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diff --git a/40490-0.txt b/40490-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90e5de8 --- /dev/null +++ b/40490-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,643 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40490 *** + +[Illustration: Cover] + + + + + +The White Canoe + +And other Verse + + + +BY ALAN SULLIVAN + + + + +TORONTO: + +THE J. E. BRYANT CO. (LTD.) + +1891. + + + + + The White Canoe + And other Verse. + + + + + The White Canoe. + + There's a whisper of life in the grey dead trees, + And a murmuring wash on the shore, + And a breath of the South in the loitering breeze, + To tell that a winter is o'er. + While free, at last, from its fetters of ice + The river is clear and blue, + And cries with a tremulous quivering voice + For the launch of the White Canoe. + + Oh, gently the ripples will kiss her side, + And tenderly bear her on; + For she is the wandering phantom bride + Of the river she rests upon; + She is loved with a love that cannot forget, + A passion so strong and true, + That never a billow has risen yet + To peril the White Canoe. + + So come when the moon is enthroned in the sky, + And the echoes are sweet and low, + And Nature is full of the mystery + That none but her children know; + Come, taste of the rest that the weary crave, + But is only revealed to a few: + When there's trouble on shore, there's peace on the wave, + Afloat in the White Canoe. + + + + + A Vision. + + To-night, sweetheart, when all about me lay + In shadow deep the wood, + I felt my soul within me reel and sway + And pulse my sluggish blood, + As when along a quiet land-locked bay + Swells some resistless flood. + + My spirit leapt from out its earthly prison, + Higher and ever higher, + Until it reached those barriers Elysian + Where the eternal fire + Creates one great impassable division + Twixt us and our desire. + + Up, till it left the regions of the night, + Of sorrow and of fear, + Emerging into that soft mellow light, + That radiance pure and clear, + Where Love reigns all supreme, and all is bright + If only Love be near. + + There through sweet meadows, on by brimming streams, + Wandered my soul at will, + And saw such forms as haunt our loveliest dreams + And, waking, haunt us still; + Voices like music, smiles like sunny beams + Lost in a rippling rill. + + But ah! my soul saw one supremely fair, + One form the most divine, + One face enhaloed all with golden hair, + In beauty most benign, + Surpassing all the perfect beauty there: + Heart of my heart, 'twas thine! + + My soul went forth, but all grew strange and dim-- + Meadow and stream were gone-- + I heard a sound as of a far-off hymn + By night winds softly blown; + Then all around me seemed to sink and swim, + And I am here alone. + + + + + A Question. + + Pale Moon, whose tranquil orb resplendent sails + The ethereal main; thy curved prow + For ever braving the celestial gales, + Serene and slow: + + Myriads of Stars, that ever dot the blue + Great vault of heaven: eyes that keep + Eternal watch, unshaken, strong, and true, + Yet never sleep: + + Ye southern Zephyrs, redolent with balm + Of myrtle, orange, and the rose; + Blowing from islands where the fronded palm + In beauty grows: + + Wind of the North, whose trumpet voice can shake + The shuddering echoes of the cave; + Storm-born, blast-driven; thou, whose breath doth make + The mighty wave: + + Perpetual Fire, whose never-dying flame + Consumes the glowing heart of earth, + Until a wide destruction shall proclaim + A second birth: + + Tell me, oh! mighty concourse, have ye seen + In all this great infinity + Of worlds unborn and planets that have been, + A place for me? + + + + + Confession, Creed, and Prayer. + + Silent around me a cathedral dim, + Still throbbing with the echoes of a hymn, + Lifted its ghostly arches, great and grim; + + Slowly the worshippers had filed away; + Untenanted the vacant cloisters lay; + As even followed on the steps of day; + + But one remained, who bent his reverent head + Where graven figures slumber with the dead, + And spake with faltering accents, and he said: + + "Light, light, more light; Great Father, give me light; + I cannot see my way, so dark the night; + My finite heart shrinks from the infinite. + + "Anon the shadow lifts: my straining eyes + One moment see that which before me lies; + This fades, and new-born hope within me dies. + + "I looked for sunshine, yet there cometh rain; + My sweetest pleasure turneth into pain: + I would sink back to nothingness