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Wild, hideous beasts with shaggy hair,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With red mouths lifting in the air,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They piteous howled, and <span class="kit">plaintively,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The wildest sounds, the weirdest sight</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That ever shook the walls of night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How lorn they howled, with lifted head,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To dim and distant isles that lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Wedged tight along a line of red,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Caught in the closing gates of day</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr title="Betwixt">’Twixt</abbr> sky and sea and far <span class="kit">away,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It was the saddest sound to hear</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That ever struck on human ear.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They doleful called; and answered they</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The plaintive sea-cows far <span class="kit">away,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The great sea-cows that called from isles,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Away across wide watery miles,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With dripping mouths and lolling tongue,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if they called for captured <span class="kit">young,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The huge sea-cows that called the whiles</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Their great wide mouths were mouthing moss;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And still they doleful called across</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p46" id="p46" title="46"></a> <span class="line i0">From isles beyond the watery miles.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">No sound can half so doleful be</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As sea-cows calling from the sea.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="35.">XXXV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The drowned sun sank and died. He lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In seas of blood. He sinking drew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The gates of sunset sudden to,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where shattered day in fragments lay,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And night came, moving in mad flame:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The night came, lighted as he came,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As lighted by high summer sun</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Descending through the burning blue.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It was a gold and amber hue,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And all hues blended into one.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The night spilled splendor where she came,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And filled the yellow world with flame.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The moon came on, came leaning low</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Along the far sea-isles aglow;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She fell along that amber flood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A silver flame in seas of blood.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p47" id="p47" title="47"></a> <span class="line i0">It was the strangest moon, ah me!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That ever settled on God’s sea.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="36.">XXXVI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Slim snakes slid down from fern and grass,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From wood, from fen, from anywhere;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">You could not step, you would not pass,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And you would hesitate to stir,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Lest in some sudden, hurried tread</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Your foot struck some unbruisèd head:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They slid in streams into the <span class="kit">stream,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It seemed like some infernal dream;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They curved, and graceful curved across,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like graceful, waving sea-green <span class="kit">moss,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">There is no art of man can make</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A ripple like a rippling snake!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="37.">XXXVII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Abandoned, lorn, the lovers stood,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Abandoned there, death in the air!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That beetling steep, that blazing <span class="kit">wood,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Red flame! and red flame everywhere!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p48" id="p48" title="48"></a> <span class="line i0">Yet was he born to strive, to bear</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The front of battle. He would die</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In noble effort, and defy</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The grizzled visage of despair.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He threw his two strong arms full length</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if to surely test their strength;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then tore his vestments, textile things</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That could but tempt the demon wings</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of flame that girt them round about,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then threw his garments to the air</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As one that laughed at death, at doubt,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And like a god stood grand and bare.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She did not hesitate; she knew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The need of action; swift she threw</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her burning vestments by, and bound</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her wondrous wealth of hair that fell</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">An all-concealing cloud around</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her glorious presence, as he came</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To seize and bear her through the <span class="kit">flame,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">An Orpheus out of burning hell!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He leaned above her, wound his arm</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">About her splendor, while the noon</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p49" id="p49" title="49"></a> <span class="line i0">Of flood-tide, manhood, flushed his face,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And high flames leapt the high <span class="kit">headland!—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They stood as twin-hewn statues stand,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">High lifted in some storied place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He clasped her close, he spoke of <span class="kit">death,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of death and love in the same breath.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He clasped her close; her bosom lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like ship safe anchored in some bay.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="38.">XXXVIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The flames! They could not stand or stay;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Before the beetling steep, the sea!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But at his feet a narrow way,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A short steep path, pitched suddenly</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Safe open to the river’s beach,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where lay a small white isle in <span class="kit">reach,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A small, white, rippled isle of sand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where yet the two might safely land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And there, through smoke and flame, behold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The priest stood safe, yet all appalled!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He reached the cross; he cried, he called;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He waved his high-held cross of gold.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p50" id="p50" title="50"></a> <span class="line i0">He called and called, he bade them fly</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Through flames to him, nor bide and die!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her lover saw; he saw, and knew</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His giant strength would bear her through.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And yet he would not start or stir.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He clasped her close as death can hold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Or dying miser clasp his <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His hold became a part of her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He would not give her up! He would</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Not bear her waveward though he could!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That height was heaven; the wave was hell.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He clasped her close,—what else had done</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The manliest man beneath the sun?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Was it not well? was it not well?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">O man, be glad! be grandly glad,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And kinglike walk thy ways of death!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For more than years of bliss you had</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That one brief time you breathed her breath.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Yea, more than years upon a throne</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That one brief time you held her fast,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Soul surged to soul, vehement, <span class="kit">vast,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">True breast to breast, and all your own.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p51" id="p51" title="51"></a> <span class="line i0">Live me one day, one narrow night,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">One second of supreme delight</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like that, and I will blow like chaff</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The hollow years aside, and laugh</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A loud triumphant laugh, and I,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">King-like and crowned, will gladly die.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Oh, but to wrap my love with flame!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With flame within, with flame without!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Oh, but to die like this, nor <span class="kit">doubt—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To die and know her still the same!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To know that down the ghostly shore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Snow-white she waits me evermore!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="39.">XXXIX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He poised her, held her high in <span class="kit">air,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His great strong limbs, his great arm’s <span class="kit">length!—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then turned his knotted shoulders bare</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As birth-time in his splendid strength,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And strode, strode with a lordly stride</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To where the high and wood-hung edge</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Looked down, far down upon the molten tide.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The flames leapt with him to the ledge,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The flames leapt leering at his side.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p52" id="p52" title="52"></a> <abbr title="40.">XL.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He leaned above the ledge. Below</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He saw the black ship idly <span class="kit">cruise,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A midge below, a mile below.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His limbs were knotted as the thews</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of Hercules in his death-throe.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The flame! the flame! the envious flame!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She wound her arms, she wound her hair</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">About his tall form, grand and bare,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To stay the fierce flame where it came.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The black ship, like some moonlit wreck,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Below along the burning sea</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Crept on and on all silently,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With silent pygmies on her deck.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">That midge-like ship far, far below;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That mirage lifting from the hill!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His flame-lit form began to <span class="kit">grow,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To grow and grow more grandly still.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The ship so small, that form so tall,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It grew to tower over all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A tall Colossus, bronze and gold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if that flame-lit form were he</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p53" id="p53" title="53"></a> <span class="line i0">Who once bestrode the Rhodian sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And ruled the watery world of old:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if the lost Colossus stood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Above that burning sea of wood.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And she, that shapely form upheld,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Held high, as if to touch the sky,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">What airy shape, how shapely <span class="kit">high,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A goddess of the seas of eld!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her hand upheld, her high right hand,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if she would forget the land;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if to gather stars, and heap</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The stars like torches there to light</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her Hero’s path across the deep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To some far isle that fearful night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It was as if Colossus came,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Came proudly reaching from the flame</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Above the sea in sheen of gold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His sea-bride leaping from his hold;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The lost Colossus, and his bride</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In bronze perfection at his side:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if the lost Colossus came</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p54" id="p54" title="54"></a> <span class="line i0">Companioned from the past, his bride</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With torch all faithful at his side:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">With star-tipped torch that reached and rolled</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Through cloud-built corridors of gold:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His bride, austere and stern and <span class="kit">grand,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Bartholdi’s goddess by the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Far lifting, lighting Liberty</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From prison seas to Freedom’s land.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="41.">XLI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The flame! the envious flame, it leapt</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Enraged to see such majesty,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Such scorn of death; such kingly scorn.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then like some lightning-riven tree</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They sank down in that flame—and slept</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And all was hushed above that steep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">So still, that they might sleep and sleep;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As still as when a day is born.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">At last! from out the embers leapt</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two shafts of light above the <span class="kit">night,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two wings of flame that lifting swept</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In steady, calm, and upward flight;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p55" id="p55" title="55"></a> <span class="line i0">Two wings of flame against the white</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Far-lifting, tranquil, snowy cone;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two wings of love, two wings of light,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Far, far above that troubled night,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As mounting, mounting to God’s throne.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="42.">XLII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And all night long that upward light</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Lit up the sea-cow’s bed below:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The far sea-cows still calling so</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It seemed as they must call all night.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">All night! there was no night. Nay, nay,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">There was no night. The night that lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Between that awful eve and <span class="kit">day,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That nameless night was burned away.</span></p> + +<h2><a name="p56" id="p56" title="56"></a><a name="p57" id="p57" title="57"></a><a name="p58" id="p58" title="58"></a><a class="pagebreak" name="p59" id="p59" title="59"></a> <a name="rhyme-1" id="rhyme-1">THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER.</a><br /> + +PART <abbr title="1.">I.</abbr></h2> + +<div class="introductory-stanzas"><p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 has-incipit"><span class="incipit">Rhyme</span> on, rhyme on in reedy flow,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">O river, rhymer ever sweet!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The story of thy land is meet,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The stars stand listening to know.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Rhyme on, O river of the earth!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Gray father of the dreadful seas,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Rhyme on! the world upon its knees</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Shall yet invoke thy wealth and worth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Rhyme on, the reed is at thy mouth,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">O kingly minstrel, mighty stream!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Thy Crescent City, like a dream,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Hangs in the heaven of my South.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p60" id="p60" title="60"></a> <span class="line i0">Rhyme on, rhyme on! these broken strings</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sing sweetest in this warm south wind;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I sit thy willow banks and bind</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A broken harp that fitful sings.</span></p></div> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p61" id="p61" title="61"></a> <abbr title="1.">I.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 has-incipit"><span class="incipit">And</span> where is my city, sweet blossom-sown town?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And what is her glory, and what has she done?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By the Mexican seas in the path of the sun</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Sit you down: in the crescent of seas sit you down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ay, glory enough by my Mexican seas!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ay, story enough in that battle-torn town,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hidden down in the crescent of seas, hidden down</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr title="Amid">’Mid</abbr> mantle and sheen of magnolia-strown trees.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">But mine is the story of souls; of a soul</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That bartered God’s limitless kingdom for <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sold stars and all space for a thing he could hold</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In his palm for a day, ere he hid with the mole.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p62" id="p62" title="62"></a> <span class="line i0">O father of waters! O river so vast!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">So deep, so strong, and so wondrous <span class="kit">wild,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He embraces the land as he rushes past,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Like a savage father embracing his child.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His sea-land is true and so valiantly true,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His leaf-land is fair and so marvellous fair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His palm-land is filled with a perfumed air</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of magnolia blooms to its dome of blue.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His rose-land has arbors of moss-swept <span class="kit">oak,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Gray, Druid old oaks; and the moss that sways</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And swings in the wind is the battle-smoke</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of duellists, dead in her storied days.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His love-land has churches and bells and chimes;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His love-land has altars and orange flowers;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And that is the reason for all these <span class="kit">rhymes,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">These bells, they are ringing through all the hours!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His sun-land has churches, and priests at prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">White nuns, as white as the far north snow;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They go where danger may bid them <span class="kit">go,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They dare when the angel of death is there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p63" id="p63" title="63"></a> <span class="line i0">His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In the Creole quarter, with great black <span class="kit">eyes,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">So fair that the Mayor must keep them there</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Lest troubles, like troubles of Troy, arise.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His love-land has ladies, with eyes held <span class="kit">down,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Held down, because if they lifted them,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Why, you would be lost in that old French town,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Though you held even to God’s garment hem.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That they bend their eyes to the holy book</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Lest you should forget yourself, your prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And never more cease to look and to look.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And these are the ladies that no men see,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And this is the reason men see them not.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Better their modest sweet <span class="kit">mystery,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Better by far than the battle-shot.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And so, in this curious old town of tiles,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The proud French quarter of days long gone,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In castles of Spain and tumble-down piles</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">These wonderful ladies live on and on.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p64" id="p64" title="64"></a> <span class="line i0">I sit in the church where they come and go;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I dream of glory that has long since gone,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of the low raised high, of the high brought low,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As in battle-torn days of Napoleon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">These piteous places, so rich, so poor!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">One quaint old church at the edge of the town</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Has white tombs laid to the very church <span class="kit">door,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">White leaves in the story of life turned down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">White leaves in the story of life are these,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The low white slabs in the long strong grass,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where Glory has emptied her hour-glass</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And dreams with the dreamers beneath the trees.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">I dream with the dreamers beneath the sod,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where souls pass by to the great white throne;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I count each tomb as a mute milestone</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For weary, sweet souls on their way to God.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">I sit all day by the vast, strong stream,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1"><abbr title="Amid">’Mid</abbr> low white slabs in the long strong grass</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where Time has forgotten for aye to pass,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To dream, and ever to dream and to dream.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p65" id="p65" title="65"></a> <span class="line i0">This quaint old church with its dead to the door,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By the cypress swamp at the edge of the town,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">So restful seems that you want to sit down</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And rest you, and rest you for evermore.