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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: New Poems + and Variant Readings + + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + + + +Release Date: February 12, 2013 [eBook #441] +[This file was first posted on January 6, 1996] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1918 Chatto & Windus edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>New Poems<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AND VARIANT READINGS</span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +CHATTO & WINDUS<br /> +1918</p> +<h2><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>PREFACE</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">All</span> Stevensonians owe a debt of +gratitude to the Bibliophile Society of Boston for having +discovered the following poems and given them light in a +privately printed edition, thus making them known, in fact, to +the world at large. Otherwise they would have remained +scattered and hidden indefinitely in the hands of various +collectors. They will be found extraordinarily interesting +in their self-revelation, and some, indeed, are so intimate and +personal that one understands why Stevenson withheld them from +all eyes save his own. The love-poems in particular, though +they are of very unequal merit, possess in common a really +affecting sincerity. That Stevenson should have preserved +these poems through all the vicissitudes of his wandering life +shows how dearly he must have valued them; and shows, too, I +think, beyond any contradiction, that he meant they should be +ultimately published.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">LLOYD OSBOURNE.</p> +<h2><a name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xi</span>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">PRAYER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LO! IN THINE HONEST EYES I +READ</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THOUGH DEEP INDIFFERENCE SHOULD +DROWSE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MY HEART, WHEN FIRST THE BLACKBIRD +SINGS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page3">3</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I DREAMED OF FOREST ALLEYS +FAIR</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page4">4</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. MARTIN’S +SUMMER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page6">6</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DEDICATION</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page7">7</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE OLD CHIMÆRAS, OLD +RECEIPTS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page8">8</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">PRELUDE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE VANQUISHED KNIGHT</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO THE COMMISSIONERS OF NORTHERN +LIGHTS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE RELIC TAKEN, WHAT AVAILS THE +SHRINE?</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ABOUT THE SHELTERED GARDEN +GROUND</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page14">14</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AFTER READING “ANTONY AND +CLEOPATRA”</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page15">15</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I KNOW NOT HOW, BUT AS I +COUNT</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page15">15</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SPRING SONG</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page16">16</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE SUMMER SUN SHONE ROUND +ME</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page16">16</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">YOU LOOKED SO TEMPTING IN THE +PEW</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page17">17</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LOVE’S +VICISSITUDES</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DUDDINGSTONE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">STOUT MARCHES LEAD TO CERTAIN +ENDS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page20">20</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AWAY WITH FUNERAL MUSIC</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page20">20</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO SYDNEY</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page21">21</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">HAD I THE POWER THAT HAVE THE +WILL</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page23">23</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">O DULL COLD NORTHERN SKY</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page24">24</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">APOLOGETIC POSTSCRIPT OF A YEAR +LATER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO MARCUS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page26">26</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO OTTILIE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page27">27</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THIS GLOOMY NORTHERN DAY</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page28">28</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE WIND IS WITHOUT THERE AND HOWLS +IN THE TREES</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page29">29</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">A VALENTINE’S SONG</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">HAIL! CHILDISH SLAVES OF +SOCIAL RULES</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page34">34</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SWALLOWS TRAVEL TO AND +FRO</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page36">36</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xii</span><span class="GutSmall">TO MESDAMES ZASSETSKY AND +GARSCHINE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page37">37</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO MADAME GARSCHINE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page39">39</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MUSIC AT THE VILLA +MARINA</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page39">39</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FEAR NOT, DEAR FRIEND, BUT FREELY +LIVE YOUR DAYS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page40">40</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LET LOVE GO, IF GO SHE +WILL</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page41">41</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I DO NOT FEAR TO OWN ME +KIN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page42">42</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I AM LIKE ONE THAT FOR LONG DAYS +HAD SATE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page44">44</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">VOLUNTARY</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page45">45</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ON NOW, ALTHOUGH THE YEAR BE +DONE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page47">47</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">IN THE GREEN AND GALLANT +SPRING</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page47">47</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DEATH, TO THE DEAD FOR +EVERMORE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page48">48</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO CHARLES BAXTER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page49">49</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I WHO ALL THE WINTER +THROUGH</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LOVE, WHAT IS LOVE?</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SOON OUR FRIENDS PERISH</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AS ONE WHO HAVING WANDERED ALL +NIGHT LONG</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">STRANGE ARE THE WAYS OF +MEN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page55">55</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE WIND BLEW SHRILL AND +SMART</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page56">56</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MAN SAILS THE DEEP +AWHILE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page57">57</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE COCK’S CLEAR VOICE INTO +THE CLEARER AIR</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page58">58</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">NOW WHEN THE NUMBER OF MY +YEARS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page59">59</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">WHAT MAN MAY LEARN, WHAT MAN MAY +DO</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page60">60</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SMALL IS THE TRUST WHEN LOVE IS +GREEN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page61">61</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">KNOW YOU THE RIVER NEAR TO +GREZ</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page62">62</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">IT’S FORTH ACROSS THE ROARING +FOAM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page63">63</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AN ENGLISH BREEZE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AS IN THEIR FLIGHT THE BIRDS OF +SONG</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page66">66</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE PIPER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page67">67</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO MRS. MACMARLAND</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page58">58</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO MISS CORNISH</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page69">69</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TALES OF ARABIA</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page71">71</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">BEHOLD, AS GOBLINS DARK OF +MIEN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page72">72</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">STILL I LOVE TO RHYME</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page73">73</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LONG TIME I LAY IN LITTLE +EASE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page74">74</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FLOWER GOD, GOD OF THE +SPRING</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">COME, MY BELOVED, HEAR FROM +ME</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page76">76</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SINCE YEARS AGO FOR +EVERMORE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page77">77</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ENVOY FOR “A CHILD’S +GARDEN OF VERSES”</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page78">78</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FOR RICHMOND’S GARDEN +WALL</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xiii</span><span class="GutSmall">HAIL, GUEST, AND ENTER +FREELY!</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LO, NOW, MY GUEST</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SO LIVE, SO LOVE, SO USE THAT +FRAGILE HOUR</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD SE IPSUM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">BEFORE THIS LITTLE GIFT WAS +COME</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">GO, LITTLE BOOK—THE ANCIENT +PHRASE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page83">83</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MY LOVE WAS WARM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page84">84</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DEDICATORY POEM FOR +“UNDERWOODS”</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page85">85</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FAREWELL</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page86">86</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE FAR-FARERS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">COME, MY LITTLE CHILDREN, HERE ARE +SONGS FOR YOU</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">HOME FROM THE DAISIED +MEADOWS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page88">88</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">EARLY IN THE MORNING I HEAR ON YOUR +PIANO</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page88">88</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FAIR ISLE AT SEA</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page89">89</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LOUD AND LOW IN THE +CHIMNEY</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page89">89</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I LOVE TO BE WARM BY THE RED +FIRESIDE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page90">90</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AT LAST SHE COMES</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page90">90</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MINE EYES WERE SWIFT TO KNOW +THEE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page90">90</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FIXED IS THE DOOM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page91">91</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MEN ARE HEAVEN’S +PIERS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page92">92</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE ANGLER ROSE, HE TOOK HIS +ROD</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page93">93</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SPRING CAROL</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page94">94</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO WHAT SHALL I COMPARE +HER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page95">95</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">WHEN THE SUN COMES AFTER +RAIN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page96">96</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LATE, O MILLER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page97">97</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO FRIENDS AT HOME</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page97">97</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I, WHOM APOLLO SOMETIME +VISITED</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page98">98</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TEMPEST TOSSED AND SORE +AFFLICTED</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page98">98</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">VARIANT FORM OF THE PRECEDING +POEM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page99">99</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">I NOW, O FRIEND, WHOM NOISELESSLY +THE SNOWS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page100">100</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SINCE THOU HAST GIVEN ME THIS GOOD +HOPE, O GOD</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page103">103</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">GOD GAVE TO ME A CHILD IN +PART</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page104">104</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">OVER THE LAND IS APRIL</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LIGHT AS THE LINNET ON MY WAY I +START</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page106">106</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">COMIC, HERE IS ADIEU TO THE +CITY</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page106">106</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">IT BLOWS A SNOWING GALE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">NE SIT ANCILLÆ TIBI AMOR +PUDOR</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">TO ALL THAT LOVE THE FAR AND +BLUE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THOU STRAINEST THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN +FERN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xiv</span><span class="GutSmall">TO ROSABELLE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">NOW BARE TO THE BEHOLDER’S +EYE</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE BOUR-TREE DEN</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page114">114</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SONNETS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page118">118</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">FRAGMENTS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page123">123</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AIR OF DIABELLI’S</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page128">128</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">EPITAPHIUM EROTII</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page132">132</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DE M. ANTONIO</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page133">133</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD MAGISTRUM LUDI</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page133">133</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD NEPOTEM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page134">134</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">IN CHARIDEMUM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page135">135</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DE LIGURRA</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page135">135</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">IN LUPUM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD QUINTILIANUM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page137">137</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DE HORTIS JULII +MARTIALIS</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page137">137</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD MARTIALEM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page139">139</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">IN MAXIMUM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page139">139</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD OLUM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page140">140</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DE CŒNATIONE +MICÆ</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page140">140</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">DE EROTIO PUELLA</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page141">141</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">AD PISCATOREM</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page141">141</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>PRAYER</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">ask</span> good things +that I detest,<br /> + With speeches fair;<br /> +Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my breast,<br /> + But hear my prayer.