again. + + "Beliefs are but perpetual ideas, + The gospel worketh only on my fears, + In bitterness and sorrow, void of tears; + + "In one God I believe, eternally + Omnipotent and present, and that He + Rules Heaven and Hell, the earth, the sky, the sea. + + "As carnal life by carnal love is given, + So life divine by love divine is proven, + Of which the fountain head is God in Heaven. + + "That since each body is the fleshly home + Of something better, something not our own, + So God all faults but foulness will condone. + + "For I believe impurity is sin + Against the Spirit life that dwells within + Creating Father and created men; + + "That every soul is judged true and well + According to the light that on it fell: + No light, no judgment; strong light, Heaven or Hell. + + "All this and more; Great Father, I have heard + Of Thy dear Son; my heart expectant stirred + To welcome Him, confessing I had erred. + + "Nay, said humanity within me, nay, + I cannot grasp this mystery, so stay + Until I comprehend, and I obey: + + "I would, yet cannot--herein lies my grief. + Thy Son spake comfort to the dying thief, + So speak to me and help mine unbelief." + + Here the voice faltered, ceased. God, can it be + The morn has dawned on him and not on me? + Is this the Publican, I Pharisee? + + + + + To My Pipe. + + Others their nectar from the goblet sip; + I draw sweet solace from thine amber lip. + + "A feast of reason and a flow of soul" + Lurk in the perfumed vapors of thy bowl. + + Some scoff, and say I err from nature's rules-- + Tobacco's poison; but, friend, some are fools. + + If times are hard, no comrade like to thee; + If prosperous, thou'rt the priest of jollity. + + Browned in my service, silver-rimmed through age, + Thy smouldering fire, reflection's heritage; + + When the day comes, old friend, and I'm dead broke, + Then just one puff--we'll both go up in smoke. + + + + + Supposing. + + HE. + + Supposing that when we were wed, love, + And two were reduced into one, + That a hot-tempered word should be said, love, + And thoughtlessly mischief be done; + That you should be proud and offended. + And I should be heartless and cold: + Do you think that our peace would be ended, + The tale of our happiness told? + + Supposing that children should come, love, + It may be a girl and a boy, + And my heart should go forth to the one, love, + The other your pride and your joy; + Do you think that although so divided, + Yet we still in our plans could agree, + And always the best be provided, + For our dear ones by you and by me? + + Supposing that times were so bad, love, + That ends couldn't possibly meet-- + And I should get weary and sad, love, + While you were still hopeful and sweet; + Do you think you'd inspirit and cheer me, + And help me to weather the gale, + That your presence would ever be near me, + Your courage not falter or fail? + + + SHE. + + Supposing, you darling old stupid, + That all this should happen, and more, + Do you think that the youngster called Cupid + Would fly, and his reign would be o'er? + No; the bond of affection would stay, dear, + Independent of pocket or purse; + As a wife I would honor, obey, dear, + And love you "for better for worse." + + + + + The Widower's Lullaby. + + Dost remember, dear one, floating + On a moonlit silver sea; + Stars above us, depths beneath us, + Shadows covering you and me? + + Ever drifting, spellbound, silent, + Down a shimmering track of light; + While around the gloom was throbbing + With the mystery of night. + + Mute our lips; what need of speaking? + But our heart chords were as tense + As a bowstring stretched to breaking: + Every look was eloquence. + + Till my soul had burst its barriers, + And I told you my desire; + Told of love, undying passion, + Strong as ocean, pure as fire. + + You nor moved, nor sighed, nor answered, + Pale your cheek was as your dress, + But the golden lashes drooping + Gave response, and it was "Yes." + + That was five long years ago, dear, + Can you hear me as I speak? + For again I see the lashes + Falling on a pallid cheek. + + Still, and ah! so silent sleeping, + Motionless you take your rest; + I've your pledge of love beside me, + And your image in my breast. + + Just one golden head you gave me, + Little one with eyes of blue; + See, she nestles to my shoulder: + Darling, can you see us two? + + + + + LULLABY. + + Sleep, little one, sleep, + Safe and strong is thy father's arm, + He will guard thee from every harm, + Soothe thee with kisses soft and warm + Sleep, little one, sleep. + + Sleep, little