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And one white tomb is a lowliest tomb,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That has crept up close to the crumbling <span class="kit">door,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Some penitent soul, as imploring room</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Close under the cross that is leaning <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr>.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> a low white slab, and <abbr class="contraction" title="it is">’t is</abbr> nameless, <span class="kit">too—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her untold story, why, who should know?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Yet God, I reckon, can read right through</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That nameless stone to the bosom below.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And the roses know, and they pity her, too;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They bend their heads in the sun or rain,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And they read, and they read, and then read again,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As children reading strange pictures through.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Why, surely her sleep it should be profound;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For oh the apples of gold above!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And oh the blossoms of bridal love!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And oh the roses that gather around!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p66" id="p66" title="66"></a> <span class="line i0">The sleep of a night, or a thousand morns?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Why what is the difference here, to-day?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sleeping and sleeping the years away</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With all earth’s roses, and none of its thorns.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Magnolias white and the roses <span class="kit">red—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The palm-tree here and the cypress there:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Sit down by the palm at the feet of the dead,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And hear a penitent’s midnight prayer.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="2.">II.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The old churchyard is still as death,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A stranger passes to and fro</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As if to church—he does not <span class="kit">go—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The dead night does not draw a breath.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A lone sweet lady prays within.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The stranger passes by the <span class="kit">door—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Will he not pray? Is he so poor</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He has no prayer for his sin?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p67" id="p67" title="67"></a> <span class="line i0">Is he so poor! His two strong hands</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Are full and heavy, as with gold;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They clasp, as clasp two iron bands</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">About two bags with eager hold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Will he not pause and enter in,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Put down his heavy load and rest,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Put off his garmenting of sin,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As some black burden from his breast?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ah, me! the brave alone can pray.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The church-door is as cannon’s mouth</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To sinner North, or sinner South,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">More dreaded than dread battle day.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Now two men pace. They pace apart,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And one with youth and truth is fair;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The fervid sun is in his heart,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The tawny South is in his hair.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ay, two men pace, pace left and <span class="kit">right—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The lone, sweet lady prays <span class="kit">within—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ay, two men pace: the silent night</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Kneels down in prayer for some sin.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p68" id="p68" title="68"></a> <span class="line i0">Lo! two men pace; and one is gray,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A blue-eyed man from snow-clad land,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With something heavy in each <span class="kit">hand,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With heavy feet, as feet of clay.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ay, two men pace; and one is light</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of step, but still his brow is dark</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His eyes are as a kindled spark</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That burns beneath the brow of night!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And still they pace. The stars are red,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The tombs are white as frosted snow;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The silence is as if the dead</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Did pace in couples, to and fro.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="3.">III.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The azure curtain of God’s house</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Draws back, and hangs star-pinned to space;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I hear the low, large moon arouse,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I see her lift her languid face.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">I see her shoulder up the east,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Low-necked, and large as <span class="kit">womanhood,—</span></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p69" id="p69" title="69"></a> <span class="line i0">Low-necked, as for some ample feast</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of gods, within yon orange-wood.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She spreads white palms, she whispers <span class="kit">peace,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sweet peace on earth for evermore;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Sweet peace for two beneath the trees,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sweet peace for one within the door.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The bent stream, like a scimitar</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Flashed in the sun, sweeps on and on,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Till sheathed like some great sword new-drawn</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In seas beneath the Carib’s star.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The high moon climbs the sapphire hill,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The lone sweet lady prays within;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The crickets keep a clang and <span class="kit">din—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They are so loud, earth is so still!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And two men glare in silence there!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The bitter, jealous hate of each</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Has grown too deep for deed or <span class="kit">speech—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The lone, sweet lady keeps her prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The vast moon high through heaven’s field</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In circling chariot is rolled;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p70" id="p70" title="70"></a> <span class="line i0">The golden stars are spun and reeled,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And woven into cloth of gold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The white magnolia fills the night</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With perfume, as the proud moon fills</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The glad earth with her ample light</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From out her awful sapphire hills.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">White orange blossoms fill the boughs</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Above, about the old church <span class="kit">door,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They wait the bride, the bridal <span class="kit">vows,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They never hung so fair before.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The two men glare as dark as sin!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And yet all seems so fair, so white,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">You would not reckon it was <span class="kit">night,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The while the lady prays within.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="4.">IV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She prays so very long and <span class="kit">late,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The two men, weary, waiting <span class="kit">there,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The great magnolia at the gate</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Bends drowsily above her prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p71" id="p71" title="71"></a> <span class="line i0">The cypress in his cloak of moss,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That watches on in silent gloom,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Has leaned and shaped a shadow-cross</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Above the nameless, lowly tomb.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">What can she pray for? What her sin?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">What folly of a maid so fair?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">What shadows bind the wondrous hair</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of one who prays so long within?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The palm-trees guard in regiment,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stand right and left without the gate;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The myrtle-moss trees wait and wait;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The tall magnolia leans intent.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The cypress trees, on gnarled old knees,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Far out the dank and marshy deep</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where slimy monsters groan and creep,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Kneel with her in their marshy seas.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">What can her sin be? Who shall know?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The night flies by,—a bird on wing;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The men no longer to and fro</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stride up and down, or anything.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p72" id="p72" title="72"></a> <span class="line i0">For one so weary and so old</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Has hardly strength to stride or stir;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He can but hold his bags of <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But hug his gold and wait for her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The two stand still,—stand face to face.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The moon slides on; the midnight air</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is perfumed as a house of <span class="kit">prayer—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The maiden keeps her holy place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Two men! And one is gray, but one</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Scarce lifts a full-grown face as yet:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With light foot on life’s threshold <span class="kit">set,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Is he the other’s sun-born son?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And one is of the land of snow,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And one is of the land of sun;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A black-eyed burning youth is one,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But one has pulses cold and slow:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ay, cold and slow from clime of snow</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where Nature’s bosom, icy bound,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Holds all her forces, hard, <span class="kit">profound,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Holds close where all the South lets go.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p73" id="p73" title="73"></a> <span class="line i0">Blame not the sun, blame not the snows;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">God’s great schoolhouse for all is clime,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The great school-teacher, Father Time;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And each has borne as best he knows.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">At last the elder speaks,—he <span class="kit">cries,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He speaks as if his heart would break;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He speaks out as a man that <span class="kit">dies,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As dying for some lost love’s sake:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Come, take this bag of gold, and go!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Come, take one bag! See, I have two!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Oh, why stand silent, staring so,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">When I would share my gold with you?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Come, take this gold! See how I pray!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">See how I bribe, and beg, and <span class="kit">buy,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ay, buy! buy love, as you, too, may</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some day before you come to die.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“God! take this gold, I beg, I pray!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I beg as one who thirsting cries</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For but one drop of drink, and dies</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In some lone, loveless desert way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p74" id="p74" title="74"></a> <span class="line i0">“You hesitate? Still hesitate?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stand silent still and mock my pain?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Still mock to see me wait and wait,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And wait her love, as earth waits rain?â€</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="5.">V.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">O broken ship! O starless shore!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">O black and everlasting night,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Where love comes never any more</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To light man’s way with heaven’s light.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A godless man with bags of gold</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I think a most unholy sight;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ah, who so desolate at night</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Amid death’s sleepers still and cold?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A godless man on holy ground</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I think a most unholy sight.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I hear death trailing like a hound</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hard after him, and swift to bite.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p75" id="p75" title="75"></a> <abbr title="6.">VI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The vast moon settles to the west:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two men beside a nameless tomb,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And one would sit thereon to <span class="kit">rest,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ay, rest below, if there were room.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">What is this rest of death, sweet friend?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">What is the rising up,—and where?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I say, death is a lengthened prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A longer night, a larger end.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Hear you the lesson I once learned:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I died; I sailed a million miles</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Through dreamful, flowery, restful <span class="kit">isles,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She was not there, and I returned.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">I say the shores of death and sleep</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Are one; that when we, wearied, come</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To Lethe’s waters, and lie dumb,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> death, not sleep, holds us to keep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Yea, we lie dead for need of rest</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And so the soul drifts out and <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The vast still waters to the shore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Beyond, in pleasant, tranquil quest:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p76" id="p76" title="76"></a> <span class="line i0">It sails straight on, forgetting pain,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Past isles of peace, to perfect <span class="kit">rest,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Now were it best abide, or best</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Return and take up life again?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And that is all of death there is,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Believe me. If you find your love</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In that far land, then like the dove</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Abide, and turn not back to this.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">But if you find your love not there;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Or if your feet feel sure, and you</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Have still allotted work to <span class="kit">do,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Why, then return to toil and care.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Death is no mystery. <abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> plain</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">If death be mystery, then sleep</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is mystery thrice strangely <span class="kit">deep,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For oh this coming back again!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Austerest ferryman of souls!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I see the gleam of solid shores,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I hear thy steady stroke of oars</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Above the wildest wave that rolls.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p77" id="p77" title="77"></a> <span class="line i0">O Charon, keep thy sombre ships!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">We come, with neither myrrh nor balm,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor silver piece in open palm,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But lone white silence on our lips.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="7.">VII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She prays so long! she prays so late!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">What sin in all this flower-land</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Against her supplicating hand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Could have in heaven any weight?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Prays she for her sweet self alone?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Prays she for some one far away,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Or some one near and dear to-day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Or some poor, lorn, lost soul unknown?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It seems to me a selfish thing</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To pray forever for one’s self;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It seems to me like heaping pelf</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In heaven by hard reckoning.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Why, I would rather stoop, and bear</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">My load of sin, and bear it well</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And bravely down to burning hell,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Than ever pray one selfish prayer!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p78" id="p78" title="78"></a> <abbr title="8.">VIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The swift chameleon in the <span class="kit">gloom—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This silence it is so <span class="kit">profound!—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Forsakes its bough, glides to the ground,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then up, and lies across the tomb.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It erst was green as olive-leaf,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It then grew gray as myrtle moss</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The time it slid the moss across;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But now <abbr class="contraction" title="it is">’t is</abbr> marble-white with grief.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The little creature’s hues are gone;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Here in the pale and ghostly light</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It lies so pale, so panting <span class="kit">white,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">White as the tomb it lies upon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The two men by that nameless tomb,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And both so still! You might have said</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">These two men, they are also dead,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And only waiting here for room.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How still beneath the orange-bough!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">How tall was one, how bowed was one!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The one was as a journey done,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The other as beginning now.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p79" id="p79" title="79"></a> <span class="line i0">And one was young,—young with that youth</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Eternal that belongs to truth;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And one was old,—old with the years</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That follow fast on doubts and fears.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And yet the habit of command</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Was his, in every stubborn part;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">No common knave was he at heart,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Nor his the common coward’s hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He looked the young man in the face,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">So full of hate, so frank of hate;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The other, standing in his place,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stared back as straight and hard as fate.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And now he sudden turned away,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And now he paced the path, and now</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Came back, beneath the orange-bough</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Pale-browed, with lips as cold as clay.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">As mute as shadows on a wall,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As silent still, as dark as they,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Before that stranger, bent and gray,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The youth stood scornful, proud, and tall.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p80" id="p80" title="80"></a> <span class="line i0">He stood, a tall palmetto-tree</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With Spanish daggers guarding it;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor deed, nor word, to him seemed fit</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">While she prayed on so silently.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He slew his rival with his eyes;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His eyes were daggers piercing <span class="kit">deep,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">So deep that blood began to creep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From their deep wounds and drop wordwise:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His eyes so black, so bright that they</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Might raise the dead, the living slay,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">If but the dead, the living, bore</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Such hearts as heroes had of yore:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Two deadly arrows barbed in black,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And feathered, too, with raven’s wing;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two arrows that could silent sting,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And with a death-wound answer back.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How fierce he was! how deadly still</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In that mesmeric, hateful stare</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Turned on the pleading stranger there</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That drew to him, despite his will:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p81" id="p81" title="81"></a> <span class="line i0">So like a bird down-fluttering,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Down, down, beneath a snake’s bright eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He stood, a fascinated thing,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That hopeless, unresisting, dies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He raised a hard hand as before,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Reached out the gold, and offered it</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With hand that shook as <span class="kit">ague-fit,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The while the youth but scorned the more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><span class="remark" title="Original reads: ‘You"><a name="emendation-1" id="emendation-1">“</a>You</span> will not touch it? In God’s name</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Who are you, and what are you, then?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Come, take this gold, and be of <span class="kit">men,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A human form with human aim.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Yea, take this gold,—she must be mine</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">She shall be mine! I do not fear</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Your scowl, your scorn, your soul austere,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The living, dead, or your dark sign.