</p> +<p class="poetry">I say ill things I would not say—<br /> + Things unaware:<br /> +Regard my breast, Lord, in Thy day,<br /> + And not my prayer.</p> +<p class="poetry">My heart is evil in Thy sight:<br /> + My good thoughts flee:<br /> +O Lord, I cannot wish aright—<br /> + Wish Thou for me.</p> +<p class="poetry">O bend my words and acts to Thee,<br /> + However ill,<br /> +That I, whate’er I say or be,<br /> + May serve Thee still.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +2</span>O let my thoughts abide in Thee<br /> + Lest I should fall:<br /> +Show me Thyself in all I see,<br /> + Thou Lord of all.</p> +<h2>LO! IN THINE HONEST EYES I READ</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Lo</span>! in thine honest +eyes I read<br /> +The auspicious beacon that shall lead,<br /> +After long sailing in deep seas,<br /> +To quiet havens in June ease.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thy voice sings like an inland bird<br /> +First by the seaworn sailor heard;<br /> +And like road sheltered from life’s sea<br /> +Thine honest heart is unto me.</p> +<h2>THOUGH DEEP INDIFFERENCE SHOULD DROWSE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Though</span> deep +indifference should drowse<br /> +The sluggish life beneath my brows,<br /> +And all the external things I see<br /> +Grow snow-showers in the street to me,<br /> +Yet inmost in my stormy sense<br /> +Thy looks shall be an influence.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +3</span>Though other loves may come and go<br /> +And long years sever us below,<br /> +Shall the thin ice that grows above<br /> +Freeze the deep centre-well of love?<br /> +No, still below light amours, thou<br /> +Shalt rule me as thou rul’st me now.</p> +<p class="poetry">Year following year shall only set<br /> +Fresh gems upon thy coronet;<br /> +And Time, grown lover, shall delight<br /> +To beautify thee in my sight;<br /> +And thou shalt ever rule in me<br /> +Crowned with the light of memory.</p> +<h2>MY HEART, WHEN FIRST THE BLACK-BIRD SINGS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">My</span> heart, when first +the blackbird sings,<br /> + My heart drinks in the song:<br /> +Cool pleasure fills my bosom through<br /> + And spreads each nerve along.</p> +<p class="poetry">My bosom eddies quietly,<br /> + My heart is stirred and cool<br /> +As when a wind-moved briar sweeps<br /> + A stone into a pool</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +4</span>But unto thee, when thee I meet,<br /> + My pulses thicken fast,<br /> +As when the maddened lake grows black<br /> + And ruffles in the blast.</p> +<h2>I DREAMED OF FOREST ALLEYS FAIR</h2> +<h3>I.</h3> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">dreamed</span> of forest +alleys fair<br /> + And fields of gray-flowered grass,<br /> +Where by the yellow summer moon<br /> + My Jenny seemed to pass.</p> +<p class="poetry">I dreamed the yellow summer moon,<br /> + Behind a cedar wood,<br /> +Lay white on fields of rippling grass<br /> + Where I and Jenny stood.</p> +<p class="poetry">I dreamed—but fallen through my dream,<br +/> + In a rainy land I lie<br /> +Where wan wet morning crowns the hills<br /> + Of grim reality.</p> +<h3>II.</h3> +<p class="poetry">I am as one that keeps awake<br /> + All night in the month of June,<br /> +That lies awake in bed to watch<br /> + The trees and great white moon.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>For memories of love are more<br /> + Than the white moon there above,<br /> +And dearer than quiet moonshine<br /> + Are the thoughts of her I love.</p> +<h3>III.</h3> +<p class="poetry">Last night I lingered long without<br /> + My last of loves to see.<br /> +Alas! the moon-white window-panes<br /> + Stared blindly back on me.</p> +<p class="poetry">To-day I hold her very hand,<br /> + Her very waist embrace—<br /> +Like clouds across a pool, I read<br /> + Her thoughts upon her face.</p> +<p class="poetry">And yet, as now, through her clear eyes<br /> + I seek the inner shrine—<br /> +I stoop to read her virgin heart<br /> + In doubt if it be mine—</p> +<p class="poetry">O looking long and fondly thus,<br /> + What vision should I see?<br /> +No vision, but my own white face<br /> + That grins and mimics me.</p> +<h3><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>IV.</h3> +<p class="poetry">Once more upon the same old seat<br /> + In the same sunshiny weather,<br /> +The elm-trees’ shadows at their feet<br /> + And foliage move together.</p> +<p class="poetry">The shadows shift upon the grass,<br /> + The dial point creeps on;<br /> +The clear sun shines, the loiterers pass,<br /> + As then they passed and shone.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now deep sleep is on my heart,<br /> + Deep sleep and perfect rest.<br /> +Hope’s flutterings now disturb no more<br /> + The quiet of my breast.</p> +<h2>ST. MARTIN’S SUMMER</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As</span> swallows turning +backward<br /> + When half-way o’er the sea,<br /> +At one word’s trumpet summons<br /> + They came again to me—<br /> +The hopes I had forgotten<br /> + Came back again to me.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +7</span>I know not which to credit,<br /> + O lady of my heart!<br /> +Your eyes that bade me linger,<br /> + Your words that bade us part—<br /> +I know not which to credit,<br /> + My reason or my heart.</p> +<p class="poetry">But be my hopes rewarded,<br /> + Or be they but in vain,<br /> +I have dreamed a golden vision,<br /> + I have gathered in the grain—<br /> +I have dreamed a golden vision,<br /> + I have not lived in vain.</p> +<h2>DEDICATION</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">My</span> first gift and my +last, to you<br /> +I dedicate this fascicle of songs—<br /> +The only wealth I have:<br /> +Just as they are, to you.</p> +<p class="poetry">I speak the truth in soberness, and say<br /> +I had rather bring a light to your clear eyes,<br /> +Had rather hear you praise<br /> +This bosomful of songs</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>Than that the whole, hard world with one consent,<br /> +In one continuous chorus of applause<br /> +Poured forth for me and mine<br /> +The homage of ripe praise.</p> +<p class="poetry">I write the finis here against my love,<br /> +This is my love’s last epitaph and tomb.<br /> +Here the road forks, and I<br /> +Go my way, far from yours.</p> +<h2>THE OLD CHIMÆRAS, OLD RECEIPTS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> old +Chimæras, old receipts<br /> + For making “happy land,”<br /> +The old political beliefs<br /> + Swam close before my hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">The grand old communistic myths<br /> + In a middle state of grace,<br /> +Quite dead, but not yet gone to Hell,<br /> + And walking for a space,</p> +<p class="poetry">Quite dead, and looking it, and yet<br /> + All eagerness to show<br /> +The Social-Contract forgeries<br /> + By Chatterton—Rousseau—</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +9</span>A hundred such as these I tried,<br /> + And hundreds after that,<br /> +I fitted Social Theories<br /> + As one would fit a hat!</p> +<p class="poetry">Full many a marsh-fire lured me on,<br /> + I reached at many a star,<br /> +I reached and grasped them and behold—<br /> + The stump of a cigar!</p> +<p class="poetry">All through the sultry sweltering day<br /> + The sweat ran down my brow,<br /> +The still plains heard my distant strokes<br /> + That have been silenced now.</p> +<p class="poetry">This way and that, now up, now down,<br /> + I hailed full many a blow.<br /> +Alas! beneath my weary arm<br /> + The thicket seemed to grow.</p> +<p class="poetry">I take the lesson, wipe my brow<br /> + And throw my axe aside,<br /> +And, sorely wearied, I go home<br /> + In the tranquil eventide.</p> +<p class="poetry">And soon the rising moon, that lights<br /> + The eve of my defeat,<br /> +Shall see me sitting as of yore<br /> + By my old master’s feet.</p> +<h2><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>PRELUDE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">By</span> sunny +market-place and street<br /> +Wherever I go my drum I beat,<br /> +And wherever I go in my coat of red<br /> +The ribbons flutter about my head.</p> +<p class="poetry">I seek recruits for wars to come—<br /> +For slaughterless wars I beat the drum,<br /> +And the shilling I give to each new ally<br /> +Is hope to live and courage to die.</p> +<p class="poetry">I know that new recruits shall come<br /> +Wherever I beat the sounding drum,<br /> +Till the roar of the march by country and town<br /> +Shall shake the tottering Dagons down.</p> +<p class="poetry">For I was objectless as they<br /> +And loitering idly day by day;<br /> +But whenever I heard the recruiters come,<br /> +I left my all to follow the drum.</p> +<h2><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>THE +VANQUISHED KNIGHT</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">have</span> left all upon +the shameful field,<br /> + Honour and Hope, my God, and all but life;<br /> +Spurless, with sword reversed and dinted shield,<br /> + Degraded and disgraced, I leave the strife.</p> +<p class="poetry">From him that hath not, shall there not be +taken<br /> + E’en that he hath, when he deserts the +strife?<br /> +Life left by all life’s benefits forsaken,<br /> + O keep the promise, Lord, and take the life.</p> +<h2>TO THE COMMISSIONERS OF NORTHERN LIGHTS</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">send</span> to you, +commissioners,<br /> +A paper that may please ye, sirs<br /> +(For troth they say it might be worse<br /> + An’ I believe’t)<br /> +And on your business lay my curse<br /> + Before I leav’t.</p> +<p class="poetry">I thocht I’d serve wi’ you, sirs, +yince,<br /> +But I’ve thocht better of it since;<br /> +The maitter I will nowise mince,<br /> + But tell ye true:<br /> +I’ll service wi’ some ither prince,<br /> + An’ no wi’ you.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>I’ve no been very deep, ye’ll think,<br /> +Cam’ delicately to the brink<br /> +An’ when the water gart me shrink<br /> + Straucht took the rue,<br /> +An’ didna stoop my fill to drink—<br /> + I own it true.</p> +<p class="poetry">I kent on cape and isle, a light<br /> +Burnt fair an’ clearly ilka night;<br /> +But at the service I took fright,<br /> + As sune’s I saw,<br /> +An’ being still a neophite<br /> + Gaed straucht awa’.</p> +<p class="poetry">Anither course I now begin,<br /> +The weeg I’ll cairry for my sin,<br /> +The court my voice shall echo in,<br /> + An’—wha can +tell?—<br /> +Some ither day I may be yin<br /> + O’ you mysel’.</p> +<h2><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>THE +RELIC TAKEN, WHAT AVAILS THE SHRINE?</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> relic taken, +what avails the shrine?<br /> +The locket, pictureless? O heart of mine,<br /> +Art thou not worse than that,<br /> +Still warm, a vacant nest where love once sat?</p> +<p class="poetry">Her image nestled closer at my heart<br /> +Than cherished memories, healed every smart<br /> +And warmed it more than wine<br /> +Or the full summer sun in noon-day shine.</p> +<p class="poetry">This was the little weather gleam that lit<br +/> +The cloudy promontories—the real charm was<br /> +That gilded hills and woods<br /> +And walked beside me thro’ the solitudes.</p> +<p class="poetry">The sun is set. My heart is widowed +now<br /> +Of that companion-thought. Alone I plough<br /> +The seas of life, and trace<br /> +A separate furrow far from her and grace.</p> +<h2><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>ABOUT +THE SHELTERED GARDEN GROUND</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">About</span> the sheltered +garden ground<br /> + The trees stand strangely still.<br /> +The vale ne’er seemed so deep before,<br /> + Nor yet so high the hill.</p> +<p class="poetry">An awful sense of quietness,<br /> + A fulness of repose,<br /> +Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns,<br /> + The silent garden rows.</p> +<p class="poetry">As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse<br /> + Heard far across a plain,<br /> +A nearer knowledge of great thoughts<br /> + Thrills vaguely through my brain.</p> +<p class="poetry">I lean my head upon my arm,<br /> + My heart’s too full to think;<br /> +Like the roar of seas, upon my heart<br /> + Doth the morning stillness sink.</p> +<h2><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>AFTER +READING “ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA”</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As</span> when the hunt by +holt and field<br /> + Drives on with horn and strife,<br /> +Hunger of hopeless things pursues<br /> + Our spirits throughout life.</p> +<p class="poetry">The sea’s roar fills us aching full<br /> + Of objectless desire—<br /> +The sea’s roar, and the white moon-shine,<br /> + And the reddening of the fire.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who talks to me of reason now?<br /> + It would be more delight<br /> +To have died in Cleopatra’s arms<br /> + Than be alive to-night.</p> +<h2>I KNOW NOT HOW, BUT AS I COUNT</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">know</span> not how, but +as I count<br /> + The beads of former years,<br /> +Old laughter catches in my throat<br /> + With the very feel of tears.</p> +<h2><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>SPRING +SONG</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> air was full of +sun and birds,<br /> + The fresh air sparkled clearly.<br /> +Remembrance wakened in my heart<br /> + And I knew I loved her dearly.</p> +<p class="poetry">The fallows and the leafless trees<br /> + And all my spirit tingled.<br /> +My earliest thought of love, and Spring’s<br /> + First puff of perfume mingled.</p> +<p class="poetry">In my still heart the thoughts awoke,<br /> + Came lone by lone together—<br /> +Say, birds and Sun and Spring, is Love<br /> + A mere affair of weather?</p> +<h2>THE SUMMER SUN SHONE ROUND ME</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> summer sun shone +round me,<br /> + The folded valley lay<br /> +In a stream of sun and odour,<br /> + That sultry summer day.</p> +<p class="poetry">The tall trees stood in the sunlight<br /> + As still as still could be,<br /> +But the deep grass sighed and rustled<br /> + And bowed and beckoned me.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>The deep grass moved and whispered<br /> + And bowed and brushed my face.<br /> +It whispered in the sunshine:<br /> + “The winter comes apace.”</p> +<h2>YOU LOOKED SO TEMPTING IN THE PEW</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> looked so +tempting in the pew,<br /> + You looked so sly and calm—<br /> +My trembling fingers played with yours<br /> + As both looked out the Psalm.</p> +<p class="poetry">Your heart beat hard against my arm,<br /> + My foot to yours was set,<br /> +Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek<br /> + Whenever they two met.</p> +<p class="poetry">O little, little we hearkened, dear,<br /> + And little, little cared,<br /> +Although the parson sermonised,<br /> + The congregation stared.</p> +<h2><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>LOVE’S VICISSITUDES</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As</span> Love and Hope +together<br /> + Walk by me for a while,<br /> +Link-armed the ways they travel<br /> + For many a pleasant mile—<br /> +Link-armed and dumb they travel,<br /> + They sing not, but they smile.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hope leaving, Love commences<br /> + To practise on the lute;<br /> +And as he sings and travels<br /> + With lingering, laggard foot,<br /> +Despair plays obligato<br /> + The sentimental flute.</p> +<p class="poetry">Until in singing garments<br /> + Comes royally, at call—<br /> +Comes limber-hipped Indiff’rence<br /> + Free stepping, straight and tall—<br /> +Comes singing and lamenting,<br /> + The sweetest pipe of all.</p> +<h2>DUDDINGSTONE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">With</span> caws and +chirrupings, the woods<br /> + In this thin sun rejoice.<br /> +The Psalm seems but the little kirk<br /> + That sings with its own voice.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +19</span>The cloud-rifts share their amber light<br /> + With the surface of the mere—<br /> +I think the very stones are glad<br /> + To feel each other near.</p> +<p class="poetry">Once more my whole heart leaps and swells<br /> + And gushes o’er with glee;<br /> +The fingers of the sun and shade<br /> + Touch music stops in me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now fancy paints that bygone day<br /> + When you were here, my fair—<br /> +The whole lake rang with rapid skates<br /> + In the windless winter air.