one, sleep; + Close the lids on the wondering eyes, + Deep and blue as the summer skies. + Far in the west the sunset dies: + Sleep, little one, sleep. + + Sleep, little one, sleep, + Thou art more than the world to me, + All my life shall be spent for thee, + Till Nature comes with her lullaby: + Sleep, little one, sleep. + + + + + The Bird in the Night. + + Once long ago, a summer night in June, + When earth lay still beneath a waning moon. + And never sound or rustle in the wood + Save the dull thunder of a far-off flood, + Hurling itself in ruin to the deep + O'er a great gulf, I lay and strove to sleep. + The stars were out; I watched with aching eye + Their slow grand march across a cloudless sky, + But rest came not; when suddenly I heard, + Far in the slumbering forest, one lone bird + Give three sweet calls, as if in pure delight + To fling its soul in music through the night! + + Like a cool hand upon a fevered brow + Came that dear song; all fear had vanished now, + Steady my pulse, sunk in oblivion's arms + Forgetful as a child of past alarms. + Ye who have doubts--who is it has them not? + Ye who have fears, and troubled anxious thought, + When the storm lulls, will, if ye list aright, + Hear a bird singing in your darkest night. + + + + + Nescio at Felix. + + One night, with some unquietness and dread, + And fear of boding ill within my soul, + I fell to sleep; before me, like a scroll, + Lay bare the coming years. In them I read, + Clear writ as in a book or chart, the vast + Futurity, with all its joy and grief, + Success and failure, love, hate, unbelief + And faith, and that blind parting at the last; + Whereat my soul recoiled, nor could it bear + To muse on so much labor; better far + Not to have been, or else to be perchance + Like a dumb brute, existence without care + Or consciousness; but with the morning star + I woke, and thanked God for my ignorance. + + + + + To My Indian Pipe. + + Thou, with the black stone stem, what of the past? + Where are the cunning hands that fashioned thee? + Where are the stern brown lips that placidly + Drew comfort from thee 'neath the towering mast + Of some old pine; or, patient to the last, + Toiled over thee? Perchance thou wert a god + Worshipped and feared by those whose light feet trod + The dim green aisles of that cathedral vast: + But now thine incense rises, and I see + The still north land, and hear the otter dive, + The rapids calling, and the great trout leap; + And smoking here it seemeth like to me + As if some dead hands touched the hands alive, + In token of the fellowship we keep. + + + + + Advenit Amor. + + Silence again, sweetheart, the shadows grow, + I watch the white stars climb into the sky, + Hear the dull rapids' softened lullaby + In smothered thunder, brooding sweet and low; + Catch in the east the pallid silver glow + Of a new moon, that floating pure and clear + In perfect promise of the fuller sphere, + Dips this dim world in glory, mounting slow. + + Not always had the heavens such a charm; + Last year the rapids were not half so sweet, + The wind had not such rythmic melody, + Till, Love, love came, and fanned the cold 'heart warm, + Attuned to music chords still incomplete, + And set the whole night whispering of thee. + + + + + A Song of Life. + + It came through the fields of air, + It came through the silent night, + Borne low on a sigh of a western breeze, + Like the far-off voice of tumultuous seas, + In a tempest's waning might. + + I heard the wonderful song, + It made its home in my breast; + The music of all the world was there, + it hushed all murmur of pain or care, + A psalm of infinite rest. + + Ever more clear and pure, + Ever more strong and sweet; + Till some kindred chord in the outer air, + In response to the melody throbbing there, + Sang "come" to my restless feet. + + I heard the mysterious call, + I rose and followed it straight, + O'er many a mount, through many a dale, + Past blazing meadow and shady vale, + To the sunset's roseate gate. + + And never a halt or stop, + Till the song I could scarcely hear; + It had sunk to an echo, faint and dim, + Of some melodious wonderful hymn, + So I knew that the end was near. + + Lower and fainter yet, + And more imperceptible still, + As I journeyed on; but I climbed one day, + With courage that faltered, so steep the way, + The crest of a long, long hill. + + There, far as the eye could scan, + Was naught but the fathomless deep, + While down at the crag's great base the waves + Crept in and out of the blind black caves + And whispered ever of