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I saw her as she entered there;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I saw her, and uncovered stood:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The perfume of her womanhood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Was holy incense on the air.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p82" id="p82" title="82"></a> <span class="line i0">“She left behind sweet sanctity,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Religion lay the way she went;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I cried I would repent, repent!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She passed on, all unheeding me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Her soul is young, her eyes are bright</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And gladsome, as mine own are dim;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But, oh, I felt my senses swim</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The time she passed me by <span class="kit">to-night!—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“The time she passed, nor raised her eyes</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To hear me cry I would repent,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Nor turned her head to hear my cries,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But swifter went the way she <span class="kit">went,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Went swift as youth, for all these years!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And this the strangest thing appears,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That lady there seems just the <span class="kit">same,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Sweet Gladys— Ah! you know her name?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“You hear her name and start that I</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Should name her dear name trembling so?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Why, boy, when I shall come to die</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That name shall be the last I know.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p83" id="p83" title="83"></a> <span class="line i0">“That name shall be the last sweet name</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">My lips shall utter in this life!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That name is brighter than bright <span class="kit">flame,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That lady is my wedded wife!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Ah, start and catch your burning breath!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ah, start and clutch your deadly knife!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">If this be death, then be it <span class="kit">death,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But that loved lady is my wife!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Yea, you are stunned! your face is white,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That I should come confronting you,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As comes a lorn ghost of the night</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From out the past, and to pursue.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“You thought me dead? You shake your head,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">You start back horrified to know</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That she is loved, that she is wed,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That you have sinned in loving so.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Yet what seems strange, that lady there,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Housed in the holy house of prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Seems just the same for all her <span class="kit">tears,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For all my absent twenty years.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p84" id="p84" title="84"></a> <span class="line i0">“Yea, twenty years to-night, to-night,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Just twenty years this day, this hour,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Since first I plucked that perfect flower,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And not one witness of the rite.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Nay, do not doubt,—I tell you true!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her prayers, her tears, her constancy</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Are all for me, are all for <span class="kit">me,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And not one single thought for you!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I knew, I knew she would be here</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This night of nights to pray for me!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And how could I for twenty year</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Know this same night so certainly?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Ah me! some thoughts that we would drown</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stick closer than a brother to</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The conscience, and pursue, pursue</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like baying hound to hunt us down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And then, that date is history;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For on that night this shore was shelled,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And many a noble mansion felled,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With many a noble family.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p85" id="p85" title="85"></a> <span class="line i0">“I wore the blue; I watched the flight</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of shells like stars tossed through the air</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To blow your hearth-stones—anywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That wild, illuminated night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Nay, rage befits you not so well:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Why, you were but a babe at best,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Your cradle some sharp bursted shell</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That tore, maybe, your mother’s breast!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Hear me! We came in honored war.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The risen world was on your track!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The whole North-land was at our back,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From Hudson’s bank to the North star!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And from the North to palm-set sea</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The splendid fiery cyclone swept.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Your fathers fell, your mothers wept,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Their nude babes clinging to the knee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“A wide and desolated track:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Behind, a path of ruin lay;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Before, some women by the way</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Stood mutely gazing, clad in black.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p86" id="p86" title="86"></a> <span class="line i0">“From silent women waiting there</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some tears came down like still small rain;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Their own sons on the battle plain</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Were now but viewless ghosts of air.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Their own dear daring boys in <span class="kit">gray,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They should not see them any more;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Our cruel drums kept telling <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The time their own sons went away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Through burning town, by bursting <span class="kit">shell—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Yea, I remember well that night;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I led through orange-lanes of light,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As through some hot outpost of hell!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><!-- Original missing quote --><a name="emendation-2" id="emendation-2">“</a>That night of rainbow-shot and shell</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sent from your surging river’s breast</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To waken me, no more to <span class="kit">rest,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That night I should remember well!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><!-- Original missing quote --><a name="emendation-3" id="emendation-3">“</a>That night amid the maimed and <span class="kit">dead,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A night in history set down</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By light of many a burning town,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And written all across in <span class="kit">red,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p87" id="p87" title="87"></a> <span class="line i0">“Her father dead, her brothers dead,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her home in flames,—what else could she</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But fly all helpless here to me,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A fluttered dove, that night of dread?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Short time, hot time had I to woo</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Amid the red shells’ battle-chime;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But women rarely reckon time,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And perils speed their love when true.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And then I wore a captain’s sword;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And, too, had oftentime before</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Doffed cap at her dead father’s door,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And passed a soldier’s pleasant word.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And then—ah, I was comely then!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I bore no load upon my back,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I heard no hounds upon my track,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But stood the tallest of tall men.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Her father’s and her mother’s shrine,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This church amid the orange wood,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">So near and so secure it stood,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It seemed to beckon as a sign.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p88" id="p88" title="88"></a> <span class="line i0">“Its white cross seemed to beckon me:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">My heart was strong, and it was mine</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To throw myself upon my knee,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To beg to lead her to this shrine.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“She did consent. Through lanes of light</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I led through that church-door that <span class="kit">night—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Let fall your hand! Take back your face</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And stand,—stand patient in your place!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“She loved me; and she loves me still.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Yea, she clung close to me that hour</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As honey-bee to <span class="kit">honey-flower,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And still is mine, through good or ill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“The priest stood there. He spake the prayer;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He made the holy, mystic sign.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And she was mine, was wholly <span class="kit">mine,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Is mine this moment I will swear!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Then days, then nights, of vast <span class="kit">delight,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Then came a doubtful, later day;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The faithful priest, now far away,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Watched with the dying in the fight:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p89" id="p89" title="89"></a> <span class="line i0">“The priest amid the dying, dead,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Kept duty on the <span class="kit">battle-field,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That midnight marriage unrevealed</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Kept strange thoughts running through my head.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“At last a stray ball struck the priest:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This vestibule his chancel was.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And now none lived to speak her cause,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Record, or champion her the least.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Hear me! I had been bred to hate</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">All priests, their mummeries and all.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ah, it was fate,—ah, it was fate</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That all things tempted me to fall!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And then the rattling songs we sang</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Those nights when rudely <span class="kit">revelling,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The songs that only soldiers <span class="kit">sing,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Until the very tent-poles rang!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“What is the rhyme that rhymers say</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of maidens born to be betrayed</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By epaulettes and shining blade,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">While soldiers love and ride away?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p90" id="p90" title="90"></a> <span class="line i0">“And then my comrades spake her name</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Half taunting, with a touch of shame;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Taught me to hold that lily-flower</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As some light pastime of the hour.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And then the ruin in the land,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The death, dismay, the lawlessness!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Men gathered gold on every <span class="kit">hand,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Heaped gold: and why should I do less?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“The cry for gold was in the air,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For Creole gold, for precious things;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The sword kept prodding here and there</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Through bolts and sacred fastenings.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“‘Get gold! get gold!’ This was the cry.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And I loved gold. What else could I</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Or you, or any earnest one</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Born in this getting age have done?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“With this one lesson taught from youth,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And ever taught us, to get <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To get and hold, and ever <span class="kit">hold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">What else could I have done, forsooth?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p91" id="p91" title="91"></a> <span class="line i0">“She, seeing how I sought for <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">This girl, my wife, one late night told</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of treasures hidden close at hand,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In her dead father’s mellow land:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Of gold she helped her brothers hide</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Beneath a broad banana tree,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The day the two in battle <span class="kit">died,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The night she dying fled to me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“It seemed too good; I laughed to scorn</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her trustful tale. She answered not;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But meekly on the morrow morn</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two massive bags of bright gold brought.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And when she brought this gold to me,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Red Creole gold, rich, rare, and <span class="kit">old,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">When I at last had gold, sweet gold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I cried in very ecstasy!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Red gold! rich gold! two bags of gold!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The two stout bags of gold she brought</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And gave with scarce a second <span class="kit">thought,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Why, her two hands could hardly hold!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p92" id="p92" title="92"></a> <span class="line i0">“Now I had gold! two bags of gold!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two wings of gold to fly, and fly</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The wide world’s girth; red gold to hold</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Against my heart for aye and aye!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“My country’s lesson: ‘Gold! get gold!’</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I learned it well in land of snow;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And what can glow, so brightly glow,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Long winter nights of Northern cold?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Ay, now at last, at last I had</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The one thing, all fair things above</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">My land had taught me most to love!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A miser now! and I grew mad.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“With those two bags of gold my own,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I then began to plan that night</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For flight, for far and sudden <span class="kit">flight,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For flight; and, too, for flight alone.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I feared! I feared! My heart grew <span class="kit">cold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some one might claim this gold of me!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I feared her,—feared her purity,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Feared all things but my bags of gold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p93" id="p93" title="93"></a> <span class="line i0">“I grew to hate her face, her <span class="kit">creed,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That face the fairest ever yet</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That bowed <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr> holy cross or bead,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Or yet was in God’s image set.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I fled,—nay, not so knavish low</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As you have fancied, did I fly;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I sought her at that shrine, and I</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Told her full frankly I should go.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I stood a giant in my <span class="kit">power,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And did she question or dispute?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I stood a savage, selfish <span class="kit">brute,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She bowed her head, a lily-flower.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And when I sudden turned to go,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And told her I should come no more,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She bowed her head so low, so low,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her vast black hair fell pouring <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr>.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And that was all; her splendid face</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Was mantled from me, and her night</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of hair half hid her from my sight</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As she fell moaning in her place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p94" id="p94" title="94"></a> <span class="line i0">“And there, <abbr title="amid">’mid</abbr> her dark night of hair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">She sobbed, low moaning through her tears,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That she would wait, wait all the <span class="kit">years,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Would wait and pray in her despair.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Nay, did not murmur, not <span class="kit">deny,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">She did not cross me one sweet word!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I turned and fled: I thought I heard</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A night-bird’s piercing low death-cry!â€</span></p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="p95" id="p95" title="95"></a> <a name="rhyme-2" id="rhyme-2">THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER.</a><br /> + +PART <abbr title="2.">II.</abbr></h2> + +<div class="introductory-stanzas"><p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 has-incipit"><span class="incipit">How</span> soft this moonlight of the South!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">How sweet my South in soft moonlight!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I want to kiss her warm sweet mouth</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As she lies sleeping here to-night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How still! I do not hear a mouse.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I see some bursting buds appear;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I hear God in His garden,—hear</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Him trim some flowers for His house.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">I hear some singing stars; the mouth</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of my vast river sings and sings,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And pipes on reeds of pleasant <span class="kit">things,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of splendid promise for my South:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p96" id="p96" title="96"></a> <span class="line i0">My great South-woman, soon to rise</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And tiptoe up and loose her hair;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Tiptoe, and take from all the skies</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">God’s stars and glorious moon to wear!</span></p></div> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p97" id="p97" title="97"></a> <abbr title="1.">I.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0 has-incipit"><span class="incipit">The</span> poet shall create or kill,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Bid heroes live, bid braggarts die.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I look against a lurid <span class="kit">sky,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">My silent South lies proudly still.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The lurid light of burning lands</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Still climbs to God’s house overhead;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Mute women wring white withered hands;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Their eyes are red, their skies are red.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Poor man! still boast your bitter wars!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Still burn and burn, and burning die.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But God’s white finger spins the stars</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In calm dominion of the sky.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And not one ray of light the less</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Comes down to bid the grasses spring;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">No drop of dew nor anything</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Shall fail for all your bitterness.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p98" id="p98" title="98"></a> <span class="line i0">The land that nursed a nation’s youth,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ye burned it, sacked it, sapped it dry.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ye gave it falsehoods for its truth,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And fame was fashioned from a lie.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">If man grows large, is God the less?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The moon shall rise and set the same,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The great sun spill his splendid flame</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And clothe the world in queenliness.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And from that very soil ye trod</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some large-souled seeing youth shall come</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some day, and he shall not be dumb</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Before the awful court of God.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="2.">II.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The weary moon had turned away,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The far North-Star was turning pale</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To hear the stranger’s boastful tale</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of blood and flame that battle day.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And yet again the two men glared,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Close face to face above that tomb;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Each seemed as jealous of the room</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The other eager waiting shared.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p99" id="p99" title="99"></a> <span class="line i0">Again the man began to <span class="kit">say,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As taking up some broken thread,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As talking to the patient <span class="kit">dead,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The Creole was as still as they:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“That night we burned yon grass-grown <span class="kit">town,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The grasses, vines are reaching up;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The ruins they are reaching down,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As sun-browned soldiers when they sup.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I knew her,—knew her constancy.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">She said, this night of every year</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">She here would come, and kneeling here,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Would pray the live-long night for me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“This praying seems a splendid thing!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It drives old Time the other way;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It makes him lose all reckoning</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of years that pagans have to pay.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“This praying seems a splendid thing!