</p> +<p class="poetry">You leaned to me, I leaned to you,<br /> + Our course was smooth as flight—<br /> +We steered—a heel-touch to the left,<br /> + A heel-touch to the right.</p> +<p class="poetry">We swung our way through flying men,<br /> + Your hand lay fast in mine:<br /> +We saw the shifting crowd dispart,<br /> + The level ice-reach shine.</p> +<p class="poetry">I swear by yon swan-travelled lake,<br /> + By yon calm hill above,<br /> +I swear had we been drowned that day<br /> + We had been drowned in love.</p> +<h2><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>STOUT +MARCHES LEAD TO CERTAIN ENDS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Stout</span> marches lead +to certain ends,<br /> +We seek no Holy Grail, my friends—<br /> +That dawn should find us every day<br /> +Some fraction farther on our way.</p> +<p class="poetry">The dumb lands sleep from east to west,<br /> +They stretch and turn and take their rest.<br /> +The cock has crown in the steading-yard,<br /> +But priest and people slumber hard.</p> +<p class="poetry">We two are early forth, and hear<br /> +The nations snoring far and near.<br /> +So peacefully their rest they take,<br /> +It seems we are the first awake!</p> +<p class="poetry">—Strong heart! this is no royal way,<br +/> +A thousand cross-roads seek the day;<br /> +And, hid from us, to left and right,<br /> +A thousand seekers seek the light.</p> +<h2>AWAY WITH FUNERAL MUSIC</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Away</span> with funeral +music—set<br /> + The pipe to powerful lips—<br /> +The cup of life’s for him that drinks<br /> + And not for him that sips.</p> +<h2><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>TO +SYDNEY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Not</span> thine where +marble-still and white<br /> +Old statues share the tempered light<br /> +And mock the uneven modern flight,<br /> + But in the stream<br /> +Of daily sorrow and delight<br /> + To seek a theme.</p> +<p class="poetry">I too, O friend, have steeled my heart<br /> +Boldly to choose the better part,<br /> +To leave the beaten ways of art,<br /> + And wholly free<br /> +To dare, beyond the scanty chart,<br /> + The deeper sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">All vain restrictions left behind,<br /> +Frail bark! I loose my anchored mind<br /> +And large, before the prosperous wind<br /> + Desert the strand—<br /> +A new Columbus sworn to find<br /> + The morning land.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor too ambitious, friend. To thee<br /> +I own my weakness. Not for me<br /> +To sing the enfranchised nations’ glee,<br /> + Or count the cost<br /> +Of warships foundered far at sea<br /> + And battles lost.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span>High on the far-seen, sunny hills,<br /> +Morning-content my bosom fills;<br /> +Well-pleased, I trace the wandering rills<br /> + And learn their birth.<br /> +Far off, the clash of sovereign wills<br /> + May shake the earth.</p> +<p class="poetry">The nimble circuit of the wheel,<br /> +The uncertain poise of merchant weal,<br /> +Heaven of famine, fire and steel<br /> + When nations fall;<br /> +These, heedful, from afar I feel—<br /> + I mark them all.</p> +<p class="poetry">But not, my friend, not these I sing,<br /> +My voice shall fill a narrower ring.<br /> +Tired souls, that flag upon the wing,<br /> + I seek to cheer:<br /> +Brave wines to strengthen hope I bring,<br /> + Life’s cantineer!</p> +<p class="poetry">Some song that shall be suppling oil<br /> +To weary muscles strained with toil,<br /> +Shall hearten for the daily moil,<br /> + Or widely read<br /> +Make sweet for him that tills the soil<br /> + His daily bread.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>Such songs in my flushed hours I dream<br /> +(High thought) instead of armour gleam<br /> +Or warrior cantos ream by ream<br /> + To load the shelves—<br /> +Songs with a lilt of words, that seem<br /> + To sing themselves.</p> +<h2>HAD I THE POWER THAT HAVE THE WILL</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Had</span> I the power that +have the will,<br /> + The enfeebled will—a modern curse—<br /> +This book of mine should blossom still<br /> + A perfect garden-ground of verse.</p> +<p class="poetry">White placid marble gods should keep<br /> + Good watch in every shadowy lawn;<br /> +And from clean, easy-breathing sleep<br /> + The birds should waken me at dawn.</p> +<p class="poetry">—A fairy garden;—none the less<br +/> + Throughout these gracious paths of mine<br /> +All day there should be free access<br /> + For stricken hearts and lives that pine;</p> +<p class="poetry">And by the folded lawns all day—<br /> + No idle gods for such a land—<br /> +All active Love should take its way<br /> + With active Labour hand in hand.</p> +<h2><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>O DULL +COLD NORTHERN SKY</h2> +<p class="poetry">O <span class="smcap">dull</span> cold northern +sky,<br /> + O brawling sabbath bells,<br /> +O feebly twittering Autumn bird that tells<br /> + The year is like to die!</p> +<p class="poetry">O still, spoiled trees, O city ways,<br /> + O sun desired in vain,<br /> +O dread presentiment of coming rain<br /> + That cloys the sullen days!</p> +<p class="poetry">Thee, heart of mine, I greet.<br /> + In what hard mountain pass<br /> +Striv’st thou? In what importunate morass<br /> + Sink now thy weary feet?</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou run’st a hopeless race<br /> + To win despair. No crown<br /> +Awaits success, but leaden gods look down<br /> + On thee, with evil face.</p> +<p class="poetry">And those that would befriend<br /> + And cherish thy defeat,<br /> +With angry welcome shall turn sour the sweet<br /> + Home-coming of the end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yea, those that offer praise<br /> + To idleness, shall yet<br /> +Insult thee, coming glorious in the sweat<br /> + Of honourable ways.</p> +<h2><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>APOLOGETIC POSTSCRIPT OF A YEAR LATER</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">If</span> you see this +song, my dear,<br /> + And last year’s toast,<br /> +I’m confoundedly in fear<br /> +You’ll be serious and severe<br /> + About the boast.</p> +<p class="poetry">Blame not that I sought such aid<br /> + To cure regret.<br /> +I was then so lowly laid<br /> +I used all the Gasconnade<br /> + That I could get.</p> +<p class="poetry">Being snubbed is somewhat smart,<br /> + Believe, my sweet;<br /> +And I needed all my art<br /> +To restore my broken heart<br /> + To its conceit.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come and smile, dear, and forget<br /> + I boasted so,<br /> +I apologise—regret—<br /> +It was all a jest;—and—yet—<br /> + I do not know.</p> +<h2><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>TO +MARCUS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> have been far, +and I<br /> + Been farther yet,<br /> + Since last, in foul or fair<br /> + An impecunious pair,<br /> +Below this northern sky<br /> + Of ours, we met.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now winter night shall see<br /> + Again us two,<br /> + While howls the tempest higher,<br /> + Sit warmly by the fire<br /> +And dream and plan, as we<br /> + Were wont to do.</p> +<p class="poetry">And, hand in hand, at large<br /> + Our thoughts shall walk<br /> + While storm and gusty rain,<br /> + Again and yet again,<br /> +Shall drive their noisy charge<br /> + Across the talk.</p> +<p class="poetry">The pleasant future still<br /> + Shall smile to me,<br /> + And hope with wooing hands<br /> + Wave on to fairy lands<br /> +All over dale and hill<br /> + And earth and sea.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +27</span>And you who doubt the sky<br /> + And fear the sun—<br /> + You—Christian with the pack—<br /> + You shall not wander back<br /> +For I am Hopeful—I<br /> + Will cheer you on.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come—where the great have trod,<br /> + The great shall lead—<br /> + Come, elbow through the press,<br /> + Pluck Fortune by the dress—<br /> +By God, we must—by God,<br /> + We shall succeed.</p> +<h2>TO OTTILIE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> remember, I +suppose,<br /> +How the August sun arose,<br /> + And how his face<br /> +Woke to trill and carolette<br /> +All the cages that were set<br /> + About the place.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the tender morning light<br /> +All around lay strange and bright<br /> + And still and sweet,<br /> +And the gray doves unafraid<br /> +Went their morning promenade<br /> + Along the street.</p> +<h2><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>THIS +GLOOMY NORTHERN DAY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">This</span> gloomy northern +day,<br /> + Or this yet gloomier night,<br /> + Has moved a something high<br /> + In my cold heart; and I,<br /> +That do not often pray,<br /> + Would pray to-night.</p> +<p class="poetry">And first on Thee I call<br /> + For bread, O God of might!<br /> + Enough of bread for all,—<br +/> + That through the famished town<br +/> +Cold hunger may lie down<br /> + With none to-night.</p> +<p class="poetry">I pray for hope no less,<br /> + Strong-sinewed hope, O Lord,<br /> + That to the struggling young<br /> + May preach with brazen tongue<br +/> +Stout Labour, high success,<br /> + And bright reward.</p> +<p class="poetry">And last, O Lord, I pray<br /> + For hearts resigned and bold<br /> + To trudge the dusty way—<br +/> + Hearts stored with song and +joke<br /> +And warmer than a cloak<br /> + Against the cold.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>If nothing else he had,<br /> + He who has this, has all.<br /> + This comforts under pain;<br /> + This, through the stinging +rain,<br /> +Keeps ragamuffin glad<br /> + Behind the wall.</p> +<p class="poetry">This makes the sanded inn<br /> + A palace for a Prince,<br /> + And this, when griefs begin<br /> + And cruel fate annoys,<br /> +Can bring to mind the joys<br /> + Of ages since.</p> +<h2>THE WIND IS WITHOUT THERE AND HOWLS IN THE TREES</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> wind is without +there and howls in the trees,<br /> + And the rain-flurries drum on the glass:<br /> +Alone by the fireside with elbows on knees<br /> + I can number the hours as they pass.<br /> +Yet now, when to cheer me the crickets begin,<br /> + And my pipe is just happily lit,<br /> +Believe me, my friend, tho’ the evening draws in,<br /> + That not all uncontested I sit.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +30</span>Alone, did I say? O no, nowise alone<br /> + With the Past sitting warm on my knee,<br /> +To gossip of days that are over and gone,<br /> + But still charming to her and to me.<br /> +With much to be glad of and much to deplore,<br /> + Yet, as these days with those we compare,<br /> +Believe me, my friend, tho’ the sorrows seem more<br /> + They are somehow more easy to bear.</p> +<p class="poetry">And thou, faded Future, uncertain and frail,<br +/> + As I cherish thy light in each draught,<br /> +His lamp is not more to the miner—their sail<br /> + Is not more to the crew on the raft.<br /> +For Hope can make feeble ones earnest and brave,<br /> + And, as forth thro’ the years I look on,<br /> +Believe me, my friend, between this and the grave,<br /> + I see wonderful things to be done.</p> +<p class="poetry">To do or to try; and, believe me, my friend,<br +/> + If the call should come early for me,<br /> +I can leave these foundations uprooted, and tend<br /> + For some new city over the sea.<br /> +To do or to try; and if failure be mine,<br /> + And if Fortune go cross to my plan,<br /> +Believe me, my friend, tho’ I mourn the design<br /> + I shall never lament for the man.</p> +<h2><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>A +VALENTINE’S SONG</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Motley</span> I count the +only wear<br /> + That suits, in this mixed world, the truly wise,<br +/> +Who boldly smile upon despair<br /> + And shake their bells in Grandam Grundy’s +eyes.<br /> +Singers should sing with such a goodly cheer<br /> + That the bare listening should make strong like +wine,<br /> +At this unruly time of year,<br /> + The Feast of Valentine.</p> +<p class="poetry">We do not now parade our +“oughts”<br /> + And “shoulds” and motives and beliefs in +God.<br /> +Their life lies all indoors; sad thoughts<br /> + Must keep the house, while gay thoughts go +abroad,<br /> +Within we hold the wake for hopes deceased;<br /> + But in the public streets, in wind or sun,<br /> +Keep open, at the annual feast,<br /> + The puppet-booth of fun.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our powers, perhaps, are small to please,<br /> + But even negro-songs and castanettes,<br /> +Old jokes and hackneyed repartees<br /> + Are more than the parade of vain regrets.<br /> +<a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>Let +Jacques stand Wert(h)ering by the wounded deer—<br /> + We shall make merry, honest friends of mine,<br /> +At this unruly time of year,<br /> + The Feast of Valentine.</p> +<p class="poetry">I know how, day by weary day,<br /> + Hope fades, love fades, a thousand pleasures +fade.<br /> +I have not trudged in vain that way<br /> + On which life’s daylight darkens, shade by +shade.<br /> +And still, with hopes decreasing, griefs increased,<br /> + Still, with what wit I have shall I, for one,<br /> +Keep open, at the annual feast,<br /> + The puppet-booth of fun.</p> +<p class="poetry">I care not if the wit be poor,<br /> + The old worn motley stained with rain and tears,<br +/> +If but the courage still endure<br /> + That filled and strengthened hope in earlier +years;<br /> +If still, with friends averted, fate severe,<br /> + A glad, untainted cheerfulness be mine<br /> +To greet the unruly time of year,<br /> + The Feast of Valentine.</p> +<p class="poetry">Priest, I am none of thine, and see<br /> + In the perspective of still hopeful youth<br /> +That Truth shall triumph over thee—<br /> + Truth to one’s self—I know no other +truth.<br /> +<a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>I see +strange days for thee and thine, O priest,<br /> + And how your doctrines, fallen one by one,<br /> +Shall furnish at the annual feast<br /> + The puppet-booth of fun.</p> +<p class="poetry">Stand on your putrid ruins—stand,<br /> + White neck-clothed bigot, fixedly the same,<br /> +Cruel with all things but the hand,<br /> + Inquisitor in all things but the name.<br /> +Back, minister of Christ and source of fear—<br /> + We cherish freedom—back with thee and thine<br +/> +From this unruly time of year,<br /> + The Feast of Valentine.</p> +<p class="poetry">Blood thou mayest spare; but what of tears?<br +/> + But what of riven households, broken faith—<br +/> +Bywords that cling through all men’s years<br /> + And drag them surely down to shame and death?<br /> +Stand back, O cruel man, O foe of youth,<br /> + And let such men as hearken not thy voice<br /> +Press freely up the road to truth,<br /> + The King’s highway of choice.</p> +<h2><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>HAIL! +CHILDISH SLAVES OF SOCIAL RULES</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hail</span>! Childish +slaves of social rules<br /> + You had yourselves a hand in making!<br /> +How I could shake your faith, ye fools,<br /> + If but I thought it worth the shaking.<br /> +I see, and pity you; and then<br /> + Go, casting off the idle pity,<br /> +In search of better, braver men,<br /> + My own way freely through the city.</p> +<p class="poetry">My own way freely, and not yours;<br /> + And, careless of a town’s abusing,<br /> +Seek real friendship that endures<br /> + Among the friends of my own choosing.<br /> +I’ll choose my friends myself, do you hear?<br /> + And won’t let Mrs. Grundy do it,<br /> +Tho’ all I honour and hold dear<br /> + And all I hope should move me to it.</p> +<p class="poetry">I take my old coat from the shelf—<br /> + I am a man of little breeding.<br /> +And only dress to please myself—<br /> + I own, a very strange proceeding.<br /> +<a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>I smoke a +pipe abroad, because<br /> + To all cigars I much prefer it,<br /> +And as I scorn your social laws<br /> + My choice has nothing to deter it.</p> +<p class="poetry">Gladly I trudge the footpath way,<br /> + While you and yours roll by in coaches<br /> +In all the pride of fine array,<br /> + Through all the city’s thronged approaches.<br +/> +O fine religious, decent folk,<br /> + In Virtue’s flaunting gold and scarlet,<br /> +I sneer between two puffs of smoke,—<br /> + Give me the publican and harlot.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ye dainty-spoken, stiff, severe<br /> + Seed of the migrated Philistian,<br /> +One whispered question in your ear—<br /> + Pray, what was Christ, if you be Christian?<br /> +If Christ were only here just now,<br /> + Among the city’s wynds and gables<br /> +Teaching the life he taught us, how<br /> + Would he be welcome to your tables?</p> +<p class="poetry">I go and leave your logic-straws,<br /> + Your former-friends with face averted,<br /> +Your petty ways and narrow laws,<br /> + Your Grundy and your God, deserted.<br /> +<a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>From your +frail ark of lies, I flee<br /> + I know not where, like Noah’s raven.<br /> +Full to the broad, unsounded sea<br /> + I swim from your dishonest haven.