sleep. + + I looked at my hair, 'twas white; + My hands were bony and long; + The years of my life had vanished and fled, + Though they seemed but days that had quickly sped + In pursuit of that fugitive song. + + Then out of the ocean's heart + Came swelling a grand refrain, + And through it there pulsed an angelic voice: + "Now weary mortal, rejoice, rejoice, + Thou hast come to thy rest again; + + "The song that stole into thy breast + Was the song of an earthly love, + It was but an echo, faint, yet true, + Of that mightier song that is pealing through + The musical halls above." + + Then prone on the storm-swept bluff, + My face to a golden sky, + The breezes played with my toil-stained dress, + And I waited and prayed in my loneliness + To taste of the worst, and die. + + So out of the void, a sound + From the vast dim space, a breath + That fanned the flickering flame of life + Till it flared, went out, and ended the strife-- + I slept, and the sleep was Death. + + + + + Voices. + + My heart within me stirred with a nameless trouble and dread + Of evil that should betide, and a voice in my bosom said: + "What pause from this weary toiling, what end to this endless strife? + The day bringeth naught but labor, and death follows hard upon life; + Ever I see the false one triumphing over the true, + The foul outbalance the fair, the many oppressed by the few. + Answer me, mortal master, after the battle is fought, + Six feet of earth for a couch, mayhap a stone, then--what?" + How could I answer my heart? When suddenly in my breast + There fell a hush as of a wind sinking at eve to rest; + The voice within me was stilled, and I felt its murmuring cease, + For somewhere out of infinity an angel had whispered "Peace." + + + + + Fifty Years Hence. + + Again 'twas night, and on the wave + The moon in silver lay; + Vanished had all the petty cares + And troubles of the day. + + No sound in all the wide expanse, + No rustle in the wood, + Save when some evening zephyr stirred + In whispers on the flood. + + Breathless and motionless she stood, + Unquestioningly dumb, + Twas as a world were waiting there-- + Waiting for God to come. + + Then back, through long dead years, her heart + Winged its reflective flight, + To ponder childhood's days again, + To muse on past delight. + + A mist came o'er her eyes, her gaze + Had spanned the wide gulf o'er, + Old voices spake, old scenes recurred, + Old friendship lived once more. + + Serene the skies, no fear, no care, + No tempest and no storm, + Wild birds and sunshine in the air, + And south winds sweet and warm. + + Ah! perfect youth, ah! perfect life, + Free as a cloud above, + Ah! fount whence spring the purest hopes, + Whence flows the purest love. + + For if ambition's wildest dreams + Success should crown, in truth + The cup she holds were tasteless still + Beside the wine of youth. + + All silent now, ah! for the power + Again those tales to tell, + To wake afresh those sleeping chords + That memory loves so well. + + But, echoing clear and low, those notes, + That song, we still may hear, + For faintly yet its music floats + In old age atmosphere. + + + + + Farewell to the White Canoe. + + The summer is dead, for the air is chill, + And winter is nigh again; + The maples ablaze on each ruddy hill + Are dripping with crimson rain; + Black dusk comes hard on the steps or day, + The breath of the south that blew, + Has turned to the north, and bids me say + Farewell to the White Canoe. + + How wildly she leapt at each measured stroke, + And mounted the curling swell; + How the white foam hung at her bows like smoke, + When the great waves rose and fell; + No terror for her could a tempest find, + No wrath in a frowning sky; + Her birth was the union of sea and wind, + Her life is a mystery. + + She swam like a ghost through the ghostly night, + That bowed but to her as queen; + She sped like a wraith in the silver light. + Or a spirit of things unseen: + As a leaf in the autumn she sank to sleep, + By babbling ripples caressed, + And lay in the arms of the cradling deep, + On the river's responsive breast. + + The summer is dead, and alas! no more + May we wander, alone and free, + By still deep pools and the shadowy shore, + And the rapids' soft lullaby; + Farewell, farewell, to the peace that lies + In that solitude deep and blue; + An answering voice from the great stream sighs, + "Farewell to the White Canoe." + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Canoe, by Alan Sullivan + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40490 *** |