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It makes me stronger as she <span class="kit">prays—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But oh the bitter, bitter days</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">When I became a banished thing!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p100" id="p100" title="100"></a> <span class="line i0">“I fled, took ship,—I fled as far</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As far ships drive <abbr title="toward">tow’rd</abbr> the North-Star;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For I did hate the South, the sun</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That made me think what I had done.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I could not see a fair palm-tree</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In foreign land, in pleasant place,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But it would whisper of her face</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And shake its keen sharp blades at me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Each black-eyed woman would recall</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A lone church-door, a face, a name,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A coward’s flight, a soldier’s shame:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I fled from woman’s face, from all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I hugged my gold, my precious gold,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Within my strong, stout, buckskin vest.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I wore my bags against my breast</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">So close I felt my heart grow cold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I did not like to see it now;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I did not spend one single piece.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I travelled, travelled without cease</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As far as Russian ship could plow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p101" id="p101" title="101"></a> <span class="line i0">“And when my own scant hoard was gone,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And I had reached the far North-land,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I took my two stout bags in hand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As one pursued, and journeyed on.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Ah, I was weary! I grew gray;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I felt the fast years slip and reel</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As slip black beads when maidens kneel</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">At altars when out-door is gay.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“At last I fell prone in the <span class="kit">road,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Fell fainting with my cursèd load.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A skin-clad cossack helped me bear</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">My bags, nor would one shilling share.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“He looked at me with proud <span class="kit">disdain,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He looked at me as if he knew;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His black eyes burned me <abbr title="through">thro’</abbr> and <abbr title="through">thro’</abbr>;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His scorn pierced like a deadly pain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“He frightened me with honesty;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He made me feel so small, so base,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I fled, as if the fiend kept <span class="kit">chase,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The fiend that claims my company!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p102" id="p102" title="102"></a> <span class="line i0">“I bore my load alone; I crept</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Far up the steep and icy way;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And there, before a cross there lay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A barefoot priest, who bowed and wept.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I threw my gold right down and sped</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Straight on. And oh my heart was light!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A spring-time bird in spring-time flight</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Flies not so happy as I fled.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I felt somehow this monk would take</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">My gold, my load from off my back;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Would turn the fiend from off my track,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Would take my gold for sweet Christ’s sake!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I fled; I did not look behind;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I fled, fled with the mountain wind.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">At last; far down the mountain’s base</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I found a pleasant resting-place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I rested there so long, so well,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">More grateful than all tongues can tell.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It was such pleasant thing to hear</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That valley’s voices calm and clear:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p103" id="p103" title="103"></a> <span class="line i0">“That valley veiled in mountain air,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With white goats on the hills at morn;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That valley green with seas of corn,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With cottage islands here and there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I watched the mountain girls. The hay</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They mowed was not more sweet than they;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They laid brown hands in my white hair;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They marvelled at my face of care.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I tried to laugh; I could but weep.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I made these peasants one <span class="kit">request,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That I with them might toil or rest,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And with them sleep the long, last sleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I begged that I might battle there,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For that fair valley-land, for those</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Who gave me cheer when girt with foes,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And have a country, loved and fair.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Where is that spot that poets name</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Our country? name the hallowed land?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where is that spot where man must stand</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Or fall when girt with sword and flame?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p104" id="p104" title="104"></a> <span class="line i0">“Where is that one permitted spot?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where is the one place man must fight?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where rests the one God-given right</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To fight, as ever patriots fought?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I say <abbr class="contraction" title="it is">’t is</abbr> in that holy house</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where God first set us down on earth:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where mother welcomed us at birth,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And bared her breasts, a happy spouse.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“But when some wrong, some deed of shame,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Shall make that land no more our <span class="kit">own—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ah! hunger for that holy name</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">My country, I have truly known!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“The simple plough-boy from his field</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Looks forth. He sees God’s purple wall</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Encircling him. High over all</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The vast sun wheels his shining shield.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“This King, who makes earth what it <span class="kit">is,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">King David bending to his toil!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">O lord and master of the soil,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How envied in thy loyal bliss!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p105" id="p105" title="105"></a> <span class="line i0">“Long live the land we loved in <span class="kit">youth,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That world with blue skies bent about,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where never entered ugly doubt!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Long live the simple, homely truth!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Can true hearts love some far snow-land,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some bleak Alaska bought with gold?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">God’s laws are old as love is old;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And Home is something near at hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Yea, change yon river’s course; estrange</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The seven sweet stars; make hate divide</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The full moon from the flowing <span class="kit">tide,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But this old truth ye cannot change.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I begged a land as begging bread;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I begged of these brave mountaineers</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To share their sorrows, share their tears;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To weep as they wept, with their dead.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“They did consent. The mountain town</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Was mine to love, and valley lands.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That night the barefoot monk came down</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And laid my two bags in my hands!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p106" id="p106" title="106"></a> <span class="line i0">“On! On! And oh the load I bore!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Why, once I dreamed my soul was lead;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Dreamed once it was a body dead!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It made my cold, hard bosom sore.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I dragged that body forth and <span class="kit">back—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">O conscience, what a baying hound!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor frozen seas nor frosted ground</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Can throw this bloodhound from his track.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“In farthest Russia I lay down</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A dying man, at last to rest;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I felt such load upon my breast</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As seamen feel, who sinking drown.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“That night, all chill and desperate,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I sprang up, for I could not rest;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I tore the two bags from my breast,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And dashed them in the burning grate.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I then crept back into my bed;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I tried, I begged, I prayed to sleep;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But those red, restless coins would keep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Slow dropping, dropping, and blood red.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p107" id="p107" title="107"></a> <span class="line i0">“I heard them clink and clink and <span class="kit">clink,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They turned, they talked within that grate.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They talked of her; they made me think</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of one who still must pray and wait.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And when the bags burned crisp and black,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two coins did start, roll to the <span class="kit">floor,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Roll out, roll on, and then roll back,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As if they needs must journey more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Ah, then I knew nor change nor space,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor all the drowning years that rolled</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Could hide from me her haunting face,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor still that red-tongued talking gold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Again I sprang forth from my bed!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I shook as in an ague fit;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I clutched that red gold, burning red,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I clutched, as if to strangle it.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I clutched it up—you hear me, <span class="kit">boy?—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I clutched it up with joyful tears!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I clutched it close, with such wild joy</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I had not felt for years and years!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p108" id="p108" title="108"></a> <span class="line i0">“Such joy! for I should now retrace</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">My steps, should see my land, her face;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Bring back her gold this battle day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And see her, see her, hear her pray!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“I brought it back—you hear me, <span class="kit">boy?—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I clutch it, hold it, hold it now:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Red gold, bright gold that giveth joy</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To all, and anywhere or how;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“That giveth joy to all but <span class="kit">me,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To all but me, yet soon to all.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It burns my hands, it burns! but she</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Shall ope my hands and let it fall.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“For oh I have a willing hand</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To give these bags of gold; to see</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her smile as once she smiled on me</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Here in this pleasant, warm palm-land!â€</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He ceased, he thrust each hard-clenched fist,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He threw his gold hard forth again,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As one impelled by some mad pain</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He would not or could not resist.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p109" id="p109" title="109"></a> <span class="line i0">The creole, scorning, turned away,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As if he turned from that lost <span class="kit">thief,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The one that died without belief</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That awful crucifixion day.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="3.">III.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Believe in man, nor turn away.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Lo! man advances year by year;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Time bears him upward, and his sphere</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of life must broaden day by day.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Believe in man with large belief;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The garnered grain each harvest-time</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hath promise, roundness, and full prime</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For all the empty chaff and sheaf.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Believe in man with proud belief:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Truth keeps the bottom of her well,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And when the thief peeps down, the thief</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Peeps back at him, perpetual.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p110" id="p110" title="110"></a> <span class="line i0">Faint not that this or that man fell;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For one that falls a thousand rise</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To lift white Progress to the skies:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Truth keeps the bottom of her well.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Fear not for man, nor cease to delve</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For cool sweet truth, with large belief.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Lo! Christ himself chose only twelve,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Yet one of these turned out a thief.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="4.">IV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Down through the dark magnolia leaves</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where climbs the rose of Cherokee</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Against the orange-blossomed tree,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A loom of moonlight weaves and <span class="kit">weaves,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A loom of moonlight, weaving clothes</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From snow-white rose of Cherokee,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And bridal blooms of orange-tree,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For fairy folk in fragrant rose.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p111" id="p111" title="111"></a> <span class="line i0">Down through the mournful myrtle crape,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Through moving moss, through ghostly gloom,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A long white moonbeam takes a shape</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Above a nameless, lowly tomb;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A long white finger through the gloom</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of grasses gathered round <span class="kit">about,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As God’s white finger pointing out</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A name upon that nameless tomb.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="5.">V.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her white face bowed in her black hair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The maiden prays so still within</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That you might hear a falling <span class="kit">pin,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ay, hear her white unuttered prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The moon has grown disconsolate,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Has turned her down her walk of stars:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Why, she is shutting up her bars,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As maidens shut a lover’s gate.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The moon has grown disconsolate;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She will no longer watch and wait.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p112" id="p112" title="112"></a> <span class="line i0">But two men wait; and two men will</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Wait on till morning, mute and still:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Still wait and walk among the trees,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Quite careless if the moon may keep</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her walk along her starry steep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Above the Southern pearl-sown seas.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They know no moon, or set or rise</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of stars, or anything to light</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The earth or skies, save her dark eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This praying, waking, watching night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They move among the tombs apart,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Their eyes turn ever to that door;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They know the worn walks there by <span class="kit">heart—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They turn and walk them <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr> and <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr>.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">They are not wide, these little walks</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For dead folk by this crescent town.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They lie right close when they lie down,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if they kept up quiet talks.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p113" id="p113" title="113"></a> <abbr title="6.">VI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The two men keep their paths apart;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But more and more begins to stoop</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The man with gold, as droop and droop</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Tall plants with something at their heart.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Now once again with eager zest</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He offers gold with silent speech;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The other will not walk in reach,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But walks around, as round a pest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His dark eyes sweep the scene around,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His young face drinks the fragrant air,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His dark eyes journey <span class="kit">everywhere,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The other’s cleave unto the ground.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It is a weary walk for him,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">For oh he bears a weary load!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He does not like that narrow road</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Between the dead—it is so dim:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It is so dark, that narrow place,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where graves lie thick, like yellow leaves:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="p114" id="p114" title="114"></a> <span class="line i0">Give us the light of Christ and grace,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Give light to garner in the sheaves.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Give light of love; for gold is cold,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And gold is cruel as a crime;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It gives no light at such sad time</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As when man’s feet wax weak and old.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ay, gold is heavy, hard, and cold!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And have I said this thing before?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Well, I will tell it <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr> and <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr>,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It were">’T were</abbr> need be told ten thousand fold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Give us this day our daily <span class="kit">bread,â€â€”</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Get this of God, then all the rest</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is housed in thine own honest breast,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">If you but lift a lordly head.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="7.">VII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Oh, I have seen men, tall and fair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stoop down their manhood with disgust,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stoop down God’s image to the dust,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To get a load of gold to bear;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p115" id="p115" title="115"></a> <span class="line i0">Have seen men selling day by day</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The glance of manhood that God gave:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To sell God’s image as a slave</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Might sell some little pot of clay!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Behold! here in this green graveyard</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A man with gold enough to fill</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A coffin, as a miller’s till;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And yet his path is hard, so hard!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His feet keep sinking in the sand,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And now so near an opened grave!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He seems to hear the solemn wave</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Of dread oblivion at hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The sands, they grumble so, it seems</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As if he walks some shelving brink.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He tries to stop, he tries to think,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He tries to make believe he dreams:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Why, he is free to leave the land,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The silver moon is white as dawn;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Why, he has gold in either hand,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Has silver ways to walk upon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p116" id="p116" title="116"></a> <span class="line i0">And who should chide, or bid him stay?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Or taunt, or threat, or bid him fly?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The <abbr class="contraction" title="world is">world ’s</abbr> for sale, I hear men say,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And yet this man has gold to buy.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Buy what? Buy rest? He could not rest!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Buy gentle sleep? He could not sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Though all these graves were wide and deep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As their wide mouths with the request.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Buy Love, buy faith, buy snow-white truth?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Buy moonlight, sunlight, present, past?</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Buy but one brimful cup of youth</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That calm souls drink of to the last?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">O God! <abbr class="contraction" title="it is">’t is</abbr> pitiful to see</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This miser so forlorn and old!