</p> +<p class="poetry">Alone on that unsounded deep,<br /> + Poor waif, it may be I shall perish,<br /> +Far from the course I thought to keep,<br /> + Far from the friends I hoped to cherish.<br /> +It may be that I shall sink, and yet<br /> + Hear, thro’ all taunt and scornful +laughter,<br /> +Through all defeat and all regret,<br /> + The stronger swimmers coming after.</p> +<h2>SWALLOWS TRAVEL TO AND FRO</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Swallows</span> travel to +and fro,<br /> +And the great winds come and go,<br /> +And the steady breezes blow,<br /> + Bearing perfume, bearing love.<br /> +Breezes hasten, swallows fly,<br /> +Towered clouds forever ply,<br /> +And at noonday, you and I<br /> + See the same sunshine above.</p> +<p class="poetry">Dew and rain fall everywhere,<br /> +Harvests ripen, flowers are fair,<br /> +And the whole round earth is bare<br /> + To the moonshine and the sun;<br /> +<a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 37</span>And the +live air, fanned with wings,<br /> +Bright with breeze and sunshine, brings<br /> +Into contact distant things,<br /> + And makes all the countries one.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let us wander where we will,<br /> +Something kindred greets us still;<br /> +Something seen on vale or hill<br /> + Falls familiar on the heart;<br /> +So, at scent or sound or sight,<br /> +Severed souls by day and night<br /> +Tremble with the same delight—<br /> + Tremble, half the world apart.</p> +<h2>TO MESDAMES ZASSETSKY AND GARSCHINE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> wind may blaw +the lee-gang way<br /> +And aye the lift be mirk an’ gray,<br /> +An deep the moss and steigh the brae<br /> + Where a’ maun gang—<br /> +There’s still an hoor in ilka day<br /> + For luve and sang.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>And canty hearts are strangely steeled.<br /> +By some dikeside they’ll find a bield,<br /> +Some couthy neuk by muir or field<br /> + They’re sure to hit,<br /> +Where, frae the blatherin’ wind concealed,<br /> + They’ll rest a bit.</p> +<p class="poetry">An’ weel for them if kindly fate<br /> +Send ower the hills to them a mate;<br /> +They’ll crack a while o’ kirk an’ State,<br /> + O’ yowes an’ rain:<br /> +An’ when it’s time to take the gate,<br /> + Tak’ ilk his ain.</p> +<p class="poetry">—Sic neuk beside the southern sea<br /> +I soucht—sic place o’ quiet lee<br /> +Frae a’ the winds o’ life. To me,<br /> + Fate, rarely fair,<br /> +Had set a freendly company<br /> + To meet me there.</p> +<p class="poetry">Kindly by them they gart me sit,<br /> +An’ blythe was I to bide a bit.<br /> +Licht as o’ some hame fireside lit<br /> + My life for me.<br /> +—Ower early maun I rise an’ quit<br /> + This happy lee.</p> +<h2><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>TO +MADAME GARSCHINE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> is the face, +the fairest face, till Care,<br /> + Till Care the graver—Care with cunning +hand,<br /> +Etches content thereon and makes it fair,<br /> + Or constancy, and love, and makes it grand?</p> +<h2>MUSIC AT THE VILLA MARINA</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">For</span> some abiding +central source of power,<br /> + Strong-smitten steady chords, ye seem to flow<br /> + And, flowing, carry virtue. Far below,<br /> +The vain tumultuous passions of the hour<br /> +Fleet fast and disappear; and as the sun<br /> + Shines on the wake of tempests, there is cast<br /> + O’er all the shattered ruins of my past<br /> +A strong contentment as of battles won.</p> +<p class="poetry">And yet I cry in anguish, as I hear<br /> + The long drawn pageant of your passage roll<br /> + Magnificently forth into the night.<br /> +To yon fair land ye come from, to yon sphere<br /> +Of strength and love where now ye shape your flight,<br /> + O even wings of music, bear my soul!</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>Ye have the power, if but ye had the will,<br /> + Strong-smitten steady chords in sequence grand,<br +/> + To bear me forth into that tranquil land<br /> +Where good is no more ravelled up with ill;<br /> +Where she and I, remote upon some hill<br /> + Or by some quiet river’s windless strand,<br +/> + May live, and love, and wander hand in hand,<br /> +And follow nature simply, and be still.</p> +<p class="poetry">From this grim world, where, sadly, prisoned, +we<br /> + Sit bound with others’ heart-strings as with +chains,<br /> + And, if one moves, all suffer,—to that +Goal,<br /> +If such a land, if such a sphere, there be,<br /> + Thither, from life and all life’s joys and +pains,<br /> + O even wings of music, bear my soul!</p> +<h2>FEAR NOT, DEAR FRIEND, BUT FREELY LIVE YOUR DAYS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fear</span> not, dear +friend, but freely live your days<br /> + Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am +I,<br /> + A lesser life, that what is his of sky<br /> +Gladly would give for you, and what of praise.<br /> +Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways.<br /> + We that have touched your raiment, are made whole<br +/> + From all the selfish cankers of man’s soul,<br +/> +<a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>And we +would see you happy, dear, or die.<br /> +Therefore be brave, and therefore, dear, be free;<br /> +Try all things resolutely, till the best,<br /> +Out of all lesser betters, you shall find;<br /> +And we, who have learned greatness from you, we,<br /> + Your lovers, with a still, contented mind,<br /> + See you well anchored in some port of rest.</p> +<h2>LET LOVE GO, IF GO SHE WILL</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Let</span> love go, if go +she will.<br /> + Seek not, O fool, her wanton flight to stay.<br /> + Of all she gives and takes away<br /> +The best remains behind her still.</p> +<p class="poetry">The best remains behind; in vain<br /> +Joy she may give and take again,<br /> +Joy she may take and leave us pain,<br /> + If yet she leave behind<br /> + The constant mind<br /> +To meet all fortunes nobly, to endure<br /> +All things with a good heart, and still be pure,<br /> +Still to be foremost in the foremost cause,<br /> +And still be worthy of the love that was.<br /> +Love coming is omnipotent indeed,<br /> +But not Love going. Let her go. The seed<br /> +<a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>Springs in +the favouring Summer air, and grows,<br /> +And waxes strong; and when the Summer goes,<br /> + Remains, a perfect tree.</p> +<p class="poetry">Joy she may give and take again,<br /> +Joy she may take and leave us pain.<br /> + O Love, and what care we?<br /> +For one thing thou hast given, O Love, one thing<br /> + Is ours that nothing can remove;<br /> +And as the King discrowned is still a King,<br /> + The unhappy lover still preserves his love.</p> +<h2>I DO NOT FEAR TO OWN ME KIN</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">do</span> not fear to own +me kin<br /> +To the glad clods in which spring flowers begin;<br /> +Or to my brothers, the great trees,<br /> +That speak with pleasant voices in the breeze,<br /> +Loud talkers with the winds that pass;<br /> +Or to my sister, the deep grass.</p> +<p class="poetry">Of such I am, of such my body is,<br /> +That thrills to reach its lips to kiss.<br /> +That gives and takes with wind and sun and rain<br /> +And feels keen pleasure to the point of pain.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +43</span>Of such are these,<br /> +The brotherhood of stalwart trees,<br /> +The humble family of flowers,<br /> +That make a light of shadowy bowers<br /> +Or star the edges of the bent:<br /> +They give and take sweet colour and sweet scent;<br /> +They joy to shed themselves abroad;<br /> +And tree and flower and grass and sod<br /> +Thrill and leap and live and sing<br /> +With silent voices in the Spring.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hence I not fear to yield my breath,<br /> +Since all is still unchanged by death;<br /> +Since in some pleasant valley I may be,<br /> +Clod beside clod, or tree by tree,<br /> +Long ages hence, with her I love this hour;<br /> +And feel a lively joy to share<br /> +With her the sun and rain and air,<br /> +To taste her quiet neighbourhood<br /> +As the dumb things of field and wood,<br /> +The clod, the tree, and starry flower,<br /> +Alone of all things have the power.</p> +<h2><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>I AM +LIKE ONE THAT FOR LONG DAYS HAD SATE</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">am</span> like one that +for long days had sate,<br /> + With seaward eyes set keen against the gale,<br /> + On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail,<br /> +The portbound ships for one ship that was late;<br /> +And sail by sail, his heart burned up with joy,<br /> + And cruelly was quenched, until at last<br /> + One ship, the looked-for pennant at its mast,<br /> +Bore gaily, and dropt safely past the buoy;<br /> +And lo! the loved one was not there—was dead.<br /> +Then would he watch no more; no more the sea<br /> + With myriad vessels, sail by sail, perplex<br /> +His eyes and mock his longing. Weary head,<br /> +Take now thy rest; eyes, close; for no more me<br /> + Shall hopes untried elate, or ruined vex.</p> +<p class="poetry">For thus on love I waited; thus for love<br /> + Strained all my senses eagerly and long;<br /> + Thus for her coming ever trimmed my song;<br /> +Till in the far skies coloured as a dove,<br /> +A bird gold-coloured flickered far and fled<br /> + Over the pathless waterwaste for me;<br /> + And with spread hands I watched the bright bird +flee<br /> +<a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>And +waited, till before me she dropped dead.<br /> + O golden bird in these dove-coloured skies<br /> + How long I sought, how long with wearied eyes<br /> +I sought, O bird, the promise of thy flight!<br /> + And now the morn has dawned, the morn has died,<br +/> +The day has come and gone; and once more night<br /> + About my lone life settles, wild and wide.</p> +<h2>VOLUNTARY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Here</span> in the quiet +eve<br /> +My thankful eyes receive<br /> + The quiet light.<br /> +I see the trees stand fair<br /> +Against the faded air,<br /> +And star by star prepare<br /> + The perfect night.</p> +<p class="poetry">And in my bosom, lo!<br /> +Content and quiet grow<br /> + Toward perfect peace.<br /> +And now when day is done,<br /> +Brief day of wind and sun,<br /> +The pure stars, one by one,<br /> + Their troop increase.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>Keen pleasure and keen grief<br /> +Give place to great relief:<br /> + Farewell my tears!<br /> +Still sounds toward me float;<br /> +I hear the bird’s small note,<br /> +Sheep from the far sheepcote,<br /> + And lowing steers.</p> +<p class="poetry">For lo! the war is done,<br /> +Lo, now the battle won,<br /> + The trumpets still.<br /> +The shepherd’s slender strain,<br /> +The country sounds again<br /> +Awake in wood and plain,<br /> + On haugh and hill.</p> +<p class="poetry">Loud wars and loud loves cease.<br /> +I welcome my release;<br /> + And hail once more<br /> +Free foot and way world-wide.<br /> +And oft at eventide<br /> +Light love to talk beside<br /> + The hostel door.</p> +<h2><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>ON +NOW, ALTHOUGH THE YEAR BE DONE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">On</span> now, although the +year be done,<br /> + Now, although the love be dead,<br /> + Dead and gone;<br /> +Hear me, O loved and cherished one,<br /> + Give me still the hand that led,<br /> + Led me on.</p> +<h2>IN THE GREEN AND GALLANT SPRING</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In</span> the green and +gallant Spring,<br /> +Love and the lyre I thought to sing,<br /> +And kisses sweet to give and take<br /> +By the flowery hawthorn brake.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now is russet Autumn here,<br /> +Death and the grave and winter drear,<br /> +And I must ponder here aloof<br /> +While the rain is on the roof.</p> +<h2><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>DEATH, +TO THE DEAD FOR EVERMORE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Death</span>, to the dead +for evermore<br /> +A King, a God, the last, the best of friends—<br /> +Whene’er this mortal journey ends<br /> +Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;<br /> +Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore<br /> +Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn<br /> +Disturbs the eternal sleep,<br /> +But in the stillness far withdrawn<br /> +Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.</p> +<p class="poetry">For as from open windows forth we peep<br /> +Upon the night-time star beset<br /> +And with dews for ever wet;<br /> +So from this garish life the spirit peers;<br /> +And lo! as a sleeping city death outspread,<br /> +Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo!<br /> +After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears<br /> +And clamour of man’s passion, Death appears,<br /> +And we must rise and go.</p> +<p class="poetry">Soon are eyes tired with sunshine; soon the +ears<br /> +Weary of utterance, seeing all is said;<br /> +Soon, racked by hopes and fears,<br /> +The all-pondering, all-contriving head,<br /> +<a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>Weary with +all things, wearies of the years;<br /> +And our sad spirits turn toward the dead;<br /> +And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.</p> +<h2>TO CHARLES BAXTER</h2> +<p><i>On the death of their common friend</i>, <i>Mr. John +Adam</i>, <i>Clerk of court</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Our</span> Johnie’s +deid. The mair’s the pity!<br /> +He’s deid, an’ deid o’ Aqua-vitæ.<br /> +O Embro’, you’re a shrunken city,<br /> + Noo Johnie’s deid!<br /> +Tak hands, an’ sing a burial ditty<br /> + Ower Johnie’s heid.</p> +<p class="poetry">To see him was baith drink an’ meat,<br +/> +Gaun linkin’ glegly up the street.<br /> +He but to rin or tak a seat,<br /> + The wee bit body!<br /> +Bein’ aye unsicken on his feet<br /> + Wi’ whusky toddy.</p> +<p class="poetry">To be aye tosh was Johnie’s whim,<br /> +There’s nane was better teut than him,<br /> +Though whiles his gravit-knot wad clim’<br /> + Ahint his ear,<br /> +An’ whiles he’d buttons oot or in<br /> + The less ae mair.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>His hair a’ lang about his bree,<br /> +His tap-lip lang by inches three—<br /> +A slockened sort ‘mon,’ to pree<br /> + A’ sensuality—<br /> +A droutly glint was in his e’e<br /> + An’ personality.</p> +<p class="poetry">An’ day an’ nicht, frae daw to +daw,<br /> +Dink an’ perjink an’ doucely braw,<br /> +Wi’ a kind o’ Gospel ower a’,<br /> + May or October,<br /> +Like Peden, followin’ the Law<br /> + An’ no that sober.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whusky an’ he were pack thegether.<br /> +Whate’er the hour, whate’er the weather,<br /> +John kept himsel’ wi’ mistened leather<br /> + An’ kindled spunk.<br /> +Wi’ him, there was nae askin’ whether—<br /> + John was aye drunk.</p> +<p class="poetry">The auncient heroes gash an’ bauld<br /> +In the uncanny days of auld,<br /> +The task ance fo(u)nd to which th’were called,<br /> + Stack stenchly to it.<br /> +His life sic noble lives recalled,<br /> + Little’s he knew it.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>Single an’ straucht, he went his way.<br /> +He kept the faith an’ played the play.<br /> +Whusky an’ he were man an’ may<br /> + Whate’er betided.<br /> +Bonny in life—in death—this twae<br /> + Were no’ divided.</p> +<p class="poetry">An’ wow! but John was unco sport.<br /> +Whiles he wad smile about the Court<br /> +Malvolio-like—whiles snore an’ snort<br /> + Was heard afar.<br /> +The idle winter lads’ resort<br /> + Was aye John’s bar.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s merely humorous or bonny<br /> +The Worl’ regairds wi’ cauld astony.<br /> +Drunk men tak’ aye mair place than ony;<br /> + An’ sae, ye see,<br /> +The gate was aye ower thrang for Johnie—<br /> + Or you an’ me.</p> +<p class="poetry">John micht hae jingled cap an’ bells,<br +/> +Been a braw fule in silks an’ pells,<br /> +In ane o’ the auld worl’s canty hells<br /> + Paris or Sodom.<br /> +I wadnae had him naething else<br /> + But Johnie Adam.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>He suffered—as have a’ that wan<br /> +Eternal memory frae man,<br /> +Since e’er the weary worl’ began—<br /> + Mister or Madam,<br /> +Keats or Scots Burns, the Spanish Don<br /> + Or Johnie Adam.</p> +<p class="poetry">We leuch, an’ Johnie deid. +An’ fegs!<br /> +Hoo he had keept his stoiterin’ legs<br /> +Sae lang’s he did’s a fact that begs<br /> + An explanation.<br /> +He stachers fifty years—syne plegs<br /> + To’s destination.</p> +<h2>I WHO ALL THE WINTER THROUGH</h2> +<p class="poetry"> I <span +class="smcap">who</span> all the winter through<br /> + Cherished other loves than you,<br +/> +And kept hands with hoary policy in marriage-bed and pew;<br /> + Now I know the false and true,<br +/> + For the earnest sun looks +through,<br /> +And my old love comes to meet me in the dawning and the dew.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Now the +hedged meads renew<br /> + Rustic odour, smiling hue,<br /> +And the clean air shines and tinkles as the world goes wheeling +through;<br /> + <a name="page53"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 53</span>And my heart springs up anew,<br /> + Bright and confident and true,<br +/> +And my old love comes to meet me in the dawning and the dew.</p> +<h2>LOVE, WHAT IS LOVE?</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Love</span>—what is +love? A great and aching heart;<br /> +Wrung hands; and silence; and a long despair.