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">O God! how poor a man may be</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With nothing in this world but gold!</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="8.">VIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The broad magnolia’s blooms are white;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her blooms are large, as if the moon</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Had lost her way some lazy night,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And lodged here till the afternoon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p117" id="p117" title="117"></a> <span class="line i0">Oh, vast white blossoms breathing love!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">White bosom of my lady dead,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In your white heaven overhead</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I look, and learn to look above.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="9.">IX.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">All night the tall magnolia kept</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Kind watch above the nameless tomb:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two shapes kept waiting in the gloom</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And gray of morn, where roses wept.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The dew-wet roses wept; their eyes</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">All dew, their breath as sweet as prayer.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And as they wept, the dead down there</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Did feel their tears and hear their sighs.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The grass uprose as if afraid</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some stranger foot might press too near;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Its every blade was like a spear,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Its every spear a living blade.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The grass above that nameless tomb</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Stood all arrayed, as if afraid</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Some weary pilgrim seeking room</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And rest, might lay where she was laid.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p118" id="p118" title="118"></a> <abbr title="10.">X.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It was">’T was</abbr> morn, and yet it was not morn;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1"><abbr class="contraction" title="It was">’T was</abbr> morn in heaven, not on <span class="kit">earth,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A star was singing of a birth,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Just saying that a day was born.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The marsh hard by that bound the <span class="kit">lake,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The great low sea-lake, Ponchartrain,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Shut off from sultry Cuban <span class="kit">main,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Drew up its legs, as half awake:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Drew long stork legs, long legs that steep</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In slime where alligators <span class="kit">creep,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Drew long green legs that stir the grass,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As when the late lorn night-winds pass.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Then from the marsh came croakings low,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Then louder croaked some sea-marsh beast;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Then, far away against the east,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">God’s rose of morn began to grow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p119" id="p119" title="119"></a> <span class="line i0">From out the marsh, against that east,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A ghostly moss-swept cypress stood;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With ragged arms above the wood</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It rose, a God-forsaken beast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It seemed so frightened where it rose!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The moss-hung thing it seemed to wave</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The worn-out garments of the <span class="kit">grave,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To wave and wave its old grave-clothes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Close by, a cow rose up and lowed</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From out a palm-thatched milking-shed.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A black boy on the river road</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Fled sudden, as the night had fled:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A nude black boy, a bit of night</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That had been broken off and lost</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">From flying night, the time it crossed</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The surging river in its flight:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A bit of darkness, following</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The sable night on sable <span class="kit">wing,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A bit of darkness stilled with fear,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Because that nameless tomb was near.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p120" id="p120" title="120"></a> <span class="line i0">Then holy bells came pealing out;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Then steamboats blew, then horses neighed;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Then smoke from hamlets round about</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Crept out, as if no more afraid.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Then shrill cocks here, and shrill cocks there,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Stretched glossy necks and filled the air.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How many cocks it takes to make</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A country morning well awake!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Then many boughs, with many <span class="kit">birds,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Young boughs in green, old boughs in <span class="kit">gray,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">These birds had very much to say</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In their soft, sweet, familiar words.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And all seemed sudden glad; the gloom</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Forgot the church, forgot the tomb;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And yet like monks with cross and bead</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The myrtles leaned to read and read.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And oh the fragrance of the sod!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And oh the perfume of the air!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The sweetness, sweetness everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That rose like incense up to God!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p121" id="p121" title="121"></a> <span class="line i0">I like a cow’s breath in sweet spring,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">I like the breath of babes new-born;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A maid’s breath is a pleasant <span class="kit">thing,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But oh the breath of sudden morn!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Of sudden morn, when every pore</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of mother earth is pulsing fast</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With life, and life seems spilling <abbr title="over">o’er</abbr></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With love, with love too sweet to last:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Of sudden morn beneath the sun,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By God’s great river wrapped in gray,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That for a space forgets to run,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And hides his face as if to pray.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="11.">XI.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The black-eyed Creole kept his eyes</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Turned to the door, as eyes might turn</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To see the holy embers burn</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Some sin away at sacrifice.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p122" id="p122" title="122"></a> <span class="line i0">Full dawn! but yet he knew no dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor song of bird, nor bird on wing,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor breath of rose, nor anything</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her fair face lifted not upon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And yet he taller stood with morn;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His bright eyes, brighter than before,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Burned fast against that fastened door,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His proud lips lifting up with <span class="kit">scorn,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">With lofty, silent scorn for one</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Who all night long had plead and plead,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With none to witness but the dead</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">How he for gold must be undone.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Oh, ye who feed a greed for gold,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And barter truth, and trade sweet youth</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For cold hard gold, behold, behold!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Behold this man! behold this truth!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Why, what is there in all God’s plan</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of vast creation, high or low,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">By sea or land, by sun or snow,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">So mean, so miserly as man?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p123" id="p123" title="123"></a> <span class="line i0">Lo, earth and heaven all let go</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Their garnered riches, year by year!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">The treasures of the trackless snow,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Ah, hast thou seen how very dear?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The wide earth gives, gives golden grain,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Gives fruits of gold, gives all, gives all!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hold forth your hand, and these shall fall</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">In your full palm as free as rain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Yea, earth is generous. The trees</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Strip nude as birth-time without fear,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And their reward is year by year</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To feel their fulness but increase.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The law of Nature is to give,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To give, to give! and to rejoice</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In giving with a generous voice,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And so trust God and truly live.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">But see this miser at the <span class="kit">last,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This man who loves, grasps hold of gold,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Who grasps it with such eager hold,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To hold forever hard and fast:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p124" id="p124" title="124"></a> <span class="line i0">As if to hold what God lets go;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As if to hold, while all around</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Lets go, and drops upon the ground</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">All things as generous as snow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Let go your greedy hold, I say!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Let go your hold! Do not refuse</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1"><abbr title="Until">’Till</abbr> death comes by and shakes you loose,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And sends you shamed upon your way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">What if the sun should keep his gold?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The rich moon lock her silver up?</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">What if the gold-clad buttercup</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Became a miser, mean and old?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Ah, me! the coffins are so true</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">In all accounts, the shrouds so thin,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That down there you might sew and sew,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Nor ever sew one pocket in.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And all that you can hold of lands</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Down there, below the grass, down there,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Will only be that little share</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">You hold in your two dust-full hands.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="p125" id="p125" title="125"></a> <abbr title="12.">XII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She comes! she comes! The stony floor</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Speaks out! And now the rusty door</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">At last has just one word this day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With mute religious lips, to say.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She comes! she comes! And lo, her face</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is upward, radiant, fair as prayer!</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">So pure here in this holy place,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where holy peace is everywhere.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her upraised face, her face of light</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And loveliness, from duty done,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is like a rising orient sun</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">That pushes back the brow of night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">How brave, how beautiful is truth!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Good deeds untold are like to this.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">But fairest of all fair things is</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1"><!-- Indentation error in original -->A pious maiden in her youth:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">A pious maiden as she stands</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Just on the threshold of the years</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That throb and pulse with hopes and fears,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And reaches God her helpless hands.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p126" id="p126" title="126"></a> <span class="line i0">How fair is she! How fond is she!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her foot upon the threshold there.</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her breath is as a blossomed <span class="kit">tree,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">This maiden mantled in her hair!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her hair, her black, abundant hair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Where night, inhabited all night</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And all this day, will not take flight,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But finds content and houses there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her hands are clasped, her two small hands;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They hold the holy book of prayer</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Just as she steps the threshold there,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Clasped downward where she silent stands.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="13.">XIII.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Once more she lifts her lowly face,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And slowly lifts her large, dark eyes</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Of wonder; and in still surprise</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">She looks full forward in her place.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She looks full forward on the air</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Above the tomb, and yet below</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The fruits of gold, the blooms of snow,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As looking—looking anywhere.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p127" id="p127" title="127"></a> <span class="line i0">She feels—she knows not what she feels;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">It is not terror, is not fear,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But there is something that reveals</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A presence that is near and dear.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">She does not let her eyes fall down,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">They lift against the far profound:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Against the blue above the town</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Two wide-winged vultures circle round.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Two brown birds swim above the <span class="kit">sea,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her large eyes swim as dreamily</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And follow far, and follow high,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two circling black specks in the sky.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">One forward step,—the closing door</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Creaks out, as frightened or in pain;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her eyes are on the ground <span class="kit">again—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two men are standing close before.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“My love,†sighs one, “my life, my all!â€</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her lifted foot across the sill</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Sinks down,—and all things are so still</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">You hear the orange blossoms fall.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p128" id="p128" title="128"></a> <span class="line i0">But fear comes not where duty is,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And purity is peace and rest;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her cross is close upon her breast,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her two hands clasp hard hold of this.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her two hands clasp cross, book, and she</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Is strong in tranquil <span class="kit">purity,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Ay, strong as Samson when he laid</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">His two hands forth, and bowed and prayed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">One at her left, one at her right,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And she between, the steps <span class="kit">upon,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">I can but see that Syrian night,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The women there at early dawn</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0"><abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> strange, I know, and may be wrong,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But ever pictured in my song;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">And rhyming on, I see the day</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">They came to roll the stone away.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="14.">XIV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">The sky is like an opal sea,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The air is like the breath of kine,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">But oh her face is white, and she</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Leans faint to see a lifted <span class="kit">sign,—</span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p129" id="p129" title="129"></a> <span class="line i0">To see two hands lift up and wave</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To see a face so white with woe,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">So ghastly, hollow, white as though</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">It had that moment left the grave.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Her sweet face at that ghostly sign,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Her fair face in her weight of hair,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is like a white dove drowning <span class="kit">there,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">A white dove drowned in Tuscan wine.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He tries to stand, to stand erect.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1"><abbr class="contraction" title="It is">’T is</abbr> gold, <abbr class="contraction" title="it is">’t is</abbr> gold that holds him down!</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">And soul and body both must <span class="kit">drown,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Two millstones tied about his neck.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Now once again his piteous face</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Is raised to her face reaching there.</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">He prays such piteous, silent prayer</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As prays a dying man for grace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">It is not good to see him strain</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To lift his hands, to gasp, to try</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To speak. His parched lips are so dry</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Their sight is as a living pain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p130" id="p130" title="130"></a> <span class="line i0">I think that rich man down in hell</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Some like this old man with his <span class="kit">gold,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">To gasp and gasp perpetual</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Like to this minute I have told.</span></p> + +<h3><abbr title="15.">XV.</abbr></h3> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">At last the miser cries his <span class="kit">pain,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">A shrill, wild cry, as if a grave</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Just <abbr title="opened">ope’d</abbr> its stony lips and gave</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">One sentence forth, then closed again.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“<abbr class="contraction" title="It was">’T was</abbr> twenty years last night, last night!â€</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His lips still moved, but not to speak;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His outstretched hands so trembling weak</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Were beggar’s hands in sorry plight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">His face upturned to hers, his lips</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Kept talking on, but gave no sound;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His feet were cloven to the ground;</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Like iron hooks his finger-tips.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“Ay, twenty years,†she sadly sighed:</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">“I promised mother every year</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">That I would pray for father here,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As she had prayed, the night she died:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p131" id="p131" title="131"></a> <span class="line i0">“To pray as she prayed, fervidly;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As she had promised she would pray</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">The sad night of her marriage day,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">For him, wherever he might be.â€</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">Then she was still; then sudden she</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Let fall her eyes, and so outspake</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As if her very heart would break,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">Her proud lips trembling piteously:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">“And whether he come soon or late</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">To kneel beside this nameless grave,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">May God forgive my father’s hate</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">As I forgive, as she forgave!â€</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He saw the stone; he understood</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">With that quick knowledge that will come</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Most quick when men are made most dumb</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With terror that stops still the blood.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And then a blindness slowly fell</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">On soul and body; but his hands</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Held tight his bags, two iron bands,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if to bear them into hell.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><a class="pagebreak" name="p132" id="p132" title="132"></a> <span class="line i0">He sank upon the nameless stone</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">With oh such sad, such piteous moan</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As never man might seek to know</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">From man’s most unforgiving foe.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">He sighed at last, so long, so deep,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As one heart breaking in one’s <span class="kit">sleep,—</span></span><br /> +<span class="line i0">One long, last, weary, willing sigh,</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">As if it were a grace to die.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"><span class="line i0">And then his hands, like loosened bands,</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">Hung down, hung down on either side;</span><br /> +<span class="legacy-indent">  </span><span class="line i1">His hands hung down and opened wide:</span><br /> +<span class="line i0">He rested in the orange lands.</span></p> + +<p class="printer">University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.</p> + +<div class="notes"><p><strong>Transcriber’s Note.