<br /> +Life—what is life? Upon a moorland bare<br /> +To see love coming and see love depart.</p> +<h2>SOON OUR FRIENDS PERISH</h2> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Soon</span> our friends perish,<br /> + Soon all we cherish<br /> +Fades as days darken—goes as flowers go.<br /> + Soon in December<br /> + Over an ember,<br /> +Lonely we hearken, as loud winds blow.</p> +<h2>AS ONE WHO HAVING WANDERED ALL NIGHT LONG</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As</span> one who having +wandered all night long<br /> + In a perplexed forest, comes at length<br /> +In the first hours, about the matin song,<br /> + And when the sun uprises in his strength,<br /> +<a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>To the +fringed margin of the wood, and sees,<br /> + Gazing afar before him, many a mile<br /> +Of falling country, many fields and trees,<br /> + And cities and bright streams and far-off +Ocean’s smile:</p> +<p class="poetry">I, O Melampus, halting, stand at gaze:<br /> + I, liberated, look abroad on life,<br /> +Love, and distress, and dusty travelling ways,<br /> + The steersman’s helm, the surgeon’s +helpful knife,<br /> +On the lone ploughman’s earth-upturning share,<br /> + The revelry of cities and the sound<br /> +Of seas, and mountain-tops aloof in air,<br /> + And of the circling earth the unsupported round:</p> +<p class="poetry">I, looking, wonder: I, intent, adore;<br /> + And, O Melampus, reaching forth my hands<br /> +In adoration, cry aloud and soar<br /> + In spirit, high above the supine lands<br /> +And the low caves of mortal things, and flee<br /> + To the last fields of the universe untrod,<br /> +Where is no man, nor any earth, nor sea,<br /> + And the contented soul is all alone with God.</p> +<h2><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +55</span>STRANGE ARE THE WAYS OF MEN</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Strange</span> are the ways +of men,<br /> + And strange the ways of God!<br /> +We tread the mazy paths<br /> + That all our fathers trod.</p> +<p class="poetry">We tread them undismayed,<br /> + And undismayed behold<br /> +The portents of the sky,<br /> + The things that were of old.</p> +<p class="poetry">The fiery stars pursue<br /> + Their course in heav’n on high;<br /> +And round the ‘leaguered town,<br /> + Crest-tossing heroes cry.</p> +<p class="poetry">Crest-tossing heroes cry;<br /> + And martial fifes declare<br /> +How small, to mortal minds,<br /> + Is merely mortal care.</p> +<p class="poetry">And to the clang of steel<br /> + And cry of piercing flute<br /> +Upon the azure peaks<br /> + A God shall plant his foot:</p> +<p class="poetry">A God in arms shall stand,<br /> + And seeing wide and far<br /> +The green and golden earth,<br /> + The killing tide of war,</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +56</span>He, with uplifted arm,<br /> + Shall to the skies proclaim<br /> +The gleeful fate of man,<br /> + The noble road to fame!</p> +<h2>THE WIND BLEW SHRILL AND SMART</h2> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">The</span> wind blew shrill and smart,<br /> + And the wind awoke my heart<br /> +Again to go a-sailing o’er the sea,<br /> + To hear the cordage moan<br /> + And the straining timbers +groan,<br /> +And to see the flying pennon lie a-lee.</p> +<p class="poetry"> O sailor of +the fleet,<br /> + It is time to stir the feet!<br /> +It’s time to man the dingy and to row!<br /> + It’s lay your hand in +mine<br /> + And it’s empty down the +wine,<br /> +And it’s drain a health to death before we go!</p> +<p class="poetry"> To death, +my lads, we sail;<br /> + And it’s death that blows +the gale<br /> +And death that holds the tiller as we ride.<br /> + For he’s the king of all<br +/> + In the tempest and the squall,<br +/> +And the ruler of the Ocean wild and wide!</p> +<h2><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>MAN +SAILS THE DEEP AWHILE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Man</span> sails the deep +awhile;<br /> + Loud runs the roaring tide;<br /> + The seas are wild and wide;<br /> +O’er many a salt, o’er many a desert mile,<br /> + The unchained breakers ride,<br /> + The quivering stars beguile.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hope bears the sole command;<br /> + Hope, with unshaken eyes,<br /> + Sees flaw and storm arise;<br /> +Hope, the good steersman, with unwearying hand,<br /> + Steers, under changing skies,<br +/> + Unchanged toward the land.</p> +<p class="poetry">O wind that bravely blows!<br /> + O hope that sails with all<br /> + Where stars and voices call!<br /> +O ship undaunted that forever goes<br /> + Where God, her admiral,<br /> + His battle signal shows!</p> +<p class="poetry">What though the seas and wind<br /> + Far on the deep should whelm<br /> + Colours and sails and helm?<br /> +There, too, you touch that port that you designed—<br /> + There, in the mid-seas’ +realm,<br /> + Shall you that haven find.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +58</span>Well hast thou sailed: now die,<br /> + To die is not to sleep.<br /> + Still your true course you +keep,<br /> +O sailor soul, still sailing for the sky;<br /> + And fifty fathom deep<br /> + Your colours still shall fly.</p> +<h2>THE COCK’S CLEAR VOICE INTO THE CLEARER AIR</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> cock’s +clear voice into the clearer air<br /> + Where westward far I roam,<br /> +Mounts with a thrill of hope,<br /> + Falls with a sigh of home.</p> +<p class="poetry">A rural sentry, he from farm and field<br /> + The coming morn descries,<br /> +And, mankind’s bugler, wakes<br /> + The camp of enterprise.</p> +<p class="poetry">He sings the morn upon the westward hills<br /> + Strange and remote and wild;<br /> +He sings it in the land<br /> + Where once I was a child.</p> +<p class="poetry">He brings to me dear voices of the past,<br /> + The old land and the years:<br /> +My father calls for me,<br /> + My weeping spirit hears.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>Fife, fife, into the golden air, O bird,<br /> + And sing the morning in;<br /> +For the old days are past<br /> + And new days begin.</p> +<h2>NOW WHEN THE NUMBER OF MY YEARS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> when the number +of my years<br /> + Is all fulfilled, and I<br /> + From sedentary life<br /> + Shall rouse me up to die,<br /> + Bury me low and let me lie<br /> + Under the wide and starry sky.<br +/> + Joying to live, I joyed to die,<br +/> + Bury me low and let me lie.</p> +<p class="poetry">Clear was my soul, my deeds were free,<br /> + Honour was called my name,<br /> + I fell not back from fear<br /> + Nor followed after fame.<br /> + Bury me low and let me lie<br /> + Under the wide and starry sky.<br +/> + Joying to live, I joyed to die,<br +/> + Bury me low and let me lie.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +60</span>Bury me low in valleys green<br /> + And where the milder breeze<br /> + Blows fresh along the stream,<br /> + Sings roundly in the trees—<br /> + Bury me low and let me lie<br /> + Under the wide and starry sky.<br +/> + Joying to live, I joyed to die,<br +/> + Bury me low and let me lie.</p> +<h2>WHAT MAN MAY LEARN, WHAT MAN MAY DO</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> man may learn, +what man may do,<br /> +Of right or wrong of false or true,<br /> +While, skipper-like, his course he steers<br /> +Through nine and twenty mingled years,<br /> +Half misconceived and half forgot,<br /> +So much I know and practise not.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old are the words of wisdom, old<br /> +The counsels of the wise and bold:<br /> +To close the ears, to check the tongue,<br /> +To keep the pining spirit young;<br /> +To act the right, to say the true,<br /> +And to be kind whate’er you do.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span>Thus we across the modern stage<br /> +Follow the wise of every age;<br /> +And, as oaks grow and rivers run<br /> +Unchanged in the unchanging sun,<br /> +So the eternal march of man<br /> +Goes forth on an eternal plan.</p> +<h2>SMALL IS THE TRUST WHEN LOVE IS GREEN</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Small</span> is the trust +when love is green<br /> + In sap of early years;<br /> +A little thing steps in between<br /> + And kisses turn to tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">Awhile—and see how love be grown<br /> + In loveliness and power!<br /> +Awhile, it loves the sweets alone,<br /> + But next it loves the sour.</p> +<p class="poetry">A little love is none at all<br /> + That wanders or that fears;<br /> +A hearty love dwells still at call<br /> + To kisses or to tears.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span>Such then be mine, my love to give,<br /> + And such be yours to take:—<br /> +A faith to hold, a life to live,<br /> + For lovingkindness’ sake:</p> +<p class="poetry">Should you be sad, should you be gay,<br /> + Or should you prove unkind,<br /> +A love to hold the growing way<br /> + And keep the helping mind:—</p> +<p class="poetry">A love to turn the laugh on care<br /> + When wrinkled care appears,<br /> +And, with an equal will, to share<br /> + Your losses and your tears.</p> +<h2>KNOW YOU THE RIVER NEAR TO GREZ</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Know</span> you the river +near to Grez,<br /> + A river deep and clear?<br /> +Among the lilies all the way,<br /> +That ancient river runs to-day<br /> + From snowy weir to weir.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old as the Rhine of great renown,<br /> + She hurries clear and fast,<br /> +She runs amain by field and town<br /> +From south to north, from up to down,<br /> + To present on from past.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span>The love I hold was borne by her;<br /> + And now, though far away,<br /> +My lonely spirit hears the stir<br /> +Of water round the starling spur<br /> + Beside the bridge at Grez.</p> +<p class="poetry">So may that love forever hold<br /> + In life an equal pace;<br /> +So may that love grow never old,<br /> +But, clear and pure and fountain-cold,<br /> + Go on from grace to grace.</p> +<h2>IT’S FORTH ACROSS THE ROARING FOAM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">It’s</span> forth +across the roaring foam, and on towards the west,<br /> +It’s many a lonely league from home, o’er many a +mountain crest,<br /> +From where the dogs of Scotland call the sheep around the +fold,<br /> +To where the flags are flying beside the Gates of Gold.</p> +<p class="poetry">Where all the deep-sea galleons ride that come +to bring the corn,<br /> +Where falls the fog at eventide and blows the breeze at morn;<br +/> +<a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>It’s +there that I was sick and sad, alone and poor and cold,<br /> +In yon distressful city beside the Gates of Gold.</p> +<p class="poetry">I slept as one that nothing knows; but far +along my way,<br /> +Before the morning God rose and planned the coming day;<br /> +Afar before me forth he went, as through the sands of old,<br /> +And chose the friends to help me beside the Gates of Gold.</p> +<p class="poetry">I have been near, I have been far, my +back’s been at the wall,<br /> +Yet aye and ever shone the star to guide me through it all:<br /> +The love of God, the help of man, they both shall make me bold<br +/> +Against the gates of darkness as beside the Gates of Gold.</p> +<h2><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>AN +ENGLISH BREEZE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Up</span> with the sun, the +breeze arose,<br /> +Across the talking corn she goes,<br /> +And smooth she rustles far and wide<br /> +Through all the voiceful countryside.</p> +<p class="poetry">Through all the land her tale she tells;<br /> +She spins, she tosses, she compels<br /> +The kites, the clouds, the windmill sails<br /> +And all the trees in all the dales.</p> +<p class="poetry">God calls us, and the day prepares<br /> +With nimble, gay and gracious airs:<br /> +And from Penzance to Maidenhead<br /> +The roads last night He watered.</p> +<p class="poetry">God calls us from inglorious ease,<br /> +Forth and to travel with the breeze<br /> +While, swift and singing, smooth and strong<br /> +She gallops by the fields along.</p> +<h2><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>AS IN +THEIR FLIGHT THE BIRDS OF SONG</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As</span> in their flight +the birds of song<br /> +Halt here and there in sweet and sunny dales,<br /> +But halt not overlong;<br /> +The time one rural song to sing<br /> +They pause; then following bounteous gales<br /> +Steer forward on the wing:<br /> +Sun-servers they, from first to last,<br /> +Upon the sun they wait<br /> +To ride the sailing blast.</p> +<p class="poetry">So he awhile in our contested state,<br /> +Awhile abode, not longer, for his Sun—<br /> +Mother we say, no tenderer name we know—<br /> +With whose diviner glow<br /> +His early days had shone,<br /> +Now to withdraw her radiance had begun.<br /> +Or lest a wrong I say, not she withdrew,<br /> +But the loud stream of men day after day<br /> +And great dust columns of the common way<br /> +Between them grew and grew:<br /> +And he and she for evermore might yearn,<br /> +But to the spring the rivulets not return<br /> +Nor to the bosom comes the child again.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>And he (O may we fancy so!),<br /> +He, feeling time forever flow<br /> +And flowing bear him forth and far away<br /> +From that dear ingle where his life began<br /> +And all his treasure lay—<br /> +He, waxing into man,<br /> +And ever farther, ever closer wound<br /> +In this obstreperous world’s ignoble round,<br /> +From that poor prospect turned his face away.</p> +<h2>THE PIPER</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Again</span> I hear you +piping, for I know the tune so well,—<br /> + You rouse the heart to wander and be free,<br /> +Tho’ where you learned your music, not the God of song can +tell,<br /> + For you pipe the open highway and the sea.<br /> +O piper, lightly footing, lightly piping on your way,<br /> + Tho’ your music thrills and pierces far and +near,<br /> +I tell you you had better pipe to someone else to-day,<br /> + For you cannot pipe my fancy from my dear.</p> +<p class="poetry">You sound the note of travel through the hamlet +and the town;<br /> + You would lure the holy angels from on high;<br /> +And not a man can hear you, but he throws the hammer down<br /> + And is off to see the countries ere he die.<br /> +<a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>But now no +more I wander, now unchanging here I stay;<br /> + By my love, you find me safely sitting here:<br /> +And pipe you ne’er so sweetly, till you pipe the hills +away,<br /> + You can never pipe my fancy from my dear.</p> +<h2>TO MRS. MACMARLAND</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In</span> Schnee der +Alpen—so it runs<br /> + To those divine accords—and here<br /> +We dwell in Alpine snows and suns,<br /> + A motley crew, for half the year:<br /> +A motley crew, we dwell to taste—<br /> + A shivering band in hope and fear—<br /> +That sun upon the snowy waste,<br /> + That Alpine ether cold and clear.</p> +<p class="poetry">Up from the laboured plains, and up<br /> + From low sea-levels, we arise<br /> +To drink of that diviner cup<br /> + The rarer air, the clearer skies;<br /> +For, as the great, old, godly King<br /> + From mankind’s turbid valley cries,<br /> +So all we mountain-lovers sing:<br /> + I to the hills will lift mine eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>The bells that ring, the peaks that climb,<br /> + The frozen snow’s unbroken curd<br /> +Might yet revindicate in rhyme<br /> + The pauseless stream, the absent bird.<br /> +In vain—for to the deeps of life<br /> + You, lady, you my heart have stirred;<br /> +And since you say you love my life,<br /> + Be sure I love you for the word.</p> +<p class="poetry">Of kindness, here I nothing say—<br /> + Such loveless kindnesses there are<br /> +In that grimacing, common way,<br /> + That old, unhonoured social war.<br /> +Love but my dog and love my love,<br /> + Adore with me a common star—<br /> +I value not the rest above<br /> + The ashes of a bad cigar.</p> +<h2>TO MISS CORNISH</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">They</span> tell me, lady, +that to-day<br /> + On that unknown Australian strand—<br /> +Some time ago, so far away—<br /> + Another lady joined the band.<br /> +<a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>She joined +the company of those<br /> + Lovelily dowered, nobly planned,<br /> +Who, smiling, still forgive their foes<br /> + And keep their friends in close command.</p> +<p class="poetry">She, lady, as I learn, was one<br /> + Among the many rarely good;<br /> +And destined still to be a sun<br /> + Through every dark and rainy mood:—<br /> +She, as they told me, far had come,<br /> + By sea and land, o’er many a rood:—<br +/> +Admired by all, beloved by some,<br /> + She was yourself, I understood.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, compliment apart and free<br /> + From all constraint of verses, may<br /> +Goodness and honour, grace and glee,<br /> + Attend you ever on your way—<br /> +Up to the measure of your will,<br /> + Beyond all power of mine to say—<br /> +As she and I desire you still,<br /> + Miss Cornish, on your natal day.</p> +<h2><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>TALES +OF ARABIA</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, friend, I own +these tales of Arabia<br /> +Smile not, as smiled their flawless originals,<br /> + Age-old but yet untamed, for ages<br /> + Pass and the magic is undiminished.