</strong> + +The following emendations have been made to the text:</p> + +<ul><li><a href="#emendation-1">“You will not touch it? In God’s name</a> +<em>for</em><br /> +‘You will not touch it? In God’s name</li> + +<li><a href="#emendation-2">“That night of rainbow-shot and shell</a> +<em>for</em><br /> +That night of rainbow-shot and shell</li> + +<li><a href="#emendation-3">“That night amid the maimed and <span class="kit">dead,—</span></a> +<em>for</em><br /> +That night amid the maimed and <span class="kit">dead,—</span></li></ul></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Songs of the Mexican Seas, by Joaquin Miller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS *** + +***** This file should be named 38766-h.htm or 38766-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/7/6/38766/ + +Produced by Daniel Emerson Griffith and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Songs of the Mexican Seas + +Author: Joaquin Miller + +Release Date: February 4, 2012 [EBook #38766] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS *** + + + + +Produced by Daniel Emerson Griffith and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS + + BY JOAQUIN MILLER + AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF THE SIERRAS," "SONGS OF ITALY," ETC. + + + BOSTON + ROBERTS BROTHERS + 1887 + + + Copyright, 1887, + By Roberts Brothers. + + UNIVERSITY PRESS: + John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. + + +TO ABBIE. + + +NOTE.--The lines in this little book, as in all my others, were +written, or at least conceived, in the lands where the scenes are +laid; so that whatever may be said of the imperfections of my work, +I at least have the correct atmosphere and color. I have now and +then sent forth from Mexico, and from remoter shores of the Gulf, +fragments of these thoughts as they rounded into form, and some +of them have been used at a Dartmouth College Commencement, and +elsewhere; but as a whole the book is new. + +From the heart of the Sierra, where I once more hear the awful +heart-throbs of Nature, I now intrust the first reception of these +lessons entirely to my own country. And may I not ask in return, +now at the last, when the shadows begin to grow long, something +of that consideration which, thus far, has been accorded almost +entirely by strangers? + + Joaquin Miller. + + Mount Shasta, California, + A.D. 1887. + + + + +SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS. + + + + +THE SEA OF FIRE. + + + In that far land, farther than Yucatan, + Hondurian height, or Mahogany steep, + Where the great sea, hollowed by the hand of man + Hears deep come calling across to deep; + Where the great seas follow in the grooves of men + Down under the bastions of Darien: + + In that land so far that you wonder whether + If God would know it should you fall down dead; + In that land so far through the wilds and weather + That the lost sun sinks like a warrior sped,-- + Where the sea and the sky seem closing together, + Seem closing together as a book that is read: + + In that nude warm world, where the unnamed rivers + Roll restless in cradles of bright buried gold; + Where white flashing mountains flow rivers of silver + As a rock of the desert flowed fountains of old; + By a dark wooded river that calls to the dawn, + And calls all day with his dolorous swan: + + In that land of the wonderful sun and weather, + With green under foot and with gold over head, + Where the spent sun flames, and you wonder whether + 'Tis an isle of fire in his foamy bed: + Where the oceans of earth shall be welded together + By the great French master in his forge flame red,-- + + Lo! the half-finished world! Yon footfall retreating,-- + It might be the Maker disturbed at his task. + But the footfall of God, or the far pheasant beating, + It is one and the same, whatever the mask + It may wear unto man. The woods keep repeating + The old sacred sermons, whatever you ask. + + The brown-muzzled cattle come stealthy to drink, + The wild forest cattle, with high horns as trim + As the elk at their side: their sleek necks are slim + And alert like the deer. They come, then they shrink + As afraid of their fellows, of shadow-beasts seen + In the deeps of the dark-wooded waters of green. + + It is man in his garden, scarce wakened as yet + From the sleep that fell on him when woman was made. + The new-finished garden is plastic and wet + From the hand that has fashioned its unpeopled shade; + And the wonder still looks from the fair woman's eyes + As she shines through the wood like the light from the skies. + + And a ship now and then from some far Ophir's shore + Draws in from the sea. It lies close to the bank; + Then a dull, muffled sound of the slow-shuffled plank + As they load the black ship; but you hear nothing more, + And the dark dewy vines, and the tall sombre wood + Like twilight droop over the deep sweeping flood. + + The black masts are tangled with branches that cross, + The rich, fragrant gums fall from branches to deck, + The thin ropes are swinging with streamers of moss + That mantle all things like the shreds of a wreck; + The long mosses swing, there is never a breath: + The river rolls still as the river of death. + + +I. + + In the beginning,--ay, before + The six-days' labors were well o'er; + Yea, while the world lay incomplete, + Ere God had opened quite the door + Of this strange land for strong men's feet,-- + There lay against that westmost sea + One weird-wild land of mystery. + + A far white wall, like fallen moon, + Girt out the world. The forest lay + So deep you scarcely saw the day, + Save in the high-held middle noon: + It lay a land of sleep and dreams, + And clouds drew through like shoreless streams + That stretch to where no man may say. + + Men reached it only from the sea, + By black-built ships, that seemed to creep + Along the shore suspiciously, + Like unnamed monsters of the deep. + It was the weirdest land, I ween, + That mortal eye has ever seen: + + A dim, dark land of bird and beast, + Black shaggy beasts with cloven claw,-- + A land that scarce knew prayer or priest, + Or law of man, or Nature's law; + Where no fixed line drew sharp dispute + 'Twixt savage man and silent brute. + + +II. + + It hath a history most fit + For cunning hand to fashion on; + No chronicler hath mentioned it; + No buccaneer set foot upon. + 'Tis of an outlawed Spanish Don,-- + A cruel man, with pirate's gold + That loaded down his deep ship's hold. + + A deep ship's hold of plundered gold! + The golden cruise, the golden cross, + From many a church of Mexico, + From Panama's mad overthrow, + From many a ransomed city's loss, + From many a follower stanch and bold, + And many a foeman stark and cold. + + He found this wild, lost land. He drew + His ship to shore. His ruthless crew, + Like Romulus, laid lawless hand + On meek brown maidens of the land, + And in their bloody forays bore + Red firebrands along the shore. + + +III. + + The red men rose at night. They came, + A firm, unflinching wall of flame; + They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea + O'er land of sand and level shore + That howls in far, fierce agony. + The red men swept that deep, dark shore + As threshers sweep a threshing-floor. + + And yet beside the slain Don's door + They left his daughter, as they fled: + They spared her life, because she bore + Their Chieftain's blood and name. The red + And blood-stained hidden hoards of gold + They hollowed from the stout ship's hold, + And bore in many a slim canoe-- + To where? The good priest only knew. + + +IV. + + The course of life is like the sea: + Men come and go; tides rise and fall; + And that is all of history. + The tide flows in, flows out to-day,-- + And that is all that man may say; + Man is, man was,--and that is all. + + Revenge at last came like a tide,-- + 'Twas sweeping, deep, and terrible; + The Christian found the land, and came + To take possession in Christ's name. + For every white man that had died + I think a thousand red men fell,-- + A Christian custom; and the land + Lay lifeless as some burned-out brand. + + +V. + + Ere while the slain Don's daughter grew + A glorious thing, a flower of spring, + A lithe slim reed, a sun-loved weed, + A something more than mortal knew; + A mystery of grace and face,-- + A silent mystery that stood + An empress in that sea-set wood, + Supreme, imperial in her place. + + It might have been men's lust for gold,-- + For all men knew that lawless crew + Left hoards of gold in that ship's hold, + That drew ships hence, and silent drew + Strange Jasons to that steep wood shore, + As if to seek that hidden store,-- + I never either cared or knew. + + I say it might have been this gold + That ever drew and strangely drew + Strong men of land, strange men of sea, + To seek this shore of mystery + With all its wondrous tales untold: + The gold or her, which of the two? + It matters not; I never knew. + + But this I know, that as for me, + Between that face and the hard fate + That kept me ever from my own, + As some wronged monarch from his throne, + God's heaped-up gold of land or sea + Had never weighed one feather's weight. + + Her home was on the wooded height,-- + A woody home, a priest at prayer, + A perfume in the fervid air, + And angels watching her at night. + I can but think upon the skies + That bound that other Paradise. + + +VI. + + Below a star-built arch, as grand + As ever bended heaven spanned; + Tall trees like mighty columns grew-- + They loomed as if to pierce the blue, + They reached as reaching heaven through. + + The shadowed stream rolled far below, + Where men moved noiseless to and fro + As in some vast cathedral, when + The calm of prayer comes to men, + With benedictions, bending low. + + Lo! wooded sea-banks, wild and steep! + A trackless wood; a snowy cone + That lifted from this wood alone! + This wild wide river, dark and deep! + A ship against the shore asleep! + + +VII. + + An Indian woman crept, a crone, + Hard by about the land alone, + The relic of her perished race. + She wore rich, rudely-fashioned bands + Of gold above her bony hands: + She hissed hot curses on the place! + + +VIII. + + Go seek the red man's last retreat! + A lonesome land, the haunted lands! + Red mouths of beasts, red men's red hands: + Red prophet-priest, in mute defeat! + + His boundaries in blood are writ! + His land is ghostland! That is his, + Whatever man may claim of this; + Beware how you shall enter it! + He stands God's guardian of ghostlands; + Ay, this same wrapped half-prophet stands + All nude and voiceless, nearer to + The awful God than I or you. + + +IX. + + This bronzed child, by that river's brink, + Stood fair to see as you can think, + As tall as tall reeds at her feet, + As fresh as flowers in her hair; + As sweet as flowers over-sweet, + As fair as vision more than fair! + + How beautiful she was! How wild! + How pure as water-plant, this child,-- + This one wild child of Nature here + Grown tall in shadows. + And how near + To God, where no man stood between + Her eyes and scenes no man hath seen,-- + This maiden that so mutely stood, + The one lone woman of that wood. + + Stop still, my friend, and do not stir, + Shut close your page and think of her. + The birds sang sweeter for her face; + Her lifted eyes were like a grace + To seamen of that solitude, + However rough, however rude. + + The rippled rivers of her hair, + That ran in wondrous waves, somehow + Flowed down divided by her brow,-- + Half mantled her within its care, + And flooded all, or bronze or snow, + In its uncommon fold and flow. + + A perfume and an incense lay + Before her, as an incense sweet + Before blithe mowers of sweet May + In early morn. Her certain feet + Embarked on no uncertain way. + + Come, think how perfect before men, + How sweet as sweet magnolia bloom + Embalmed in dews of morning, when + Rich sunlight leaps from midnight gloom + Resolved to kiss, and swift to kiss + Ere yet morn wakens man to bliss. + + +X. + + The days swept on. Her perfect year + Was with her now. The sweet perfume + Of womanhood in holy bloom, + As when red harvest blooms appear, + Possessed her now. The priest did pray + That saints alone should pass that way. + + A red bird built beneath her roof, + Brown squirrels crossed her cabin sill, + And welcome came or went at will. + A hermit spider wove his web, + And up against the roof would spin + His net to catch mosquitoes in. + + The silly elk, the spotted fawn, + And all dumb beasts that came to drink, + That stealthy stole upon the brink + In that dim while that lies between + The coming night and going dawn, + On seeing her familiar face + Would fearless stop and stand in place. + + She was so kind, the beasts of night + Gave her the road as if her right; + The panther crouching overhead + In sheen of moss would hear her tread + And bend his eyes, but never stir + Lest he by chance might frighten her. + + Yet in her splendid strength, her eyes, + There lay the lightning of the skies; + The love-hate of the lioness, + To kill the instant, or caress: + A pent-up soul that sometimes grew + Impatient; why, she hardly knew. + + At last she sighed, uprose, and threw + Her strong arms out as if to hand + Her love, sun-born and all complete + At birth, to some brave lover's feet + On some far, fair, and unseen land, + As knowing now not what to do! + + +XI. + + How beautiful she was! Why, she + Was inspiration! She was born + To walk God's summer hills at morn, + Nor waste her by this wood-dark sea. + What wonder, then, her soul's white wings + Beat at its bars, like living things! + + Once more she sighed! She wandered through + The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew + Her hand above her face, and swept + The lonesome sea, and all day kept + Her face to sea, as if she knew + Some day, some near or distant day, + Her destiny should come that way. + + +XII. + + How proud she was! How darkly fair! + How full of faith, of love, of strength! + Her calm, proud eyes! Her great hair's length,-- + Her long, strong, tumbled, careless hair, + Half curled and knotted anywhere, + From brow to breast, from cheek to chin, + For love to trip and tangle in! + + +XIII. + + At last a tall strange sail was seen: + It came so slow, so wearily, + Came creeping cautious up the sea, + As if it crept from out between + The half-closed sea and sky that lay + Tight wedged together, far away. + + She watched it, wooed it. She did pray + It might not pass her by, but bring + Some love, some hate, some anything, + To break the awful loneliness + That like a nightly nightmare lay + Upon her proud and pent-up soul + Until it barely brooked control. + + +XIV. + + The ship crept silent up the sea, + And came-- + You cannot understand + How fair she was, how sudden she + Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood: + How gracious, yet how proud and grand; + How glorified, yet fresh and free, + How human, yet how more than good. + + +XV. + + The ship stole slowly, slowly on;-- + Should you in Californian field + In ample flower-time behold + The soft south rose lift like a shield + Against the sudden sun at dawn, + A double handful of heaped gold, + Why you, perhaps, might understand + How splendid and how queenly she + Uprose beside that wood-set sea. + + The storm-worn ship scarce seemed to creep + From wave to wave. It scarce could keep-- + How still this fair girl stood, how fair! + How proud her presence as she stood + Between that vast sea and west wood! + How large and liberal her soul, + How confident, how purely chare, + How trusting; how untried the whole + Great heart, grand faith, that blossomed there! + + +XVI. + + Ay, she was as Madonna to + The tawny, lawless, faithful few + Who touched her hand and knew her soul: + She drew them, drew them as the pole + Points all things to itself. + She drew + Men upward as a moon of spring, + High wheeling, vast and bosom-full, + Half clad in clouds and white as wool, + Draws all the strong seas following. + + Yet still she moved as sad, as lone + As that same moon that leans above, + And seems to search high heaven through + For some strong, all-sufficient love, + For one brave love to be her own, + To lean upon, to love, to woo, + To lord her high white world, to yield + His clashing sword against her shield. + + Oh, I once knew a sad, white dove + That died for such sufficient love, + Such high-born soul with wings to soar: + That stood up equal in its place, + That looked love level in the face, + Nor wearied love with leaning o'er + To lift love level where she trod + In sad delight the hills of God. + + +XVII. + + How slow before the sleeping breeze, + That stranger ship from under seas! + How like to Dido by her sea, + When reaching arms imploringly,-- + Her large, round, rich, impassioned arms, + Tossed forth from all her storied charms,-- + This one lone maiden leaning stood + Above that sea, beside the wood! + + The ship crept strangely up the seas; + Her shrouds seemed shreds, her masts seemed trees,-- + Strange tattered trees of toughest bough + That knew no cease of storm till now. + The maiden pitied her; she prayed + Her crew might come, nor feel afraid; + She prayed the winds might come,--they came, + As birds that answer to a name. + + The maiden held her blowing hair + That bound her beauteous self about; + The sea-winds housed within her hair: + She let it go, it blew in rout + About her bosom full and bare. + Her round, full arms were free as air, + Her high hands clasped, as clasped in prayer. + + +XVIII. + + The breeze grew bold, the battered ship + Began to flap her weary wings; + The tall, torn masts began to dip + And walk the wave like living things. + She rounded in, she struck the stream, + She moved like some majestic dream. + + The captain kept her deck. He stood + A Hercules among his men; + And now he watched the sea, and then + He peered as if to pierce the wood. + He now looked back, as if pursued, + Now swept the sea with glass, as though + He fled or feared some hidden foe. + + Swift sailing up the river's mouth, + Swift tacking north, swift tacking south, + He touched the overhanging wood; + He tacked his ship; his tall black mast + Touched tree-top mosses as he passed; + He touched the steep shore where she stood. + + +XIX. + + Her hands still clasped as if in prayer, + Sweet prayer set to silentness; + Her sun-browned throat uplifted, bare + And beautiful. + Her eager face + Illumed with love and tenderness, + And all her presence gave such grace, + Dark shadowed in her cloud of hair, + That she seemed more than mortal fair. + + +XX. + + He saw. He could not speak. No more + With lifted glass he sought the sea; + No more he watched the wild new shore. + Now foes might come, now friends might flee; + He could not speak, he would not stir,-- + He saw but her, he feared but her. + + The black ship ground against the shore, + She ground against the bank as one + With long and weary journeys done, + That would not rise to journey more. + + Yet still this Jason silent stood + And gazed against that sun-lit wood, + As one whose soul is anywhere. + + All seemed so fair, so wondrous fair! + At last aroused, he stepped to land + Like some Columbus. They laid hand + On lands and fruits, and rested there. + + +XXI. + + He found all fairer than fair morn + In sylvan land, where waters run + With downward leap against the sun, + And full-grown sudden May is born. + He found her taller than tall corn + Tiptoe in tassel; found her sweet + As vale where bees of Hybla meet. + + An unblown rose, an unread book; + A wonder in her wondrous eyes; + A large, religious, steadfast look + Of faith, of trust,--the look of one + New welcomed in her Paradise. + + He read this book,--read on and on + From titlepage to colophon: + As in cool woods, some summer day, + You find delight in some sweet lay, + And so entranced read on and on + From titlepage to colophon. + + +XXII. + + And who was he that rested there,-- + This Hercules, so huge, so rare, + This giant of a grander day, + This Theseus of a nobler Greece, + This Jason of the golden fleece? + And who was he? And who were they + That came to seek the hidden gold + Long hallowed from the pirate's hold? + I do not know. You need not care. + + . . . . . . + + They loved, this maiden and this man, + And that is all I surely know,-- + The rest is as the winds that blow. + He bowed as brave men bow to fate, + Yet proud and resolute and bold; + She, coy at first, and mute and cold, + Held back and seemed to hesitate,-- + Half frightened at this love that ran + Hard gallop till her hot heart beat + Like sounding of swift courser's feet. + + +XXIII. + + Two strong streams of a land must run + Together surely as the sun + Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay + The fates that reign, that wisely reign? + Love is, love was, shall be again. + Like death, inevitable it is; + Perchance, like death, the dawn of bliss. + Let us, then, love the perfect day, + The twelve o'clock of life, and stop + The two hands pointing to the top, + And hold them tightly while we may. + + +XXIV. + + How piteous strange is love! The walks + By wooded ways; the silent talks + Beneath the broad and fragrant bough. + The dark deep wood, the dense black dell, + Where scarce a single gold beam fell + From out the sun. + They rested now + On mossy trunk. They wandered then + Where never fell the feet of men. + + Then longer walks, then deeper woods, + Then sweeter talks, sufficient sweet, + In denser, deeper solitudes,-- + Dear careless ways for careless feet; + Sweet talks of paradise for two, + And only two, to watch or woo. + + She rarely spake. All seemed a dream + She would not waken from. She lay + All night but waiting for the day, + When she might see his face, and deem + This man, with all his perils passed, + Had found the Lotus-land at last. + + +XXV. + + The year waxed fervid, and the sun + Fell central down. The forest lay + A-quiver in the heat. The sea + Below the steep bank seemed to run + A molten sea of gold. + Away + Against the gray and rock-built isles + That broke the molten watery miles + Where lonesome sea-cows called all day, + The sudden sun smote angrily. + + Therefore the need of deeper deeps, + Of denser shade for man and maid, + Of higher heights, of cooler steeps, + Where all day long the sea-wind stayed. + + They sought the rock-reared steep. The breeze + Swept twenty thousand miles of seas; + Had twenty thousand things to say + Of love, of lovers of Cathay, + To lovers 'mid these high-held trees. + + +XXVI. + + To left, to right, below the height, + Below the wood by wave and stream, + Plumed pampas grasses grew to gleam + And bend their lordly plumes, and run + And shake, as if in very fright + Before sharp lances of the sun. + + They saw the tide-bound battered ship + Creep close below against the bank; + They saw it cringe and shrink; it shrank + As shrinks some huge black beast with fear + When some uncommon dread is near. + They heard the melting resin drip, + As drip the last brave blood-drops when + Life's battle waxes hot with men. + + +XXVII. + + Yet what to her were burning seas, + Or what to him was forest flame? + They loved; they loved the glorious trees, + The gleaming tides, or rise or fall; + They loved the lisping winds that came + From sea-lost spice-set isles unknown, + With breath not warmer than their own: + They loved, they loved,--and that was all. + + +XXVIII. + + Full noon! Below the ancient moss + With mighty boughs high clanged across, + The man with sweet words, over-sweet, + Fell pleading, plaintive, at her feet. + + He spake of love, of boundless love,-- + Of love that knew no other land, + Or face, or place, or anything; + Of love that like the wearied dove + Could light nowhere, but kept the wing + Till she alone put forth her hand, + And so received it in her ark + From seas that shake against the dark! + + He clasped her hands, climbed past her knees, + Forgot her hands and kissed her hair,-- + The while her two hands clasped in prayer, + And fair face lifted to the trees. + + Her proud breast heaved, her pure proud breast + Rose like the waves in their unrest + When counter storms possess the seas. + Her mouth, her arched, uplifted mouth, + Her ardent mouth that thirsted so,-- + No glowing love-song of the South + Can say; no man can say or know + The glory there, and so live on + Content without that glory gone! + + Her face still lifted up. And she + Disdained the cup of passion he + Hard pressed her panting lips to touch. + She dashed it by despised, and she + Caught fast her breath. She trembled much, + And sudden rose full height, and stood + An empress in high womanhood: + She stood a tower, tall as when + Proud Roman mothers suckled men + Of old-time truth and taught them such. + + +XXIX. + + Her soul surged vast as space is. She + Was trembling as a courser when + His thin flank quivers, and his feet + Touch velvet on the turf, and he + Is all afoam, alert, and fleet + As sunlight glancing on the sea, + And full of triumph before men. + + At last she bended some her face, + Half leaned, then put him back a pace, + And met his eyes. + Calm, silently + Her eyes looked deep into his eyes,-- + As maidens down some mossy well + Do peer in hope by chance to tell + By image there what future lies + Before them, and what face shall be + The pole-star of their destiny. + + Pure Nature's lover! Loving him + With love that made all pathways dim + And difficult where he was not,-- + Then marvel not at form forgot. + And who shall chide? Doth priest know aught + Of sign, or holy unction brought + From over seas, that ever can + Make man love maid or maid love man + One whit the more, one bit the less, + For all his mummeries to bless? + Yea, all his blessing or his ban? + + The winds breathed warm as Araby: + She leaned upon his breast, she lay + A wide-winged swan with folded wing. + He drowned his hot face in her hair, + He heard her great heart rise and sing; + He felt her bosom swell. + The air + Swooned sweet with perfume of her form. + Her breast was warm, her breath was warm, + And warm her warm and perfumed mouth + As summer journeys through the South. + + +XXX. + + The argent sea surged steep below, + Surged languid in a tropic glow; + And two great hearts kept surging so! + + The fervid kiss of heaven lay + Precipitate on wood and sea. + Two great souls glowed with ecstasy, + The sea glowed scarce as warm as they. + + +XXXI. + + 'Twas love's low amber afternoon. + Two far-off pheasants thrummed a tune, + A cricket clanged a restful air. + The dreamful billows beat a rune + Like heart regrets. + Around her head + There shone a halo. Men have said + 'Twas from a dash of Titian + That flooded all her storm of hair + In gold and glory. But they knew, + Yea, all men know there ever grew + A halo round about her head + Like sunlight scarcely vanished. + + +XXXII. + + How still she was! She only knew + His love. She saw no life beyond. + She loved with love that only lives + Outside itself and selfishness,-- + A love that glows in its excess; + A love that melts pure gold, and gives + Thenceforth to all who come to woo + No coins but this face stamped thereon,-- + Ay, this one image stamped upon + Its face, with some dim date long gone. + + +XXXIII. + + They kept the headland high; the ship + Below began to chafe her chain, + To groan as some great beast in pain; + While white fear leapt from lip to lip: + "The woods are fire! the woods are flame! + Come down and save us, in God's name!" + + He heard! he did not speak or stir,-- + He thought of her, of only her. + While flames behind, before them lay + To hold the stoutest heart at bay! + + Strange sounds were heard far up the flood,-- + Strange, savage sounds that chilled the blood! + Then sudden from the dense dark wood + Above, about them where they stood + A thousand beasts came peering out; + And now was thrust a long black snout, + And now a tusky mouth. It was + A sight to make the stoutest pause. + + "Cut loose the ship!" the black mate cried; + "Cut loose the ship!" the crew replied. + They drove into the sea. It lay + As light as ever middle day. + + The while their half-blind bitch, that sat + All slobber-mouthed, and monkish cowled + With great, broad, floppy, leathern ears, + Amid the men, rose up and howled, + And doleful howled her plaintive fears, + While all looked mute aghast thereat. + It was the grimmest eve, I think, + That ever hung on Hades' brink. + + Great broad-winged bats possessed the air, + Bats whirling blindly everywhere; + It was such troubled twilight eve + As never mortal would believe. + + +XXXIV. + + Some say the crazed hag lit the wood + In circle where the lovers stood; + Some say the gray priest feared the crew + Might find at last the hoard of gold + Long hidden from the black ship's hold,-- + I doubt me if men ever knew. + But such mad, howling, flame-lit shore + No mortal ever saw before. + + Huge beasts above that shining sea, + Wild, hideous beasts with shaggy hair, + With red mouths lifting in the air, + They piteous howled, and plaintively,-- + The wildest sounds, the weirdest sight + That ever shook the walls of night. + + How lorn they howled, with lifted head, + To dim and distant isles that lay + Wedged tight along a line of red, + Caught in the closing gates of day + 'Twixt sky and sea and far away,-- + It was the saddest sound to hear + That ever struck on human ear. + + They doleful called; and answered they + The plaintive sea-cows far away,-- + The great sea-cows that called from isles, + Away across wide watery miles, + With dripping mouths and lolling tongue, + As if they called for captured young,-- + + The huge sea-cows that called the whiles + Their great wide mouths were mouthing moss; + And still they doleful called across + From isles beyond the watery miles. + No sound can half so doleful be + As sea-cows calling from the sea. + + +XXXV. + + The drowned sun sank and died. He lay + In seas of blood. He sinking drew + The gates of sunset sudden to, + Where shattered day in fragments lay, + And night came, moving in mad flame: + The night came, lighted as he came, + As lighted by high summer sun + Descending through the burning blue. + It was a gold and amber hue, + And all hues blended into one. + The night spilled splendor where she came, + And filled the yellow world with flame. + + The moon came on, came leaning low + Along the far sea-isles aglow; + She fell along that amber flood + A silver flame in seas of blood. + It was the strangest moon, ah me! + That ever settled on God's sea. + + +XXXVI. + + Slim snakes slid down from fern and grass, + From wood, from fen, from anywhere; + You could not step, you would not pass, + And you would hesitate to stir, + Lest in some sudden, hurried tread + Your foot struck some unbruised head: + + They slid in streams into the stream,-- + It seemed like some infernal dream; + They curved, and graceful curved across, + Like graceful, waving sea-green moss,-- + There is no art of man can make + A ripple like a rippling snake! + + +XXXVII. + + Abandoned, lorn, the lovers stood, + Abandoned there, death in the air! + That beetling steep, that blazing wood,-- + Red flame! and red flame everywhere! + Yet was he born to strive, to bear + The front of battle. He would die + In noble effort, and defy + The grizzled visage of despair. + + He threw his two strong arms full length + As if to surely test their strength; + Then tore his vestments, textile things + That could but tempt the demon wings + Of flame that girt them round about, + Then threw his garments to the air + As one that laughed at death, at doubt, + And like a god stood grand and bare. + + She did not hesitate; she knew + The need of action; swift she threw + Her burning vestments by, and bound + Her wondrous wealth of hair that fell + An all-concealing cloud around + Her glorious presence, as he came + To seize and bear her through the flame,-- + An Orpheus out of burning hell! + + He leaned above her, wound his arm + About her splendor, while the noon + Of flood-tide, manhood, flushed his face, + And high flames leapt the high headland!