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus, friend, the tales of the old +Camaralzaman,<br /> +Ayoub, the Slave of Love, or the Calendars,<br /> + Blind-eyed and ill-starred royal scions,<br /> + Charm us in age as they charmed in childhood.</p> +<p class="poetry">Fair ones, beyond all numerability,<br /> +Beam from the palace, beam on humanity,<br /> + Bright-eyed, in truth, yet soul-less houris<br /> + Offering pleasure and only pleasure.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus they, the venal Muses Arabian,<br /> +Unlike, indeed, the nobler divinities,<br /> + Greek Gods or old time-honoured muses,<br /> + Easily proffer unloved caresses.</p> +<p class="poetry">Lost, lost, the man who mindeth the +minstrelsy;<br /> +Since still, in sandy, glittering pleasances,<br /> + Cold, stony fruits, gem-like but quite in-<br /> + Edible, flatter and wholly starve him.</p> +<h2><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +72</span>BEHOLD, AS GOBLINS DARK OF MIEN</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Behold</span>, as goblins +dark of mien<br /> + And portly tyrants dyed with crime<br /> +Change, in the transformation scene,<br /> + At Christmas, in the pantomime,</p> +<p class="poetry">Instanter, at the prompter’s cough,<br /> + The fairy bonnets them, and they<br /> +Throw their abhorred carbuncles off<br /> + And blossom like the flowers in May.</p> +<p class="poetry">—So mankind, to angelic eyes,<br /> + So, through the scenes of life below,<br /> +In life’s ironical disguise,<br /> + A travesty of man, ye go:</p> +<p class="poetry">But fear not: ere the curtain fall,<br /> + Death in the transformation scene<br /> +Steps forward from her pedestal,<br /> + Apparent, as the fairy Queen;</p> +<p class="poetry">And coming, frees you in a trice<br /> + From all your lendings—lust of fame,<br /> +Ungainly virtue, ugly vice,<br /> + Terror and tyranny and shame.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>So each, at last himself, for good<br /> + In that dear country lays him down,<br /> +At last beloved and understood<br /> + And pure in feature and renown.</p> +<h2>STILL I LOVE TO RHYME</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Still</span> I love to +rhyme, and still more, rhyming, to wander<br /> + Far from the commoner way;<br /> +Old-time trills and falls by the brook-side still do I ponder,<br +/> + Dreaming to-morrow to-day.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come here, come, revive me, Sun-God, teach me, +Apollo,<br /> + Measures descanted before;<br /> +Since I ancient verses, I emulous follow,<br /> + Prints in the marbles of yore.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still strange, strange, they sound in old-young +raiment invested,<br /> + Songs for the brain to forget—<br /> +Young song-birds elate to grave old temples benested<br /> + Piping and chirruping yet.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>Thoughts? No thought has yet unskilled attempted +to flutter<br /> + Trammelled so vilely in verse;<br /> +He who writes but aims at fame and his bread and his butter,<br +/> + Won with a groan and a curse.</p> +<h2>LONG TIME I LAY IN LITTLE EASE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Long</span> time I lay in +little ease<br /> + Where, placed by the Turanian,<br /> +Marseilles, the many-masted, sees<br /> + The blue Mediterranean.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now songful in the hour of sport,<br /> + Now riotous for wages,<br /> +She camps around her ancient port,<br /> + As ancient of the ages.</p> +<p class="poetry">Algerian airs through all the place<br /> + Unconquerably sally;<br /> +Incomparable women pace<br /> + The shadows of the alley.</p> +<p class="poetry">And high o’er dark and graving yard<br /> + And where the sky is paler,<br /> +The golden virgin of the guard<br /> + Shines, beckoning the sailor.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +75</span>She hears the city roar on high,<br /> + Thief, prostitute, and banker;<br /> +She sees the masted vessels lie<br /> + Immovably at anchor.</p> +<p class="poetry">She sees the snowy islets dot<br /> + The sea’s immortal azure,<br /> +And If, that castellated spot,<br /> + Tower, turret, and embrasure.</p> +<h2>FLOWER GOD, GOD OF THE SPRING</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Flower</span> god, god of +the spring, beautiful, bountiful,<br /> +Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles,<br /> + Here I wander in April<br /> + Cold, grey-headed; and still to my<br /> +Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer,<br /> +Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant;<br /> + Spring, flower-planter in meadows,<br /> + Child-conductor in willowy<br /> +Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies and crocuses:<br /> +Here that child from his heart drinks of eternity:<br /> + O child, happy are children!<br /> + She still smiles on their innocence,<br /> +She, dear mother in God, fostering violets,<br /> +Fills earth full of her scents, voices and violins:<br /> + <a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +76</span>Thus one cunning in music<br /> + Wakes old chords in the memory:<br /> +Thus fair earth in the Spring leads her performances.<br /> +One more touch of the bow, smell of the virginal<br /> + Green—one more, and my bosom<br /> + Feels new life with an ecstasy.</p> +<h2>COME, MY BELOVED, HEAR FROM ME</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, my beloved, +hear from me<br /> +Tales of the woods or open sea.<br /> +Let our aspiring fancy rise<br /> +A wren’s flight higher toward the skies;<br /> +Or far from cities, brown and bare,<br /> +Play at the least in open air.<br /> +In all the tales men hear us tell<br /> +Still let the unfathomed ocean swell,<br /> +Or shallower forest sound abroad<br /> +Below the lonely stars of God;<br /> +In all, let something still be done,<br /> +Still in a corner shine the sun,<br /> +Slim-ankled maids be fleet of foot,<br /> +Nor man disown the rural flute.<br /> +Still let the hero from the start<br /> +In honest sweat and beats of heart<br /> +Push on along the untrodden road<br /> +For some inviolate abode.<br /> +<a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>Still, O +beloved, let me hear<br /> +The great bell beating far and near—<br /> +The odd, unknown, enchanted gong<br /> +That on the road hales men along,<br /> +That from the mountain calls afar,<br /> +That lures a vessel from a star,<br /> +And with a still, aerial sound<br /> +Makes all the earth enchanted ground.<br /> +Love, and the love of life and act<br /> +Dance, live and sing through all our furrowed tract;<br /> +Till the great God enamoured gives<br /> +To him who reads, to him who lives,<br /> +That rare and fair romantic strain<br /> +That whoso hears must hear again.</p> +<h2>SINCE YEARS AGO FOR EVERMORE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Since</span> years ago for +evermore<br /> +My cedar ship I drew to shore;<br /> +And to the road and riverbed<br /> +And the green, nodding reeds, I said<br /> +Mine ignorant and last farewell:<br /> +Now with content at home I dwell,<br /> +And now divide my sluggish life<br /> +Betwixt my verses and my wife:<br /> +<a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>In vain; +for when the lamp is lit<br /> +And by the laughing fire I sit,<br /> +Still with the tattered atlas spread<br /> +Interminable roads I tread.</p> +<h2>ENVOY FOR “A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES”</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Whether</span> upon the +garden seat<br /> +You lounge with your uplifted feet<br /> +Under the May’s whole Heaven of blue;<br /> +Or whether on the sofa you,<br /> +No grown up person being by,<br /> +Do some soft corner occupy;<br /> +Take you this volume in your hands<br /> +And enter into other lands,<br /> +For lo! (as children feign) suppose<br /> +You, hunting in the garden rows,<br /> +Or in the lumbered attic, or<br /> +The cellar—a nail-studded door<br /> +And dark, descending stairway found<br /> +That led to kingdoms underground:<br /> +There standing, you should hear with ease<br /> +Strange birds a-singing, or the trees<br /> +Swing in big robber woods, or bells<br /> +On many fairy citadels:</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>There passing through (a step or so—<br /> +Neither mamma nor nurse need know!)<br /> +From your nice nurseries you would pass,<br /> +Like Alice through the Looking-Glass<br /> +Or Gerda following Little Ray,<br /> +To wondrous countries far away.<br /> +Well, and just so this volume can<br /> +Transport each little maid or man<br /> +Presto from where they live away<br /> +Where other children used to play.<br /> +As from the house your mother sees<br /> +You playing round the garden trees,<br /> +So you may see if you but look<br /> +Through the windows of this book<br /> +Another child far, far away<br /> +And in another garden play.<br /> +But do not think you can at all,<br /> +By knocking on the window, call<br /> +That child to hear you. He intent<br /> +Is still on his play-business bent.<br /> +He does not hear, he will not look,<br /> +Nor yet be lured out of this book.<br /> +For long ago, the truth to say,<br /> +He has grown up and gone away;<br /> +And it is but a child of air<br /> +That lingers in the garden there.</p> +<h2><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>FOR +RICHMOND’S GARDEN WALL</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> Thomas set this +tablet here,<br /> +Time laughed at the vain chanticleer;<br /> +And ere the moss had dimmed the stone,<br /> +Time had defaced that garrison.<br /> +Now I in turn keep watch and ward<br /> +In my red house, in my walled yard<br /> +Of sunflowers, sitting here at ease<br /> +With friends and my bright canvases.<br /> +But hark, and you may hear quite plain<br /> +Time’s chuckled laughter in the lane.</p> +<h2>HAIL, GUEST, AND ENTER FREELY!</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hail</span>, guest, and +enter freely! All you see<br /> +Is, for your momentary visit, yours; and we<br /> +Who welcome you are but the guests of God,<br /> +And know not our departure.</p> +<h2><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>LO, +NOW, MY GUEST</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Lo</span>, now, my guest, +if aught amiss were said,<br /> +Forgive it and dismiss it from your head.<br /> +For me, for you, for all, to close the date,<br /> +Pass now the ev’ning sponge across the slate;<br /> +And to that spirit of forgiveness keep<br /> +Which is the parent and the child of sleep.</p> +<h2>SO LIVE, SO LOVE, SO USE THAT FRAGILE HOUR</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">So</span> live, so love, so +use that fragile hour,<br /> +That when the dark hand of the shining power<br /> +Shall one from other, wife or husband, take,<br /> +The poor survivor may not weep and wake.</p> +<h2><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>AD SE +IPSUM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Dear</span> sir, +good-morrow! Five years back,<br /> +When you first girded for this arduous track,<br /> +And under various whimsical pretexts<br /> +Endowed another with your damned defects,<br /> +Could you have dreamed in your despondent vein<br /> +That the kind God would make your path so plain?<br /> +Non nobis, domine! O, may He still<br /> +Support my stumbling footsteps on the hill!</p> +<h2>BEFORE THIS LITTLE GIFT WAS COME</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Before</span> this little +gift was come<br /> +The little owner had made haste for home;<br /> +And from the door of where the eternal dwell,<br /> +Looked back on human things and smiled farewell.<br /> +O may this grief remain the only one!<br /> +O may our house be still a garrison<br /> +Of smiling children, and for evermore<br /> +The tune of little feet be heard along the floor!</p> +<h2><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>GO, +LITTLE BOOK—THE ANCIENT PHRASE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Go</span>, little +book—the ancient phrase<br /> +And still the daintiest—go your ways,<br /> +My Otto, over sea and land,<br /> +Till you shall come to Nelly’s hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">How shall I your Nelly know?<br /> +By her blue eyes and her black brow,<br /> +By her fierce and slender look,<br /> +And by her goodness, little book!</p> +<p class="poetry">What shall I say when I come there?<br /> +You shall speak her soft and fair:<br /> +See—you shall say—the love they send<br /> +To greet their unforgotten friend!</p> +<p class="poetry">Giant Adulpho you shall sing<br /> +The next, and then the cradled king:<br /> +And the four corners of the roof<br /> +Then kindly bless; and to your perch aloof,<br /> +Where Balzac all in yellow dressed<br /> +And the dear Webster of the west<br /> +Encircle the prepotent throne<br /> +Of Shakespeare and of Calderon,<br /> +Shall climb an upstart.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +84</span>There with these<br /> +You shall give ear to breaking seas<br /> +And windmills turning in the breeze,<br /> +A distant undetermined din<br /> +Without; and you shall hear within<br /> +The blazing and the bickering logs,<br /> +The crowing child, the yawning dogs,<br /> +And ever agile, high and low,<br /> +Our Nelly going to and fro.</p> +<p class="poetry">There shall you all silent sit,<br /> +Till, when perchance the lamp is lit<br /> +And the day’s labour done, she takes<br /> +Poor Otto down, and, warming for our sakes,<br /> +Perchance beholds, alive and near,<br /> +Our distant faces reappear.</p> +<h2>MY LOVE WAS WARM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">My</span> love was warm; +for that I crossed<br /> + The mountains and the sea,<br /> +Nor counted that endeavour lost<br /> + That gave my love to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">If that indeed were love at all,<br /> + As still, my love, I trow,<br /> +By what dear name am I to call<br /> + The bond that holds me now</p> +<h2><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +85</span>DEDICATORY POEM FOR “UNDERWOODS”</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To</span> her, for I must +still regard her<br /> +As feminine in her degree,<br /> +Who has been my unkind bombarder<br /> +Year after year, in grief and glee,<br /> +Year after year, with oaken tree;<br /> +And yet betweenwhiles my laudator<br /> +In terms astonishing to me—<br /> +To the Right Reverend The Spectator<br /> +I here, a humble dedicator,<br /> +Bring the last apples from my tree.</p> +<p class="poetry">In tones of love, in tones of warning,<br /> +She hailed me through my brief career;<br /> +And kiss and buffet, night and morning,<br /> +Told me my grandmamma was near;<br /> +Whether she praised me high and clear<br /> +Through her unrivalled circulation,<br /> +Or, sanctimonious insincere,<br /> +She damned me with a misquotation—<br /> +A chequered but a sweet relation,<br /> +Say, was it not, my granny dear?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>Believe me, granny, altogether<br /> +Yours, though perhaps to your surprise.<br /> +Oft have you spruced my wounded feather,<br /> +Oft brought a light into my eyes—<br /> +For notice still the writer cries.<br /> +In any civil age or nation,<br /> +The book that is not talked of dies.<br /> +So that shall be my termination:<br /> +Whether in praise or execration,<br /> +Still, if you love me, criticise!</p> +<h2>FAREWELL</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Farewell</span>, and when +forth<br /> +I through the Golden Gates to Golden Isles<br /> +Steer without smiling, through the sea of smiles,<br /> +Isle upon isle, in the seas of the south,<br /> +Isle upon island, sea upon sea,<br /> +Why should I sail, why should the breeze?<br /> +I have been young, and I have counted friends.<br /> +A hopeless sail I spread, too late, too late.<br /> +Why should I from isle to isle<br /> +Sail, a hopeless sailor?</p> +<h2><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>THE +FAR-FARERS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> broad sun,<br /> + The bright day:<br /> +White sails<br /> + On the blue bay:<br /> +The far-farers<br /> + Draw away.</p> +<p class="poetry">Light the fires<br /> + And close the door.<br /> +To the old homes,<br /> + To the loved shore,<br /> +The far-farers<br /> + Return no more.</p> +<h2>COME, MY LITTLE CHILDREN, HERE ARE SONGS FOR YOU</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, my little +children, here are songs for you;<br /> +Some are short and some are long, and all, all are new.<br /> +You must learn to sing them very small and clear,<br /> +Very true to time and tune and pleasing to the ear.</p> +<p class="poetry">Mark the note that rises, mark the notes that +fall,<br /> +Mark the time when broken, and the swing of it all.<br /> +So when night is come, and you have gone to bed,<br /> +All the songs you love to sing shall echo in your head.</p> +<h2><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 88</span>HOME +FROM THE DAISIED MEADOWS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Home</span> from the +daisied meadows, where you linger yet—<br /> +Home, golden-headed playmate, ere the sun is set;<br /> +For the dews are falling fast<br /> +And the night has come at last.<br /> +Home with you, home and lay your little head at rest,<br /> +Safe, safe, my little darling, on your mother’s breast.<br +/> +Lullaby, darling; your mother is watching you; she’ll be +your guardian and shield.<br /> +Lullaby, slumber, my darling, till morning be bright upon +mountain and field.<br /> +Long, long the shadows fall.<br /> +All white and smooth at home your little bed is laid.<br /> +All round your head be angels.</p> +<h2>EARLY IN THE MORNING I HEAR ON YOUR PIANO</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Early</span> in the morning +I hear on your piano<br /> +You (at least, I guess it’s you) proceed to learn to +play.<br /> +Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano<br /> +While the birds are singing in the morning of the day.</p> +<h2><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>FAIR +ISLE AT SEA</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fair</span> Isle at +Sea—thy lovely name<br /> +Soft in my ear like music came.<br /> +That sea I loved, and once or twice<br /> +I touched at isles of Paradise.</p> +<h2>LOUD AND LOW IN THE CHIMNEY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Loud</span> and low in the +chimney<br /> + The squalls suspire;<br /> +Then like an answer dwindles<br /> + And glows the fire,<br /> +And the chamber reddens and darkens<br /> + In time like taken breath.<br /> +Near by the sounding chimney<br /> + The youth apart<br /> +Hearkens with changing colour<br /> + And leaping heart,<br /> +And hears in the coil of the tempest<br /> + The voice of love and death.<br /> +Love on high in the flute-like<br /> + And tender notes<br /> +Sounds as from April meadows<br /> + And hillside cotes;<br /> +But the deep wood wind in the chimney<br /> + Utters the slogan of death.</p> +<h2><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>I LOVE +TO BE WARM BY THE RED FIRESIDE</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">love</span> to be warm by +the red fireside,<br /> + I love to be wet with rain:<br /> +I love to be welcome at lamplit doors,<br /> + And leave the doors again.</p> +<h2>AT LAST SHE COMES</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">At</span> last she comes, O +never more<br /> +In this dear patience of my pain<br /> +To leave me lonely as before,<br /> +Or leave my soul alone again.</p> +<h2>MINE EYES WERE SWIFT TO KNOW THEE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Mine</span> eyes were swift +to know thee, and my heart<br /> +As swift to love. I did become at once<br /> +Thine wholly, thine unalterably, thine<br /> +In honourable service, pure intent,<br /> +Steadfast excess of love and laughing care:<br /> +And as she was, so am, and so shall be.<br /> +I knew thee helpful, knew thee true, knew thee<br /> +And Pity bedfellows: I heard thy talk<br /> +<a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>With +answerable throbbings. On the stream,<br /> +Deep, swift, and clear, the lilies floated; fish<br /> +Through the shadows ran. There, thou and I<br /> +Read Kindness in our eyes and closed the match.</p> +<h2>FIXED IS THE DOOM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fixed</span> is the doom; +and to the last of years<br /> +Teacher and taught, friend, lover, parent, child,<br /> +Each walks, though near, yet separate; each beholds<br /> +His dear ones shine beyond him like the stars.<br /> +We also, love, forever dwell apart;<br /> +With cries approach, with cries behold the gulph,<br /> +The Unvaulted; as two great eagles that do wheel in air<br /> +Above a mountain, and with screams confer,<br /> +Far heard athwart the cedars.<br /> + + +Yet the years<br /> +Shall bring us ever nearer; day by day<br /> +Endearing, week by week, till death at last<br /> +Dissolve that long divorce. By faith we love,<br /> +Not knowledge; and by faith, though far removed,<br /> +Dwell as in perfect nearness, heart to heart.<br /> + + +We but excuse<br /> +Those things we merely are; and to our souls<br /> +A brave deception cherish.<br /> +So from unhappy war a man returns<br /> +<a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>Unfearing, +or the seaman from the deep;<br /> +So from cool night and woodlands to a feast<br /> +May someone enter, and still breathe of dews,<br /> +And in her eyes still wear the dusky night.</p> +<h2>MEN ARE HEAVEN’S PIERS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Men</span> are +Heaven’s piers; they evermore<br /> +Unwearying bear the skyey floor;<br /> +Man’s theatre they bear with ease,<br /> +Unfrowning cariatides!<br /> +I, for my wife, the sun uphold,<br /> +Or, dozing, strike the seasons cold.<br /> +She, on her side, in fairy-wise<br /> +Deals in diviner mysteries,<br /> +By spells to make the fuel burn<br /> +And keep the parlour warm, to turn<br /> +Water to wine, and stones to bread,<br /> +By her unconquered hero-head.<br /> +A naked Adam, naked Eve,<br /> +Alone the primal bower we weave;<br /> +Sequestered in the seas of life,<br /> +A Crusoe couple, man and wife,<br /> +With all our good, with all our will,<br /> +Our unfrequented isle we fill;<br /> +<a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>And victor +in day’s petty wars,<br /> +Each for the other lights the stars.<br /> +Come then, my Eve, and to and fro<br /> +Let us about our garden go;<br /> +And, grateful-hearted, hand in hand<br /> +Revisit all our tillage land,<br /> +And marvel at our strange estate,<br /> +For hooded ruin at the gate<br /> +Sits watchful, and the angels fear<br /> +To see us tread so boldly here.<br /> +Meanwhile, my Eve, with flower and grass<br /> +Our perishable days we pass;<br /> +Far more the thorn observe—and see<br /> +How our enormous sins go free—<br /> +Nor less admire, beside the rose,<br /> +How far a little virtue goes.</p> +<h2>THE ANGLER ROSE, HE TOOK HIS ROD</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> angler rose, he +took his rod,<br /> +He kneeled and made his prayers to God.<br /> +The living God sat overhead:<br /> +The angler tripped, the eels were fed</p> +<h2><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>SPRING +CAROL</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> loud by +landside streamlets gush,<br /> +And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush,<br /> + With sun on the meadows<br /> + And songs in the shadows<br /> + Comes again to me<br /> + The gift of the tongues of the +lea,<br /> +The gift of the tongues of meadows.</p> +<p class="poetry">Straightway my olden heart returns<br /> +And dances with the dancing burns;<br /> + It sings with the sparrows;<br /> + To the rain and the (grimy) barrows<br /> + Sings my heart aloud—<br /> + To the silver-bellied cloud,<br /> +To the silver rainy arrows.</p> +<p class="poetry">It bears the song of the skylark down,<br /> +And it hears the singing of the town;<br /> + And youth on the highways<br /> + And lovers in byways<br /> + Follows and sees:<br /> + And hearkens the song of the +leas<br /> +And sings the songs of the highways.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +95</span>So when the earth is alive with gods,<br /> +And the lusty ploughman breaks the sod,<br /> + And the grass sings in the meadows,<br /> + And the flowers smile in the shadows,<br /> + Sits my heart at ease,<br /> + Hearing the song of the leas,<br +/> +Singing the songs of the meadows.</p> +<h2>TO WHAT SHALL I COMPARE HER?</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To</span> what shall I +compare her,<br /> + That is as fair as she?<br /> +For she is fairer—fairer<br /> + Than the sea.<br /> +What shall be likened to her,<br /> + The sainted of my youth?<br /> +For she is truer—truer<br /> + Than the truth.</p> +<p class="poetry">As the stars are from the sleeper,<br /> + Her heart is hid from me;<br /> +For she is deeper—deeper<br /> + Than the sea.<br /> +Yet in my dreams I view her<br /> + Flush rosy with new ruth—<br /> +Dreams! Ah, may these prove truer<br /> + Than the truth.</p> +<h2><a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 96</span>WHEN +THE SUN COMES AFTER RAIN</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> the sun comes +after rain<br /> + And the bird is in the blue,<br /> +The girls go down the lane<br /> + Two by two.</p> +<p class="poetry">When the sun comes after shadow<br /> + And the singing of the showers,<br /> +The girls go up the meadow,<br /> + Fair as flowers.</p> +<p class="poetry">When the eve comes dusky red<br /> + And the moon succeeds the sun,<br /> +The girls go home to bed<br /> + One by one.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when life draws to its even<br /> + And the day of man is past,<br /> +They shall all go home to heaven,<br /> + Home at last.</p> +<h2><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>LATE, +O MILLER</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Late</span>, O miller,<br +/> +The birds are silent,<br /> +The darkness falls.<br /> +In the house the lights are lighted.<br /> +See, in the valley they twinkle,<br /> +The lights of home.<br /> +Late, O lovers,<br /> +The night is at hand;<br /> +Silence and darkness<br /> +Clothe the land.</p> +<h2>TO FRIENDS AT HOME</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To</span> friends at home, +the lone, the admired, the lost<br /> +The gracious old, the lovely young, to May<br /> + The fair, December the beloved,<br /> +These from my blue horizon and green isles,<br /> +These from this pinnacle of distances I,<br /> + The unforgetful, dedicate.</p> +<h2><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>I, +WHOM APOLLO SOMETIME VISITED</h2> +<p class="poetry">I, <span class="smcap">whom</span> Apollo +sometime visited,<br /> +Or feigned to visit, now, my day being done,<br /> +Do slumber wholly; nor shall know at all<br /> +The weariness of changes; nor perceive<br /> +Immeasurable sands of centuries<br /> +Drink of the blanching ink, or the loud sound<br /> +Of generations beat the music down.</p> +<h2>TEMPEST TOSSED AND SORE AFFLICTED</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Tempest</span> tossed and +sore afflicted, sin defiled and care oppressed,<br /> +Come to me, all ye that labour; come, and I will give ye rest.<br +/> +Fear no more, O doubting hearted; weep no more, O weeping eye!<br +/> +Lo, the voice of your redeemer; lo, the songful morning near.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here one hour you toil and combat, sin and +suffer, bleed and die;<br /> +In my father’s quiet mansion soon to lay your burden by.<br +/> +Bear a moment, heavy laden, weary hand and weeping eye.<br /> +Lo, the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom here.</p> +<h2><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>VARIANT FORM OF THE PRECEDING POEM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span> to me, all ye +that labour; I will give your spirits rest;<br /> +Here apart in starry quiet I will give you rest.<br /> +Come to me, ye heavy laden, sin defiled and care opprest,<br /> +In your father’s quiet mansions, soon to prove a welcome +guest.<br /> +But an hour you bear your trial, sin and suffer, bleed and +die;<br /> +But an hour you toil and combat here in day’s inspiring +eye.<br /> +See the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom nigh.</p> +<h2><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>I +NOW, O FRIEND, WHOM NOISELESSLY THE SNOWS</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">now</span>, O friend, +whom noiselessly the snows<br /> +Settle around, and whose small chamber grows<br /> +Dusk as the sloping window takes its load:</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">The kindly hill, as to complete our hap,<br /> +Has ta’en us in the shelter of her lap;<br /> +Well sheltered in our slender grove of trees<br /> +And ring of walls, we sit between her knees;<br /> +A disused quarry, paved with rose plots, hung<br /> +With clematis, the barren womb whence sprung<br /> +The crow-stepped house itself, that now far seen<br /> +Stands, like a bather, to the neck in green.<br /> +A disused quarry, furnished with a seat<br /> +Sacred to pipes and meditation meet<br /> +For such a sunny and retired nook.<br /> +There in the clear, warm mornings many a book<br /> +Has vied with the fair prospect of the hills<br /> +That, vale on vale, rough brae on brae, upfills<br /> +Halfway to the zenith all the vacant sky<br /> +To keep my loose attention. . . .<br /> +Horace has sat with me whole mornings through:<br /> +And Montaigne gossiped, fairly false and true;<br /> +And chattering Pepys, and a few beside<br /> +That suit the easy vein, the quiet tide,<br /> +<a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>The calm +and certain stay of garden-life,<br /> +Far sunk from all the thunderous roar of strife.<br /> +There is about the small secluded place<br /> +A garnish of old times; a certain grace<br /> +Of pensive memories lays about the braes:<br /> +The old chestnuts gossip tales of bygone days.<br /> +Here, where some wandering preacher, blest Lazil,<br /> +Perhaps, or Peden, on the middle hill<br /> +Had made his secret church, in rain or snow,<br /> +He cheers the chosen residue from woe.<br /> +All night the doors stood open, come who might,<br /> +The hounded kebbock mat the mud all night.<br /> +Nor are there wanting later tales; of how<br /> +Prince Charlie’s Highlanders . . .</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">I have had talents, too. In life’s +first hour<br /> +God crowned with benefits my childish head.<br /> +Flower after flower, I plucked them; flower by flower<br /> +Cast them behind me, ruined, withered, dead.<br /> +Full many a shining godhead disappeared.<br /> +From the bright rank that once adorned her brow<br /> +The old child’s Olympus</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">Gone are the fair old dreams, and one by +one,<br /> +<a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>As, one +by one, the means to reach them went,<br /> +As, one by one, the stars in riot and disgrace,<br /> +I squandered what . . .</p> +<p class="poetry">There shut the door, alas! on many a hope<br /> +Too many;<br /> +My face is set to the autumnal slope,<br /> +Where the loud winds shall . . .</p> +<p class="poetry">There shut the door, alas! on many a hope,<br +/> +And yet some hopes remain that shall decide<br /> +My rest of years and down the autumnal slope.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">Gone are the quiet twilight dreams that I<br /> +Loved, as all men have loved them; gone!<br /> +I have great dreams, and still they stir my soul on +high—<br /> +Dreams of the knight’s stout heart and tempered will.<br /> +Not in Elysian lands they take their way;<br /> +Not as of yore across the gay champaign,<br /> +Towards some dream city, towered . . .<br /> +and my . . .<br /> +The path winds forth before me, sweet and plain,<br /> +Not now; but though beneath a stone-grey sky<br /> +November’s russet woodlands toss and wail,<br /> +Still the white road goes thro’ them, still may I,<br /> +Strong in new purpose, God, may still prevail.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">I and my like, improvident sailors!</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +103</span>At whose light fall awaking, all my heart<br /> +Grew populous with gracious, favoured thought,<br /> +And all night long thereafter, hour by hour,<br /> +The pageant of dead love before my eyes<br /> +Went proudly, and old hopes with downcast head<br /> +Followed like Kings, subdued in Rome’s imperial hour,<br /> +Followed the car; and I . . .</p> +<h2>SINCE THOU HAST GIVEN ME THIS GOOD HOPE, O GOD</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Since</span> thou hast +given me this good hope, O God,<br /> +That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod<br /> +And the great woods embower me, and white dawn<br /> +And purple even sweetly lead me on<br /> +From day to day, and night to night, O God,<br /> +My life shall no wise miss the light of love;<br /> +But ever climbing, climb above<br /> +Man’s one poor star, man’s supine lands,<br /> +Into the azure steadfastness of death,<br /> +My life shall no wise lack the light of love,<br /> +My hands not lack the loving touch of hands;<br /> +But day by day, while yet I draw my breath,<br /> +And day by day, unto my last of years,<br /> +I shall be one that has a perfect friend.<br /> +Her heart shall taste my laughter and my tears,<br /> +And her kind eyes shall lead me to the end.</p> +<h2><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>GOD +GAVE TO ME A CHILD IN PART</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">God</span> gave to me a +child in part,<br /> +Yet wholly gave the father’s heart:<br /> +Child of my soul, O whither now,<br /> +Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?</p> +<p class="poetry">You came, you went, and no man wist;<br /> +Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;<br /> +On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb,<br /> +Nor knew the kindly feel of home.</p> +<p class="poetry">My voice may reach you, O my dear—<br /> +A father’s voice perhaps the child may hear;<br /> +And, pitying, you may turn your view<br /> +On that poor father whom you never knew.</p> +<p class="poetry">Alas! alone he sits, who then,<br /> +Immortal among mortal men,<br /> +Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through<br /> +With your dear mother wondered over you.</p> +<h2><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>OVER +THE LAND IS APRIL</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Over</span> the land is +April,<br /> + Over my heart a rose;<br /> +Over the high, brown mountain<br /> + The sound of singing goes.<br /> +Say, love, do you hear me,<br /> + Hear my sonnets ring?<br /> +Over the high, brown mountain,<br /> + Love, do you hear me sing?</p> +<p class="poetry">By highway, love, and byway<br /> + The snows succeed the rose.<br /> +Over the high, brown mountain<br /> + The wind of winter blows.<br /> +Say, love, do you hear me,<br /> + Hear my sonnets ring?<br /> +Over the high, brown mountain<br /> + I sound the song of spring,<br /> + I throw the flowers of spring.<br /> + Do you hear the song of spring?<br /> + Hear you the songs of spring?</p> +<h2><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>LIGHT AS THE LINNET ON MY WAY I START</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Light</span> as the linnet +on my way I start,<br /> +For all my pack I bear a chartered heart.