-- + They stood as twin-hewn statues stand, + High lifted in some storied place. + + He clasped her close, he spoke of death,-- + Of death and love in the same breath. + He clasped her close; her bosom lay + Like ship safe anchored in some bay. + + +XXXVIII. + + The flames! They could not stand or stay; + Before the beetling steep, the sea! + But at his feet a narrow way, + A short steep path, pitched suddenly + Safe open to the river's beach, + Where lay a small white isle in reach,-- + A small, white, rippled isle of sand + Where yet the two might safely land. + + And there, through smoke and flame, behold + The priest stood safe, yet all appalled! + He reached the cross; he cried, he called; + He waved his high-held cross of gold. + He called and called, he bade them fly + Through flames to him, nor bide and die! + + Her lover saw; he saw, and knew + His giant strength would bear her through. + And yet he would not start or stir. + He clasped her close as death can hold, + Or dying miser clasp his gold,-- + His hold became a part of her. + + He would not give her up! He would + Not bear her waveward though he could! + That height was heaven; the wave was hell. + He clasped her close,--what else had done + The manliest man beneath the sun? + Was it not well? was it not well? + + O man, be glad! be grandly glad, + And kinglike walk thy ways of death! + For more than years of bliss you had + That one brief time you breathed her breath. + Yea, more than years upon a throne + That one brief time you held her fast, + Soul surged to soul, vehement, vast,-- + True breast to breast, and all your own. + + Live me one day, one narrow night, + One second of supreme delight + Like that, and I will blow like chaff + The hollow years aside, and laugh + A loud triumphant laugh, and I, + King-like and crowned, will gladly die. + + Oh, but to wrap my love with flame! + With flame within, with flame without! + Oh, but to die like this, nor doubt-- + To die and know her still the same! + To know that down the ghostly shore + Snow-white she waits me evermore! + + +XXXIX. + + He poised her, held her high in air,-- + His great strong limbs, his great arm's length!-- + Then turned his knotted shoulders bare + As birth-time in his splendid strength, + And strode, strode with a lordly stride + To where the high and wood-hung edge + Looked down, far down upon the molten tide. + The flames leapt with him to the ledge, + The flames leapt leering at his side. + + +XL. + + He leaned above the ledge. Below + He saw the black ship idly cruise,-- + A midge below, a mile below. + His limbs were knotted as the thews + Of Hercules in his death-throe. + + The flame! the flame! the envious flame! + She wound her arms, she wound her hair + About his tall form, grand and bare, + To stay the fierce flame where it came. + + The black ship, like some moonlit wreck, + Below along the burning sea + Crept on and on all silently, + With silent pygmies on her deck. + + That midge-like ship far, far below; + That mirage lifting from the hill! + His flame-lit form began to grow,-- + To grow and grow more grandly still. + The ship so small, that form so tall, + It grew to tower over all. + + A tall Colossus, bronze and gold, + As if that flame-lit form were he + Who once bestrode the Rhodian sea, + And ruled the watery world of old: + As if the lost Colossus stood + Above that burning sea of wood. + + And she, that shapely form upheld, + Held high, as if to touch the sky, + What airy shape, how shapely high,-- + A goddess of the seas of eld! + + Her hand upheld, her high right hand, + As if she would forget the land; + As if to gather stars, and heap + The stars like torches there to light + Her Hero's path across the deep + To some far isle that fearful night. + + It was as if Colossus came, + Came proudly reaching from the flame + Above the sea in sheen of gold, + His sea-bride leaping from his hold; + The lost Colossus, and his bride + In bronze perfection at his side: + As if the lost Colossus came + Companioned from the past, his bride + With torch all faithful at his side: + + With star-tipped torch that reached and rolled + Through cloud-built corridors of gold: + His bride, austere and stern and grand,-- + Bartholdi's goddess by the sea, + Far lifting, lighting Liberty + From prison seas to Freedom's land. + + +XLI. + + The flame! the envious flame, it leapt + Enraged to see such majesty, + Such scorn of death; such kingly scorn. + Then like some lightning-riven tree + They sank down in that flame--and slept + And all was hushed above that steep + So still, that they might sleep and sleep; + As still as when a day is born. + + At last! from out the embers leapt + Two shafts of light above the night,-- + Two wings of flame that lifting swept + In steady, calm, and upward flight; + Two wings of flame against the white + Far-lifting, tranquil, snowy cone; + Two wings of love, two wings of light, + Far, far above that troubled night, + As mounting, mounting to God's throne. + + +XLII. + + And all night long that upward light + Lit up the sea-cow's bed below: + The far sea-cows still calling so + It seemed as they must call all night. + All night! there was no night. Nay, nay, + There was no night. The night that lay + Between that awful eve and day,-- + That nameless night was burned away. + + + + +THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. + +PART I. + + + Rhyme on, rhyme on in reedy flow, + O river, rhymer ever sweet! + The story of thy land is meet, + The stars stand listening to know. + + Rhyme on, O river of the earth! + Gray father of the dreadful seas, + Rhyme on! the world upon its knees + Shall yet invoke thy wealth and worth. + + Rhyme on, the reed is at thy mouth, + O kingly minstrel, mighty stream! + Thy Crescent City, like a dream, + Hangs in the heaven of my South. + + Rhyme on, rhyme on! these broken strings + Sing sweetest in this warm south wind; + I sit thy willow banks and bind + A broken harp that fitful sings. + + +I. + + And where is my city, sweet blossom-sown town? + And what is her glory, and what has she done? + By the Mexican seas in the path of the sun + Sit you down: in the crescent of seas sit you down. + + Ay, glory enough by my Mexican seas! + Ay, story enough in that battle-torn town, + Hidden down in the crescent of seas, hidden down + 'Mid mantle and sheen of magnolia-strown trees. + + But mine is the story of souls; of a soul + That bartered God's limitless kingdom for gold,-- + Sold stars and all space for a thing he could hold + In his palm for a day, ere he hid with the mole. + + O father of waters! O river so vast! + So deep, so strong, and so wondrous wild,-- + He embraces the land as he rushes past, + Like a savage father embracing his child. + + His sea-land is true and so valiantly true, + His leaf-land is fair and so marvellous fair, + His palm-land is filled with a perfumed air + Of magnolia blooms to its dome of blue. + + His rose-land has arbors of moss-swept oak,-- + Gray, Druid old oaks; and the moss that sways + And swings in the wind is the battle-smoke + Of duellists, dead in her storied days. + + His love-land has churches and bells and chimes; + His love-land has altars and orange flowers; + And that is the reason for all these rhymes,-- + These bells, they are ringing through all the hours! + + His sun-land has churches, and priests at prayer, + White nuns, as white as the far north snow; + They go where danger may bid them go,-- + They dare when the angel of death is there. + + His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair, + In the Creole quarter, with great black eyes,-- + So fair that the Mayor must keep them there + Lest troubles, like troubles of Troy, arise. + + His love-land has ladies, with eyes held down,-- + Held down, because if they lifted them, + Why, you would be lost in that old French town, + Though you held even to God's garment hem. + + His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair, + That they bend their eyes to the holy book + Lest you should forget yourself, your prayer, + And never more cease to look and to look. + + And these are the ladies that no men see, + And this is the reason men see them not. + Better their modest sweet mystery,-- + Better by far than the battle-shot. + + And so, in this curious old town of tiles, + The proud French quarter of days long gone, + In castles of Spain and tumble-down piles + These wonderful ladies live on and on. + + I sit in the church where they come and go; + I dream of glory that has long since gone, + Of the low raised high, of the high brought low, + As in battle-torn days of Napoleon. + + These piteous places, so rich, so poor! + One quaint old church at the edge of the town + Has white tombs laid to the very church door,-- + White leaves in the story of life turned down. + + White leaves in the story of life are these, + The low white slabs in the long strong grass, + Where Glory has emptied her hour-glass + And dreams with the dreamers beneath the trees. + + I dream with the dreamers beneath the sod, + Where souls pass by to the great white throne; + I count each tomb as a mute milestone + For weary, sweet souls on their way to God. + + I sit all day by the vast, strong stream, + 'Mid low white slabs in the long strong grass + Where Time has forgotten for aye to pass, + To dream, and ever to dream and to dream. + + This quaint old church with its dead to the door, + By the cypress swamp at the edge of the town, + So restful seems that you want to sit down + And rest you, and rest you for evermore. + + And one white tomb is a lowliest tomb, + That has crept up close to the crumbling door,-- + Some penitent soul, as imploring room + Close under the cross that is leaning o'er. + + 'Tis a low white slab, and 'tis nameless, too-- + Her untold story, why, who should know? + Yet God, I reckon, can read right through + That nameless stone to the bosom below. + + And the roses know, and they pity her, too; + They bend their heads in the sun or rain, + And they read, and they read, and then read again, + As children reading strange pictures through. + + Why, surely her sleep it should be profound; + For oh the apples of gold above! + And oh the blossoms of bridal love! + And oh the roses that gather around! + + The sleep of a night, or a thousand morns? + Why what is the difference here, to-day? + Sleeping and sleeping the years away + With all earth's roses, and none of its thorns. + + Magnolias white and the roses red-- + The palm-tree here and the cypress there: + Sit down by the palm at the feet of the dead, + And hear a penitent's midnight prayer. + + +II. + + The old churchyard is still as death, + A stranger passes to and fro + As if to church--he does not go-- + The dead night does not draw a breath. + + A lone sweet lady prays within. + The stranger passes by the door-- + Will he not pray? Is he so poor + He has no prayer for his sin? + + Is he so poor! His two strong hands + Are full and heavy, as with gold; + They clasp, as clasp two iron bands + About two bags with eager hold. + + Will he not pause and enter in, + Put down his heavy load and rest, + Put off his garmenting of sin, + As some black burden from his breast? + + Ah, me! the brave alone can pray. + The church-door is as cannon's mouth + To sinner North, or sinner South, + More dreaded than dread battle day. + + Now two men pace. They pace apart, + And one with youth and truth is fair; + The fervid sun is in his heart, + The tawny South is in his hair. + + Ay, two men pace, pace left and right-- + The lone, sweet lady prays within-- + Ay, two men pace: the silent night + Kneels down in prayer for some sin. + + Lo! two men pace; and one is gray, + A blue-eyed man from snow-clad land, + With something heavy in each hand,-- + With heavy feet, as feet of clay. + + Ay, two men pace; and one is light + Of step, but still his brow is dark + His eyes are as a kindled spark + That burns beneath the brow of night! + + And still they pace. The stars are red, + The tombs are white as frosted snow; + The silence is as if the dead + Did pace in couples, to and fro. + + +III. + + The azure curtain of God's house + Draws back, and hangs star-pinned to space; + I hear the low, large moon arouse, + I see her lift her languid face. + + I see her shoulder up the east, + Low-necked, and large as womanhood,-- + Low-necked, as for some ample feast + Of gods, within yon orange-wood. + + She spreads white palms, she whispers peace,-- + Sweet peace on earth for evermore; + Sweet peace for two beneath the trees, + Sweet peace for one within the door. + + The bent stream, like a scimitar + Flashed in the sun, sweeps on and on, + Till sheathed like some great sword new-drawn + In seas beneath the Carib's star. + + The high moon climbs the sapphire hill, + The lone sweet lady prays within; + The crickets keep a clang and din-- + They are so loud, earth is so still! + + And two men glare in silence there! + The bitter, jealous hate of each + Has grown too deep for deed or speech-- + The lone, sweet lady keeps her prayer. + + The vast moon high through heaven's field + In circling chariot is rolled; + The golden stars are spun and reeled, + And woven into cloth of gold. + + The white magnolia fills the night + With perfume, as the proud moon fills + The glad earth with her ample light + From out her awful sapphire hills. + + White orange blossoms fill the boughs + Above, about the old church door,-- + They wait the bride, the bridal vows,-- + They never hung so fair before. + + The two men glare as dark as sin! + And yet all seems so fair, so white, + You would not reckon it was night,-- + The while the lady prays within. + + +IV. + + She prays so very long and late,-- + The two men, weary, waiting there,-- + The great magnolia at the gate + Bends drowsily above her prayer. + + The cypress in his cloak of moss, + That watches on in silent gloom, + Has leaned and shaped a shadow-cross + Above the nameless, lowly tomb. + + What can she pray for? What her sin? + What folly of a maid so fair? + What shadows bind the wondrous hair + Of one who prays so long within? + + The palm-trees guard in regiment, + Stand right and left without the gate; + The myrtle-moss trees wait and wait; + The tall magnolia leans intent. + + The cypress trees, on gnarled old knees, + Far out the dank and marshy deep + Where slimy monsters groan and creep, + Kneel with her in their marshy seas. + + What can her sin be? Who shall know? + The night flies by,--a bird on wing; + The men no longer to and fro + Stride up and down, or anything. + + For one so weary and so old + Has hardly strength to stride or stir; + He can but hold his bags of gold,-- + But hug his gold and wait for her. + + The two stand still,--stand face to face. + The moon slides on; the midnight air + Is perfumed as a house of prayer-- + The maiden keeps her holy place. + + Two men! And one is gray, but one + Scarce lifts a full-grown face as yet: + With light foot on life's threshold set,-- + Is he the other's sun-born son? + + And one is of the land of snow, + And one is of the land of sun; + A black-eyed burning youth is one, + But one has pulses cold and slow: + + Ay, cold and slow from clime of snow + Where Nature's bosom, icy bound, + Holds all her forces, hard, profound,-- + Holds close where all the South lets go. + + Blame not the sun, blame not the snows; + God's great schoolhouse for all is clime, + The great school-teacher, Father Time; + And each has borne as best he knows. + + At last the elder speaks,--he cries,-- + He speaks as if his heart would break; + He speaks out as a man that dies,-- + As dying for some lost love's sake: + + "Come, take this bag of gold, and go! + Come, take one bag! See, I have two! + Oh, why stand silent, staring so, + When I would share my gold with you? + + "Come, take this gold! See how I pray! + See how I bribe, and beg, and buy,-- + Ay, buy! buy love, as you, too, may + Some day before you come to die. + + "God! take this gold, I beg, I pray! + I beg as one who thirsting cries + For but one drop of drink, and dies + In some lone, loveless desert way. + + "You hesitate? Still hesitate? + Stand silent still and mock my pain? + Still mock to see me wait and wait, + And wait her love, as earth waits rain?" + + +V. + + O broken ship! O starless shore! + O black and everlasting night, + Where love comes never any more + To light man's way with heaven's light. + + A godless man with bags of gold + I think a most unholy sight; + Ah, who so desolate at night + Amid death's sleepers still and cold? + + A godless man on holy ground + I think a most unholy sight. + I hear death trailing like a hound + Hard after him, and swift to bite. + + +VI. + + The vast moon settles to the west: + Two men beside a nameless tomb, + And one would sit thereon to rest,-- + Ay, rest below, if there were room. + + What is this rest of death, sweet friend? + What is the rising up,--and where? + I say, death is a lengthened prayer, + A longer night, a larger end. + + Hear you the lesson I once learned: + I died; I sailed a million miles + Through dreamful, flowery, restful isles,-- + She was not there, and I returned. + + I say the shores of death and sleep + Are one; that when we, wearied, come + To Lethe's waters, and lie dumb, + 'Tis death, not sleep, holds us to keep. + + Yea, we lie dead for need of rest + And so the soul drifts out and o'er + The vast still waters to the shore + Beyond, in pleasant, tranquil quest: + + It sails straight on, forgetting pain, + Past isles of peace, to perfect rest,-- + Now were it best abide, or best + Return and take up life again? + + And that is all of death there is, + Believe me. If you find your love + In that far land, then like the dove + Abide, and turn not back to this. + + But if you find your love not there; + Or if your feet feel sure, and you + Have still allotted work to do,-- + Why, then return to toil and care. + + Death is no mystery. 'Tis plain + If death be mystery, then sleep + Is mystery thrice strangely deep,-- + For oh this coming back again! + + Austerest ferryman of souls! + I see the gleam of solid shores, + I hear thy steady stroke of oars + Above the wildest wave that rolls. + + O Charon, keep thy sombre ships! + We come, with neither myrrh nor balm, + Nor silver piece in open palm, + But lone white silence on our lips. + + +VII. + + She prays so long! she prays so late! + What sin in all this flower-land + Against her supplicating hand + Could have in heaven any weight? + + Prays she for her sweet self alone? + Prays she for some one far away, + Or some one near and dear to-day, + Or some poor, lorn, lost soul unknown? + + It seems to me a selfish thing + To pray forever for one's self; + It seems to me like heaping pelf + In heaven by hard reckoning. + + Why, I would rather stoop, and bear + My load of sin, and bear it well + And bravely down to burning hell, + Than ever pray one selfish prayer! + + +VIII. + + The swift chameleon in the gloom-- + This silence it is so profound!-- + Forsakes its bough, glides to the ground, + Then up, and lies across the tomb. + + It erst was green as olive-leaf, + It then grew gray as myrtle moss + The time it slid the moss across; + But now 'tis marble-white with grief. + + The little creature's hues are gone; + Here in the pale and ghostly light + It lies so pale, so panting white,-- + White as the tomb it lies upon. + + The two men by that nameless tomb, + And both so still! You might have said + These two men, they are also dead, + And only waiting here for room. + + How still beneath the orange-bough! + How tall was one, how bowed was one! + The one was as a journey done, + The other as beginning now. + + And one was young,--young with that youth + Eternal that belongs to truth; + And one was old,--old with the years + That follow fast on doubts and fears. + + And yet the habit of command + Was his, in every stubborn part; + No common knave was he at heart, + Nor his the common coward's hand. + + He looked the young man in the face, + So full of hate, so frank of hate; + The other, standing in his place, + Stared back as straight and hard as fate. + + And now he sudden turned away, + And now he paced the path, and now + Came back, beneath the orange-bough + Pale-browed, with lips as cold as clay. + + As mute as shadows on a wall, + As silent still, as dark as they, + Before that stranger, bent and gray, + The youth stood scornful, proud, and tall. + + He stood, a tall palmetto-tree + With Spanish daggers guarding it; + Nor deed, nor word, to him seemed fit + While she prayed on so silently. + + He slew his rival with his eyes; + His eyes were daggers piercing deep,-- + So deep that blood began to creep + From their deep wounds and drop wordwise: + + His eyes so black, so bright that they + Might raise the dead, the living slay, + If but the dead, the living, bore + Such hearts as heroes had of yore: + + Two deadly arrows barbed in black, + And feathered, too, with raven's wing; + Two arrows that could silent sting, + And with a death-wound answer back. + + How fierce he was! how deadly still + In that mesmeric, hateful stare + Turned on the pleading stranger there + That drew to him, despite his will: + + So like a bird down-fluttering, + Down, down, beneath a snake's bright eyes, + He stood, a fascinated thing, + That hopeless, unresisting, dies. + + He raised a hard hand as before, + Reached out the gold, and offered it + With hand that shook as ague-fit,-- + The while the youth but scorned the more. + + "You will not touch it? In God's name + Who are you, and what are you, then? + Come, take this gold, and be of men,-- + A human form with human aim. + + "Yea, take this gold,--she must be mine + She shall be mine! I do not fear + Your scowl, your scorn, your soul austere, + The living, dead, or your dark sign. + + "I saw her as she entered there; + I saw her, and uncovered stood: + The perfume of her womanhood + Was holy incense on the air. + + "She left behind sweet sanctity, + Religion lay the way she went; + I cried I would repent, repent! + She passed on, all unheeding me. + + "Her soul is young, her eyes are bright + And gladsome, as mine own are dim; + But, oh, I felt my senses swim + The time she passed me by to-night!-- + + "The time she passed, nor raised her eyes + To hear me cry I would repent, + Nor turned her head to hear my cries, + But swifter went the way she went,-- + + "Went swift as youth, for all these years! + And this the strangest thing appears, + That lady there seems just the same,-- + Sweet Gladys-- Ah! you know her name? + + "You hear her name and start that I + Should name her dear name trembling so? + Why, boy, when I shall come to die + That name shall be the last I know. + + "That name shall be the last sweet name + My lips shall utter in this life! + That name is brighter than bright flame,-- + That lady is my wedded wife! + + "Ah, start and catch your burning breath! + Ah, start and clutch your deadly knife! + If this be death, then be it death,-- + But that loved lady is my wife! + + "Yea, you are stunned! your face is white, + That I should come confronting you, + As comes a lorn ghost of the night + From out the past, and to pursue. + + "You thought me dead? You shake your head, + You start back horrified to know + That she is loved, that she is wed, + That you have sinned in loving so. + + "Yet what seems strange, that lady there, + Housed in the holy house of prayer, + Seems just the same for all her tears,-- + For all my absent twenty years. + + "Yea, twenty years to-night, to-night, + Just twenty years this day, this hour, + Since first I plucked that perfect flower, + And not one witness of the rite. + + "Nay, do not doubt,--I tell you true! + Her prayers, her tears, her constancy + Are all for me, are all for me,-- + And not one single thought for you! + + "I knew, I knew she would be here + This night of nights to pray for me! + And how could I for twenty year + Know this same night so certainly? + + "Ah me! some thoughts that we would drown + Stick closer than a brother to + The conscience, and pursue, pursue + Like baying hound to hunt us down. + + "And then, that date is history; + For on that night this shore was shelled, + And many a noble mansion felled, + With many a noble family. + + "I wore the blue; I watched the flight + Of shells like stars tossed through the air + To blow your hearth-stones--anywhere, + That wild, illuminated night. + + "Nay, rage befits you not so well: + Why, you were but a babe at best, + Your cradle some sharp bursted shell + That tore, maybe, your mother's breast! + + "Hear me! We came in honored war. + The risen world was on your track! + The whole North-land was at our back, + From Hudson's bank to the North star! + + "And from the North to palm-set sea + The splendid fiery cyclone swept. + Your fathers fell, your mothers wept, + Their nude babes clinging to the knee. + + "A wide and desolated track: + Behind, a path of ruin lay; + Before, some women by the way + Stood mutely gazing, clad in black. + + "From silent women waiting there + Some tears came down like still small rain; + Their own sons on the battle plain + Were now but viewless ghosts of air. + + "Their own dear daring boys in gray,-- + They should not see them any more; + Our cruel drums kept telling o'er + The time their own sons went away. + + "Through burning town, by bursting shell-- + Yea, I remember well that night; + I led through orange-lanes of light, + As through some hot outpost of hell! + + "That night of rainbow-shot and shell + Sent from your surging river's breast + To waken me, no more to rest,-- + That night I should remember well! + + "That night amid the maimed and dead,-- + A night in history set down + By light of many a burning town, + And written all across in red,-- + + "Her father dead, her brothers dead, + Her home in flames,--what else could she + But fly all helpless here to me, + A fluttered dove, that night of dread? + + "Short time, hot time had I to woo + Amid the red shells' battle-chime; + But women rarely reckon time, + And perils speed their love when true. + + "And then I wore a captain's sword; + And, too, had oftentime before + Doffed cap at her dead father's door, + And passed a soldier's pleasant word. + + "And then--ah, I was comely then! + I bore no load upon my back, + I heard no hounds upon my track, + But stood the tallest of tall men. + + "Her father's and her mother's shrine, + This church amid the orange wood, + So near and so secure it stood, + It seemed to beckon as a sign. + + "Its white cross seemed to beckon me: + My heart was strong, and it was mine + To throw myself upon my knee, + To beg to lead her to this shrine. + + "She did consent. Through lanes of light + I led through that church-door that night-- + Let fall your hand! Take back your face + And stand,--stand patient in your place! + + "She loved me; and she loves me still. + Yea, she clung close to me that hour + As honey-bee to honey-flower,-- + And still is mine, through good or ill. + + "The priest stood there. He spake the prayer; + He made the holy, mystic sign. + And she was mine, was wholly mine,-- + Is mine this moment I will swear! + + "Then days, then nights, of vast delight,-- + Then came a doubtful, later day; + The faithful priest, now far away, + Watched with the dying in the fight: + + "The priest amid the dying, dead, + Kept duty on the battle-field,-- + That midnight marriage unrevealed + Kept strange thoughts running through my head. + + "At last a stray ball struck the priest: + This vestibule his chancel was. + And now none lived to speak her cause, + Record, or champion her the least. + + "Hear me! I had been bred to hate + All priests, their mummeries and all. + Ah, it was fate,--ah, it was fate + That all things tempted me to fall! + + "And then the rattling songs we sang + Those nights when rudely revelling,-- + The songs that only soldiers sing,-- + Until the very tent-poles rang! + + "What is the rhyme that rhymers say + Of maidens born to be betrayed + By epaulettes and shining blade, + While soldiers love and ride away? + + "And then my comrades spake her name + Half taunting, with a touch of shame; + Taught me to hold that lily-flower + As some light pastime of the hour. + + "And then the ruin in the land, + The death, dismay, the lawlessness! + Men gathered gold on every hand,-- + Heaped gold: and why should I do less? + + "The cry for gold was in the air, + For Creole gold, for precious things; + The sword kept prodding here and there + Through bolts and sacred fastenings. + + "'Get gold! get gold!' This was the cry. + And I loved gold. What else could I + Or you, or any earnest one + Born in this getting age have done? + + "With this one lesson taught from youth, + And ever taught us, to get gold,-- + To get and hold, and ever hold,-- + What else could I have done, forsooth? + + "She, seeing how I sought for gold,-- + This girl, my wife, one late night told + Of treasures hidden close at hand, + In her dead father's mellow land: + + "Of gold she helped her brothers hide + Beneath a broad banana tree, + The day the two in battle died,-- + The night she dying fled to me. + + "It seemed too good; I laughed to scorn + Her trustful tale. She answered not; + But meekly on the morrow morn + Two massive bags of bright gold brought. + + "And when she brought this gold to me, + Red Creole gold, rich, rare, and old,-- + When I at last had gold, sweet gold, + I cried in very ecstasy! + + "Red gold! rich gold! two bags of gold! + The two stout bags of gold she brought + And gave with scarce a second thought,-- + Why, her two hands could hardly hold! + + "Now I had gold! two bags of gold! + Two wings of gold to fly, and fly + The wide world's girth; red gold to hold + Against my heart for aye and aye! + + "My country's lesson: 'Gold! get gold!' + I learned it well in land of snow; + And what can glow, so brightly glow, + Long winter nights of Northern cold? + + "Ay, now at last, at last I had + The one thing, all fair things above + My land had taught me most to love! + A miser now! and I grew mad. + + "With those two bags of gold my own, + I then began to plan that night + For flight, for far and sudden flight,-- + For flight; and, too, for flight alone. + + "I feared! I feared! My heart grew cold,-- + Some one might claim this gold of me! + I feared her,--feared her purity, + Feared all things but my bags of gold. + + "I grew to hate her face, her creed,-- + That face the fairest ever yet + That bowed o'er holy cross or bead, + Or yet was in God's image set. + + "I fled,--nay, not so knavish low + As you have fancied, did I fly; + I sought her at that shrine, and I + Told her full frankly I should go. + + "I stood a giant in my power,-- + And did she question or dispute? + I stood a savage, selfish brute,-- + She bowed her head, a lily-flower. + + "And when I sudden turned to go, + And told her I should come no more, + She bowed her head so low, so low, + Her vast black hair fell pouring o'er. + + "And that was all; her splendid face + Was mantled from me, and her night + Of hair half hid her from my sight + As she fell moaning in her place. + + "And there, 'mid her dark night of hair, + She sobbed, low moaning through her tears, + That she would wait, wait all the years,-- + Would wait and pray in her despair. + + "Nay, did not murmur, not deny,-- + She did not cross me one sweet word! + I turned and fled: I thought I heard + A night-bird's piercing low death-cry!" + + + + +THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. + +PART II. + + + How soft this moonlight of the South! + How sweet my South in soft moonlight! + I want to kiss her warm sweet mouth + As she lies sleeping here to-night. + + How still! I do not hear a mouse. + I see some bursting buds appear; + I hear God in His garden,--hear + Him trim some flowers for His house. + + I hear some singing stars; the mouth + Of my vast river sings and sings, + And pipes on reeds of pleasant things,-- + Of splendid promise for my South: + + My great South-woman, soon to rise + And tiptoe up and loose her hair; + Tiptoe, and take from all the skies + God's stars and glorious moon to wear! + + +I. + + The poet shall create or kill, + Bid heroes live, bid braggarts die. + I look against a lurid sky,-- + My silent South lies proudly still. + + The lurid light of burning lands + Still climbs to God's house overhead; + Mute women wring white withered hands; + Their eyes are red, their skies are red. + + Poor man! still boast your bitter wars! + Still burn and burn, and burning die. + But God's white finger spins the stars + In calm dominion of the sky. + + And not one ray of light the less + Comes down to bid the grasses spring; + No drop of dew nor anything + Shall fail for all your bitterness. + + The land that nursed a nation's youth, + Ye burned it, sacked it, sapped it dry. + Ye gave it falsehoods for its truth, + And fame was fashioned from a lie. + + If man grows large, is God the less? + The moon shall rise and set the same, + The great sun spill his splendid flame + And clothe the world in queenliness. + + And from that very soil ye trod + Some large-souled seeing youth shall come + Some day, and he shall not be dumb + Before the awful court of God. + + +II. + + The weary moon had turned away, + The far North-Star was turning pale + To hear the stranger's boastful tale + Of blood and flame that battle day. + + And yet again the two men glared, + Close face to face above that tomb; + Each seemed as jealous of the room + The other eager waiting shared. + + Again the man began to say,-- + As taking up some broken thread, + As talking to the patient dead,-- + The Creole was as still as they: + + "That night we burned yon grass-grown town,-- + The grasses, vines are reaching up; + The ruins they are reaching down, + As sun-browned soldiers when they sup. + + "I knew her,--knew her constancy. + She said, this night of every year + She here would come, and kneeling here, + Would pray the live-long night for me. + + "This praying seems a splendid thing! + It drives old Time the other way; + It makes him lose all reckoning + Of years that pagans have to pay. + + "This praying seems a splendid thing! + It makes me stronger as she prays-- + But oh the bitter, bitter days + When I became a banished thing! + + "I fled, took ship,--I fled as far + As far ships drive tow'rd the North-Star; + For I did hate the South, the sun + That made me think what I had done. + + "I could not see a fair palm-tree + In foreign land, in pleasant place, + But it would whisper of her face + And shake its keen sharp blades at me. + + "Each black-eyed woman would recall + A lone church-door, a face, a name, + A coward's flight, a soldier's shame: + I fled from woman's face, from all. + + "I hugged my gold, my precious gold, + Within my strong, stout, buckskin vest. + I wore my bags against my breast + So close I felt my heart grow cold. + + "I did not like to see it now; + I did not spend one single piece. + I travelled, travelled without cease + As far as Russian ship could plow. + + "And when my own scant hoard was gone, + And I had reached the far North-land, + I took my two stout bags in hand + As one pursued, and journeyed on. + + "Ah, I was weary! I grew gray; + I felt the fast years slip and reel + As slip black beads when maidens kneel + At altars when out-door is gay. + + "At last I fell prone in the road,-- + Fell fainting with my cursed load. + A skin-clad cossack helped me bear + My bags, nor would one shilling share. + + "He looked at me with proud disdain,-- + He looked at me as if he knew; + His black eyes burned me thro' and thro'; + His scorn pierced like a deadly pain. + + "He frightened me with honesty; + He made me feel so small, so base, + I fled, as if the fiend kept chase,-- + The fiend that claims my company! + + "I bore my load alone; I crept + Far up the steep and icy way; + And there, before a cross there lay + A barefoot priest, who bowed and wept. + + "I threw my gold right down and sped + Straight on. And oh my heart was light! + A spring-time bird in spring-time flight + Flies not so happy as I fled. + + "I felt somehow this monk would take + My gold, my load from off my back; + Would turn the fiend from off my track, + Would take my gold for sweet Christ's sake! + + "I fled; I did not look behind; + I fled, fled with the mountain wind. + At last; far down the mountain's base + I found a pleasant resting-place. + + "I rested there so long, so well, + More grateful than all tongues can tell. + It was such pleasant thing to hear + That valley's voices calm and clear: + + "That valley veiled in mountain air, + With white goats on the hills at morn; + That valley green with seas of corn, + With cottage islands here and there. + + "I watched the mountain girls. The hay + They mowed was not more sweet than they; + They laid brown hands in my white hair; + They marvelled at my face of care. + + "I tried to laugh; I could but weep. + I made these peasants one request,-- + That I with them might toil or rest, + And with them sleep the long, last sleep. + + "I begged that I might battle there, + For that fair valley-land, for those + Who gave me cheer when girt with foes, + And have a country, loved and fair. + + "Where is that spot that poets name + Our country? name the hallowed land? + Where is that spot where man must stand + Or fall when girt with sword and flame? + + "Where is that one permitted spot? + Where is the one place man must fight? + Where rests the one God-given right + To fight, as ever patriots fought? + + "I say 'tis in that holy house + Where God first set us down on earth: + Where mother welcomed us at birth, + And bared her breasts, a happy spouse. + + "But when some wrong, some deed of shame, + Shall make that land no more our own-- + Ah! hunger for that holy name + My country, I have truly known! + + "The simple plough-boy from his field + Looks forth. He sees God's purple wall + Encircling him. High over all + The vast sun wheels his shining shield. + + "This King, who makes earth what it is,-- + King David bending to his toil! + O lord and master of the soil, + How envied in thy loyal bliss! + + "Long live the land we loved in youth,-- + That world with blue skies bent about, + Where never entered ugly doubt! + Long live the simple, homely truth! + + "Can true hearts love some far snow-land, + Some bleak Alaska bought with gold? + God's laws are old as love is old; + And Home is something near at hand. + + "Yea, change yon river's course; estrange + The seven sweet stars; make hate divide + The full moon from the flowing tide,-- + But this old truth ye cannot change. + + "I begged a land as begging bread; + I begged of these brave mountaineers + To share their sorrows, share their tears; + To weep as they wept, with their dead. + + "They did consent. The mountain town + Was mine to love, and valley lands. + That night the barefoot monk came down + And laid my two bags in my hands! + + "On! On! And oh the load I bore! + Why, once I dreamed my soul was lead; + Dreamed once it was a body dead! + It made my cold, hard bosom sore. + + "I dragged that body forth and back-- + O conscience, what a baying hound! + Nor frozen seas nor frosted ground + Can throw this bloodhound from his track. + + "In farthest Russia I lay down + A dying man, at last to rest; + I felt such load upon my breast + As seamen feel, who sinking drown. + + "That night, all chill and desperate, + I sprang up, for I could not rest; + I tore the two bags from my breast, + And dashed them in the burning grate. + + "I then crept back into my bed; + I tried, I begged, I prayed to sleep; + But those red, restless coins would keep + Slow dropping, dropping, and blood red. + + "I heard them clink and clink and clink,-- + They turned, they talked within that grate. + They talked of her; they made me think + Of one who still must pray and wait. + + "And when the bags burned crisp and black, + Two coins did start, roll to the floor,-- + Roll out, roll on, and then roll back, + As if they needs must journey more. + + "Ah, then I knew nor change nor space, + Nor all the drowning years that rolled + Could hide from me her haunting face, + Nor still that red-tongued talking gold. + + "Again I sprang forth from my bed! + I shook as in an ague fit; + I clutched that red gold, burning red, + I clutched, as if to strangle it. + + "I clutched it up--you hear me, boy?-- + I clutched it up with joyful tears! + I clutched it close, with such wild joy + I had not felt for years and years! + + "Such joy! for I should now retrace + My steps, should see my land, her face; + Bring back her gold this battle day, + And see her, see her, hear her pray! + + "I brought it back--you hear me, boy?-- + I clutch it, hold it, hold it now: + Red gold, bright gold that giveth joy + To all, and anywhere or how; + + "That giveth joy to all but me,-- + To all but me, yet soon to all. + It burns my hands, it burns! but she + Shall ope my hands and let it fall. + + "For oh I have a willing hand + To give these bags of gold; to see + Her smile as once she smiled on me + Here in this pleasant, warm palm-land!" + + He ceased, he thrust each hard-clenched fist, + He threw his gold hard forth again, + As one impelled by some mad pain + He would not or could not resist. + + The creole, scorning, turned away, + As if he turned from that lost thief,-- + The one that died without belief + That awful crucifixion day. + + +III. + + Believe in man, nor turn away. + Lo! man advances year by year; + Time bears him upward, and his sphere + Of life must broaden day by day. + + Believe in man with large belief; + The garnered grain each harvest-time + Hath promise, roundness, and full prime + For all the empty chaff and sheaf. + + Believe in man with proud belief: + Truth keeps the bottom of her well, + And when the thief peeps down, the thief + Peeps back at him, perpetual. + + Faint not that this or that man fell; + For one that falls a thousand rise + To lift white Progress to the skies: + Truth keeps the bottom of her well. + + Fear not for man, nor cease to delve + For cool sweet truth, with large belief. + Lo! Christ himself chose only twelve, + Yet one of these turned out a thief. + + +IV. + + Down through the dark magnolia leaves + Where climbs the rose of Cherokee + Against the orange-blossomed tree, + A loom of moonlight weaves and weaves,-- + + A loom of moonlight, weaving clothes + From snow-white rose of Cherokee, + And bridal blooms of orange-tree, + For fairy folk in fragrant rose. + + Down through the mournful myrtle crape, + Through moving moss, through ghostly gloom, + A long white moonbeam takes a shape + Above a nameless, lowly tomb; + + A long white finger through the gloom + Of grasses gathered round about,-- + As God's white finger pointing out + A name upon that nameless tomb. + + +V. + + Her white face bowed in her black hair, + The maiden prays so still within + That you might hear a falling pin,-- + Ay, hear her white unuttered prayer. + + The moon has grown disconsolate, + Has turned her down her walk of stars: + Why, she is shutting up her bars, + As maidens shut a lover's gate. + + The moon has grown disconsolate; + She will no longer watch and wait. + But two men wait; and two men will + Wait on till morning, mute and still: + + Still wait and walk among the trees, + Quite careless if the moon may keep + Her walk along her starry steep + Above the Southern pearl-sown seas. + + They know no moon, or set or rise + Of stars, or anything to light + The earth or skies, save her dark eyes, + This praying, waking, watching night. + + They move among the tombs apart, + Their eyes turn ever to that door; + They know the worn walks there by heart-- + They turn and walk them o'er and o'er. + + They are not wide, these little walks + For dead folk by this crescent town. + They lie right close when they lie down, + As if they kept up quiet talks. + + +VI. + + The two men keep their paths apart; + But more and more begins to stoop + The man with gold, as droop and droop + Tall plants with something at their heart. + + Now once again with eager zest + He offers gold with silent speech; + The other will not walk in reach, + But walks around, as round a pest. + + His dark eyes sweep the scene around, + His young face drinks the fragrant air, + His dark eyes journey everywhere,-- + The other's cleave unto the ground. + + It is a weary walk for him, + For oh he bears a weary load! + He does not like that narrow road + Between the dead--it is so dim: + + It is so dark, that narrow place, + Where graves lie thick, like yellow leaves: + Give us the light of Christ and grace, + Give light to garner in the sheaves. + + Give light of love; for gold is cold, + And gold is cruel as a crime; + It gives no light at such sad time + As when man's feet wax weak and old. + + Ay, gold is heavy, hard, and cold! + And have I said this thing before? + Well, I will tell it o'er and o'er, + 'Twere need be told ten thousand fold. + + "Give us this day our daily bread,"-- + Get this of God, then all the rest + Is housed in thine own honest breast, + If you but lift a lordly head. + + +VII. + + Oh, I have seen men, tall and fair, + Stoop down their manhood with disgust, + Stoop down God's image to the dust, + To get a load of gold to bear; + + Have seen men selling day by day + The glance of manhood that God gave: + To sell God's image as a slave + Might sell some little pot of clay! + + Behold! here in this green graveyard + A man with gold enough to fill + A coffin, as a miller's till; + And yet his path is hard, so hard! + + His feet keep sinking in the sand, + And now so near an opened grave! + He seems to hear the solemn wave + Of dread oblivion at hand. + + The sands, they grumble so, it seems + As if he walks some shelving brink. + He tries to stop, he tries to think, + He tries to make believe he dreams: + + Why, he is free to leave the land, + The silver moon is white as dawn; + Why, he has gold in either hand, + Has silver ways to walk upon. + + And who should chide, or bid him stay? + Or taunt, or threat, or bid him fly? + The world's for sale, I hear men say, + And yet this man has gold to buy. + + Buy what? Buy rest? He could not rest! + Buy gentle sleep? He could not sleep, + Though all these graves were wide and deep + As their wide mouths with the request. + + Buy Love, buy faith, buy snow-white truth? + Buy moonlight, sunlight, present, past? + Buy but one brimful cup of youth + That calm souls drink of to the last? + + O God! 'tis pitiful to see + This miser so forlorn and old! + O God! how poor a man may be + With nothing in this world but gold! + + +VIII. + + The broad magnolia's blooms are white; + Her blooms are large, as if the moon + Had lost her way some lazy night, + And lodged here till the afternoon. + + Oh, vast white blossoms breathing love! + White bosom of my lady dead, + In your white heaven overhead + I look, and learn to look above. + + +IX. + + All night the tall magnolia kept + Kind watch above the nameless tomb: + Two shapes kept waiting in the gloom + And gray of morn, where roses wept. + + The dew-wet roses wept; their eyes + All dew, their breath as sweet as prayer. + And as they wept, the dead down there + Did feel their tears and hear their sighs. + + The grass uprose as if afraid + Some stranger foot might press too near; + Its every blade was like a spear, + Its every spear a living blade. + + The grass above that nameless tomb + Stood all arrayed, as if afraid + Some weary pilgrim seeking room + And rest, might lay where she was laid. + + +X. + + 'Twas morn, and yet it was not morn; + 'Twas morn in heaven, not on earth,-- + A star was singing of a birth, + Just saying that a day was born. + + The marsh hard by that bound the lake,-- + The great low sea-lake, Ponchartrain, + Shut off from sultry Cuban main,-- + Drew up its legs, as half awake: + + Drew long stork legs, long legs that steep + In slime where alligators creep,-- + Drew long green legs that stir the grass, + As when the late lorn night-winds pass. + + Then from the marsh came croakings low, + Then louder croaked some sea-marsh beast; + Then, far away against the east, + God's rose of morn began to grow. + + From out the marsh, against that east, + A ghostly moss-swept cypress stood; + With ragged arms above the wood + It rose, a God-forsaken beast. + + It seemed so frightened where it rose! + The moss-hung thing it seemed to wave + The worn-out garments of the grave,-- + To wave and wave its old grave-clothes. + + Close by, a cow rose up and lowed + From out a palm-thatched milking-shed. + A black boy on the river road + Fled sudden, as the night had fled: + + A nude black boy, a bit of night + That had been broken off and lost + From flying night, the time it crossed + The surging river in its flight: + + A bit of darkness, following + The sable night on sable wing,-- + A bit of darkness stilled with fear, + Because that nameless tomb was near. + + Then holy bells came pealing out; + Then steamboats blew, then horses neighed; + Then smoke from hamlets round about + Crept out, as if no more afraid. + + Then shrill cocks here, and shrill cocks there, + Stretched glossy necks and filled the air. + How many cocks it takes to make + A country morning well awake! + + Then many boughs, with many birds,-- + Young boughs in green, old boughs in gray,-- + These birds had very much to say + In their soft, sweet, familiar words. + + And all seemed sudden glad; the gloom + Forgot the church, forgot the tomb; + And yet like monks with cross and bead + The myrtles leaned to read and read. + + And oh the fragrance of the sod! + And oh the perfume of the air! + The sweetness, sweetness everywhere, + That rose like incense up to God! + + I like a cow's breath in sweet spring, + I like the breath of babes new-born; + A maid's breath is a pleasant thing,-- + But oh the breath of sudden morn! + + Of sudden morn, when every pore + Of mother earth is pulsing fast + With life, and life seems spilling o'er + With love, with love too sweet to last: + + Of sudden morn beneath the sun, + By God's great river wrapped in gray, + That for a space forgets to run, + And hides his face as if to pray. + + +XI. + + The black-eyed Creole kept his eyes + Turned to the door, as eyes might turn + To see the holy embers burn + Some sin away at sacrifice. + + Full dawn! but yet he knew no dawn, + Nor song of bird, nor bird on wing, + Nor breath of rose, nor anything + Her fair face lifted not upon. + + And yet he taller stood with morn; + His bright eyes, brighter than before, + Burned fast against that fastened door, + His proud lips lifting up with scorn,-- + + With lofty, silent scorn for one + Who all night long had plead and plead, + With none to witness but the dead + How he for gold must be undone. + + Oh, ye who feed a greed for gold, + And barter truth, and trade sweet youth + For cold hard gold, behold, behold! + Behold this man! behold this truth! + + Why, what is there in all God's plan + Of vast creation, high or low, + By sea or land, by sun or snow, + So mean, so miserly as man? + + Lo, earth and heaven all let go + Their garnered riches, year by year! + The treasures of the trackless snow, + Ah, hast thou seen how very dear? + + The wide earth gives, gives golden grain, + Gives fruits of gold, gives all, gives all! + Hold forth your hand, and these shall fall + In your full palm as free as rain. + + Yea, earth is generous. The trees + Strip nude as birth-time without fear, + And their reward is year by year + To feel their fulness but increase. + + The law of Nature is to give, + To give, to give! and to rejoice + In giving with a generous voice, + And so trust God and truly live. + + But see this miser at the last,-- + This man who loves, grasps hold of gold, + Who grasps it with such eager hold, + To hold forever hard and fast: + + As if to hold what God lets go; + As if to hold, while all around + Lets go, and drops upon the ground + All things as generous as snow. + + Let go your greedy hold, I say! + Let go your hold! Do not refuse + 'Till death comes by and shakes you loose, + And sends you shamed upon your way. + + What if the sun should keep his gold? + The rich moon lock her silver up? + What if the gold-clad buttercup + Became a miser, mean and old? + + Ah, me! the coffins are so true + In all accounts, the shrouds so thin, + That down there you might sew and sew, + Nor ever sew one pocket in. + + And all that you can hold of lands + Down there, below the grass, down there, + Will only be that little share + You hold in your two dust-full hands. + + +XII. + + She comes! she comes! The stony floor + Speaks out! And now the rusty door + At last has just one word this day, + With mute religious lips, to say. + + She comes! she comes! And lo, her face + Is upward, radiant, fair as prayer! + So pure here in this holy place, + Where holy peace is everywhere. + + Her upraised face, her face of light + And loveliness, from duty done, + Is like a rising orient sun + That pushes back the brow of night. + + How brave, how beautiful is truth! + Good deeds untold are like to this. + But fairest of all fair things is + A pious maiden in her youth: + + A pious maiden as she stands + Just on the threshold of the years + That throb and pulse with hopes and fears, + And reaches God her helpless hands. + + How fair is she! How fond is she! + Her foot upon the threshold there. + Her breath is as a blossomed tree,-- + This maiden mantled in her hair! + + Her hair, her black, abundant hair, + Where night, inhabited all night + And all this day, will not take flight, + But finds content and houses there. + + Her hands are clasped, her two small hands; + They hold the holy book of prayer + Just as she steps the threshold there, + Clasped downward where she silent stands. + + +XIII. + + Once more she lifts her lowly face, + And slowly lifts her large, dark eyes + Of wonder; and in still surprise + She looks full forward in her place. + + She looks full forward on the air + Above the tomb, and yet below + The fruits of gold, the blooms of snow, + As looking--looking anywhere. + + She feels--she knows not what she feels; + It is not terror, is not fear, + But there is something that reveals + A presence that is near and dear. + + She does not let her eyes fall down, + They lift against the far profound: + Against the blue above the town + Two wide-winged vultures circle round. + + Two brown birds swim above the sea,-- + Her large eyes swim as dreamily + And follow far, and follow high, + Two circling black specks in the sky. + + One forward step,--the closing door + Creaks out, as frightened or in pain; + Her eyes are on the ground again-- + Two men are standing close before. + + "My love," sighs one, "my life, my all!" + Her lifted foot across the sill + Sinks down,--and all things are so still + You hear the orange blossoms fall. + + But fear comes not where duty is, + And purity is peace and rest; + Her cross is close upon her breast, + Her two hands clasp hard hold of this. + + Her two hands clasp cross, book, and she + Is strong in tranquil purity,-- + Ay, strong as Samson when he laid + His two hands forth, and bowed and prayed. + + One at her left, one at her right, + And she between, the steps upon,-- + I can but see that Syrian night, + The women there at early dawn + + 'Tis strange, I know, and may be wrong, + But ever pictured in my song; + And rhyming on, I see the day + They came to roll the stone away. + + +XIV. + + The sky is like an opal sea, + The air is like the breath of kine, + But oh her face is white, and she + Leans faint to see a lifted sign,-- + + To see two hands lift up and wave + To see a face so white with woe, + So ghastly, hollow, white as though + It had that moment left the grave. + + Her sweet face at that ghostly sign, + Her fair face in her weight of hair, + Is like a white dove drowning there,-- + A white dove drowned in Tuscan wine. + + He tries to stand, to stand erect. + 'Tis gold, 'tis gold that holds him down! + And soul and body both must drown,-- + Two millstones tied about his neck. + + Now once again his piteous face + Is raised to her face reaching there. + He prays such piteous, silent prayer + As prays a dying man for grace. + + It is not good to see him strain + To lift his hands, to gasp, to try + To speak. His parched lips are so dry + Their sight is as a living pain. + + I think that rich man down in hell + Some like this old man with his gold,-- + To gasp and gasp perpetual + Like to this minute I have told. + + +XV. + + At last the miser cries his pain,-- + A shrill, wild cry, as if a grave + Just ope'd its stony lips and gave + One sentence forth, then closed again. + + "'Twas twenty years last night, last night!" + His lips still moved, but not to speak; + His outstretched hands so trembling weak + Were beggar's hands in sorry plight. + + His face upturned to hers, his lips + Kept talking on, but gave no sound; + His feet were cloven to the ground; + Like iron hooks his finger-tips. + + "Ay, twenty years," she sadly sighed: + "I promised mother every year + That I would pray for father here, + As she had prayed, the night she died: + + "To pray as she prayed, fervidly; + As she had promised she would pray + The sad night of her marriage day, + For him, wherever he might be." + + Then she was still; then sudden she + Let fall her eyes, and so outspake + As if her very heart would break, + Her proud lips trembling piteously: + + "And whether he come soon or late + To kneel beside this nameless grave, + May God forgive my father's hate + As I forgive, as she forgave!" + + He saw the stone; he understood + With that quick knowledge that will come + Most quick when men are made most dumb + With terror that stops still the blood. + + And then a blindness slowly fell + On soul and body; but his hands + Held tight his bags, two iron bands, + As if to bear them into hell. + + He sank upon the nameless stone + With oh such sad, such piteous moan + As never man might seek to know + From man's most unforgiving foe. + + He sighed at last, so long, so deep, + As one heart breaking in one's sleep,-- + One long, last, weary, willing sigh, + As if it were a grace to die. + + And then his hands, like loosened bands, + Hung down, hung down on either side; + His hands hung down and opened wide: + He rested in the orange lands. + + + + +University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE. + +The following emendations have been made to the text: + + "You will not touch it? In God's name + for + 'You will not touch it? In God's name + + "That night of rainbow-shot and shell + for + That night of rainbow-shot and shell + + "That night amid the maimed and dead,-- + for + That night amid the maimed and dead,-- + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Songs of the Mexican Seas, by Joaquin Miller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF THE MEXICAN SEAS *** + +***** This file should be named 38766.txt or 38766.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/7/6/38766/ + +Produced by Daniel Emerson Griffith and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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