<br /> +Forth on the world without a guide or chart,<br /> +Content to know, through all man’s varying fates,<br /> +The eternal woman by the wayside waits.</p> +<h2>COME, HERE IS ADIEU TO THE CITY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, here is adieu +to the city<br /> + And hurrah for the country again.<br /> +The broad road lies before me<br /> + Watered with last night’s rain.<br /> +The timbered country woos me<br /> + With many a high and bough;<br /> +And again in the shining fallows<br /> + The ploughman follows the plough.</p> +<p class="poetry">The whole year’s sweat and study,<br /> + And the whole year’s sowing time,<br /> +Comes now to the perfect harvest,<br /> + And ripens now into rhyme.<br /> +For we that sow in the Autumn,<br /> + We reap our grain in the Spring,<br /> +And we that go sowing and weeping<br /> + Return to reap and sing.</p> +<h2><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 107</span>IT +BLOWS A SNOWING GALE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">It</span> blows a snowing +gale in the winter of the year;<br /> +The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.<br /> +The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro,<br /> +A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.<br /> + Autumn leaves +and rain,<br /> + The passion of +the gale.</p> +<h2>NE SIT ANCILLÆ TIBI AMOR PUDOR</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">There’s</span> just a +twinkle in your eye<br /> +That seems to say I <i>might</i>, if I<br /> +Were only bold enough to try<br /> + An arm about your waist.<br /> +I hear, too, as you come and go,<br /> +That pretty nervous laugh, you know;<br /> +And then your cap is always so<br /> + Coquettishly displaced.</p> +<p class="poetry">Your cap! the word’s profanely said.<br +/> +That little top-knot, white and red,<br /> +That quaintly crowns your graceful head,<br /> + No bigger than a flower,<br /> +<a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>Is set +with such a witching art,<br /> +Is so provocatively smart,<br /> +I’d like to wear it on my heart,<br /> + An order for an hour!</p> +<p class="poetry">O graceful housemaid, tall and fair,<br /> +I love your shy imperial air,<br /> +And always loiter on the stair<br /> + When you are going by.<br /> +A strict reserve the fates demand;<br /> +But, when to let you pass I stand,<br /> +Sometimes by chance I touch your hand<br /> + And sometimes catch your eye.</p> +<h2>TO ALL THAT LOVE THE FAR AND BLUE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To</span> all that love the +far and blue:<br /> + Whether, from dawn to eve, on foot<br /> +The fleeing corners ye pursue,<br /> + Nor weary of the vain pursuit;<br /> +Or whether down the singing stream,<br /> + Paddle in hand, jocund ye shoot,<br /> +To splash beside the splashing bream<br /> + Or anchor by the willow root:</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +109</span>Or, bolder, from the narrow shore<br /> + Put forth, that cedar ark to steer,<br /> +Among the seabirds and the roar<br /> + Of the great sea, profound and clear;<br /> +Or, lastly if in heart ye roam,<br /> + Not caring to do else, and hear,<br /> +Safe sitting by the fire at home,<br /> + Footfalls in Utah or Pamere:</p> +<p class="poetry">Though long the way, though hard to bear<br /> + The sun and rain, the dust and dew;<br /> +Though still attainment and despair<br /> + Inter the old, despoil the new;<br /> +There shall at length, be sure, O friends,<br /> + Howe’er ye steer, whate’er ye +do—<br /> +At length, and at the end of ends,<br /> + The golden city come in view.</p> +<h2><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 110</span>THOU +STRAINEST THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN FERN</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">(A <span +class="smcap">Fragment</span>)</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> strainest +through the mountain fern,<br /> +A most exiguously thin<br /> + Burn.<br /> +For all thy foam, for all thy din,<br /> +Thee shall the pallid lake inurn,<br /> +With well-a-day for Mr. Swin-<br /> + Burne!<br /> +Take then this quarto in thy fin<br /> +And, O thou stoker huge and stern,<br /> +The whole affair, outside and in,<br /> + Burn!<br /> +But save the true poetic kin,<br /> +The works of Mr. Robert Burn’<br /> +And William Wordsworth upon Tin-<br /> + Tern!</p> +<h2><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>TO +ROSABELLE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> my young lady +has grown great and staid,<br /> +And in long raiment wondrously arrayed,<br /> +She may take pleasure with a smile to know<br /> +How she delighted men-folk long ago.<br /> +For her long after, then, this tale I tell<br /> +Of the two fans and fairy Rosabelle.<br /> +Hot was the day; her weary sire and I<br /> +Sat in our chairs companionably nigh,<br /> +Each with a headache sat her sire and I.</p> +<p class="poetry">Instant the hostess waked: she viewed the +scene,<br /> +Divined the giants’ languor by their mien,<br /> +And with hospitable care<br /> +Tackled at once an Atlantean chair.<br /> +Her pigmy stature scarce attained the seat—<br /> +She dragged it where she would, and with her feet<br /> +Surmounted; thence, a Phaeton launched, she crowned<br /> +The vast plateau of the piano, found<br /> +And culled a pair of fans; wherewith equipped,<br /> +Our mountaineer back to the level slipped;<br /> +And being landed, with considerate eyes,<br /> +Betwixt her elders dealt her double prize;<br /> +The small to me, the greater to her sire.<br /> +As painters now advance and now retire<br /> +<a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 112</span>Before +the growing canvas, and anon<br /> +Once more approach and put the climax on:<br /> +So she awhile withdrew, her piece she viewed—<br /> +For half a moment half supposed it good—<br /> +Spied her mistake, nor sooner spied than ran<br /> +To remedy; and with the greater fan,<br /> +In gracious better thought, equipped the guest.</p> +<p class="poetry">From ill to well, from better on to best,<br /> +Arts move; the homely, like the plastic kind;<br /> +And high ideals fired that infant mind.<br /> +Once more she backed, once more a space apart<br /> +Considered and reviewed her work of art:<br /> +Doubtful at first, and gravely yet awhile;<br /> +Till all her features blossomed in a smile.<br /> +And the child, waking at the call of bliss,<br /> +To each she ran, and took and gave a kiss.</p> +<h2>NOW BARE TO THE BEHOLDER’S EYE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> bare to the +beholder’s eye<br /> +Your late denuded bindings lie,<br /> +Subsiding slowly where they fell,<br /> +A disinvested citadel;<br /> +The obdurate corset, Cupid’s foe,<br /> +The Dutchman’s breeches frilled below.<br /> +Those that the lover notes to note,<br /> +And white and crackling petticoat.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +113</span>From these, that on the ground repose,<br /> +Their lady lately re-arose;<br /> +And laying by the lady’s name,<br /> +A living woman re-became.<br /> +Of her, that from the public eye<br /> +They do enclose and fortify,<br /> +Now, lying scattered as they fell,<br /> +An indiscreeter tale they tell:<br /> +Of that more soft and secret her<br /> +Whose daylong fortresses they were,<br /> +By fading warmth, by lingering print,<br /> +These now discarded scabbards hint.</p> +<p class="poetry">A twofold change the ladies know:<br /> +First, in the morn the bugles blow,<br /> +And they, with floral hues and scents,<br /> +Man their beribboned battlements.<br /> +But let the stars appear, and they<br /> +Shed inhumanities away;<br /> +And from the changeling fashion see,<br /> +Through comic and through sweet degree,<br /> +In nature’s toilet unsurpassed,<br /> +Forth leaps the laughing girl at last.</p> +<h2><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>THE +BOUR-TREE DEN</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Clinkum-clank</span> in the +rain they ride,<br /> +Down by the braes and the grey sea-side;<br /> +Clinkum-clank by stane and cairn,<br /> +Weary fa’ their horse-shoe-airn!</p> +<p class="poetry">Loud on the causey, saft on the sand,<br /> +Round they rade by the tail of the land;<br /> +Round and up by the Bour-Tree Den,<br /> +Weary fa’ the red-coat men!</p> +<p class="poetry">Aft hae I gane where they hae rade<br /> + And straigled in the gowden brooms—<br /> +Aft hae I gane, a saikless maid,<br /> + And O! sae bonny as the bour-tree blooms!</p> +<p class="poetry">Wi’ swords and guns they wanton there,<br +/> + Wi’ red, red coats and braw, braw plumes.<br +/> +But I gaed wi’ my gowden hair,<br /> + And O! sae bonny as the bour-tree blooms!</p> +<p class="poetry">I ran, a little hempie lass,<br /> +In the sand and the bent grass,<br /> +Or took and kilted my small coats<br /> +To play in the beached fisher-boats.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>I waded deep and I ran fast,<br /> +I was as lean as a lugger’s mast,<br /> +I was as brown as a fisher’s creel,<br /> +And I liked my life unco weel.</p> +<p class="poetry">They blew a trumpet at the cross,<br /> +Some forty men, both foot and horse.<br /> +A’body cam to hear and see,<br /> +And wha, among the rest, but me.<br /> +My lips were saut wi’ the saut air,<br /> +My face was brown, my feet were bare<br /> +The wind had ravelled my tautit hair,<br /> +And I thought shame to be standing there.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ae man there in the thick of the throng<br /> +Sat in his saddle, straight and strong.<br /> +I looked at him and he at me,<br /> +And he was a master-man to see.<br /> +. . . And who is this yin? and who is yon<br /> +That has the bonny lendings on?<br /> +That sits and looks sae braw and crouse?<br /> +. . . Mister Frank o’ the Big House!</p> +<p class="poetry">I gaed my lane beside the sea;<br /> +The wind it blew in bush and tree,<br /> +The wind blew in bush and bent:<br /> +Muckle I saw, and muckle kent!</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>Between the beach and the sea-hill<br /> +I sat my lane and grat my fill—<br /> +I was sae clarty and hard and dark,<br /> +And like the kye in the cow park!</p> +<p class="poetry">There fell a battle far in the north;<br /> +The evil news gaed back and forth,<br /> +And back and forth by brae and bent<br /> +Hider and hunter cam and went:<br /> +The hunter clattered horse-shoe-airn<br /> +By causey-crest and hill-top cairn;<br /> +The hider, in by shag and shench,<br /> +Crept on his wame and little lench.</p> +<p class="poetry">The eastland wind blew shrill and snell,<br /> +The stars arose, the gloaming fell,<br /> +The firelight shone in window and door<br /> +When Mr. Frank cam here to shore.<br /> +He hirpled up by the links and the lane,<br /> +And chappit laigh in the back-door-stane.<br /> +My faither gaed, and up wi’ his han’!<br /> +. . . Is this Mr. Frank, or a beggarman?</p> +<p class="poetry">I have mistrysted sair, he said,<br /> +But let me into fire and bed;<br /> +Let me in, for auld lang syne,<br /> +And give me a dram of the brandy wine.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>They hid him in the Bour-Tree Den,<br /> +And I thought it strange to gang my lane;<br /> +I thought it strange, I thought it sweet,<br /> +To gang there on my naked feet.<br /> +In the mirk night, when the boats were at sea,<br /> +I passed the burn abune the knee;<br /> +In the mirk night, when the folks were asleep,<br /> +I had a tryst in the den to keep.</p> +<p class="poetry">Late and air’, when the folks were +asleep,<br /> +I had a tryst, a tryst to keep,<br /> +I had a lad that lippened to me,<br /> +And bour-tree blossom is fair to see!</p> +<p class="poetry">O’ the bour-tree leaves I busked his +bed,<br /> +The mune was siller, the dawn was red:<br /> +Was nae man there but him and me—<br /> +And bour-tree blossom is fair to see!</p> +<p class="poetry">Unco weather hae we been through:<br /> +The mune glowered, and the wind blew,<br /> +And the rain it rained on him and me,<br /> +And bour-tree blossom is fair to see!</p> +<p class="poetry">Dwelling his lane but house or hauld,<br /> +Aft he was wet and aft was cauld;<br /> +I warmed him wi’ my briest and knee—<br /> +And bour-tree blossom is fair to see!</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>There was nae voice of beast ae man,<br /> +But the tree soughed and the burn ran,<br /> +And we heard the ae voice of the sea:<br /> +Bour-tree blossom is fair to see!</p> +<h2>SONNETS</h2> +<h3>I.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Nor</span> judge me light, +tho’ light at times I seem,<br /> +And lightly in the stress of fortune bear<br /> +The innumerable flaws of changeful care—<br /> +Nor judge me light for this, nor rashly deem<br /> +(Office forbid to mortals, kept supreme<br /> +And separate the prerogative of God!)<br /> +That seaman idle who is borne abroad<br /> +To the far haven by the favouring stream.<br /> +Not he alone that to contrarious seas<br /> +Opposes, all night long, the unwearied oar,<br /> +Not he alone, by high success endeared,<br /> +Shall reach the Port; but, winged, with some light breeze<br /> +Shall they, with upright keels, pass in before<br /> +Whom easy Taste, the golden pilot, steered.</p> +<h3><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>II.</h3> +<p class="poetry">So shall this book wax like unto a well,<br /> +Fairy with mirrored flowers about the brim,<br /> +Or like some tarn that wailing curlews skim,<br /> +Glassing the sallow uplands or brown fell;<br /> +And so, as men go down into a dell<br /> +(Weary with noon) to find relief and shade,<br /> +When on the uneasy sick-bed we are laid,<br /> +We shall go down into thy book, and tell<br /> +The leaves, once blank, to build again for us<br /> +Old summer dead and ruined, and the time<br /> +Of later autumn with the corn in stook.<br /> +So shalt thou stint the meagre winter thus<br /> +Of his projected triumph, and the rime<br /> +Shall melt before the sunshine in thy book.</p> +<h3>III.</h3> +<p class="poetry">I have a hoard of treasure in my breast;<br /> +The grange of memory steams against the door,<br /> +Full of my bygone lifetime’s garnered store—<br /> +Old pleasures crowned with sorrow for a zest,<br /> +Old sorrow grown a joy, old penance blest,<br /> +Chastened remembrance of the sins of yore<br /> +That, like a new evangel, more and more<br /> +Supports our halting will toward the best.<br /> +Ah! what to us the barren after years<br /> +<a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>May +bring of joy or sorrow, who can tell?<br /> +O, knowing not, who cares? It may be well<br /> +That we shall find old pleasures and old fears,<br /> +And our remembered childhood seen thro’ tears,<br /> +The best of Heaven and the worst of Hell.</p> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<p class="poetry">As starts the absent dreamer when a train,<br +/> +Suddenly disengulphed below his feet,<br /> +Roars forth into the sunlight, to its seat<br /> +My soul was shaken with immediate pain<br /> +Intolerable as the scanty breath<br /> +Of that one word blew utterly away<br /> +The fragile mist of fair deceit that lay<br /> +O’er the bleak years that severed me from death.<br /> +Yes, at the sight I quailed; but, not unwise<br /> +Or not, O God, without some nervous thread<br /> +Of that best valour, Patience, bowed my head,<br /> +And with firm bosom and most steadfast eyes,<br /> +Strong in all high resolve, prepared to tread<br /> +The unlovely path that leads me toward the skies.</p> +<h3>V.</h3> +<p class="poetry">Not undelightful, friend, our rustic ease<br /> +To grateful hearts; for by especial hap,<br /> +Deep nested in the hill’s enormous lap,<br /> +With its own ring of walls and grove of trees,<br /> +<a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>Sits, in +deep shelter, our small cottage—nor<br /> +Far-off is seen, rose carpeted and hung<br /> +With clematis, the quarry whence she sprung,<br /> +O mater pulchra filia pulchrior,<br /> +Whither in early spring, unharnessed folk,<br /> +We join the pairing swallows, glad to stay<br /> +Where, loosened in the hills, remote, unseen,<br /> +From its tall trees, it breathes a slender smoke<br /> +To heaven, and in the noon of sultry day<br /> +Stands, coolly buried, to the neck in green.</p> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<p class="poetry">As in the hostel by the bridge I sate,<br /> +Nailed with indifference fondly deemed complete,<br /> +And (O strange chance, more sorrowful than sweet)<br /> +The counterfeit of her that was my fate,<br /> +Dressed in like vesture, graceful and sedate,<br /> +Went quietly up the vacant village street,<br /> +The still small sound of her most dainty feet<br /> +Shook, like a trumpet blast, my soul’s estate.<br /> +Instant revolt ran riot through my brain,<br /> +And all night long, thereafter, hour by hour,<br /> +The pageant of dead love before my eyes<br /> +Went proudly; and old hopes, broke loose again<br /> +From the restraint of wisely temperate power,<br /> +With ineffectual ardour sought to rise.</p> +<h3><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>VII.</h3> +<p class="poetry">The strong man’s hand, the snow-cool head +of age,<br /> +The certain-footed sympathies of youth—<br /> +These, and that lofty passion after truth,<br /> +Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sage<br /> +Or the great men of former years, he needs<br /> +That not unworthily would dare to sing<br /> +(Hard task!) black care’s inevitable ring<br /> +Settling with years upon the heart that feeds<br /> +Incessantly on glory. Year by year<br /> +The narrowing toil grows closer round his feet;<br /> +With disenchanting touch rude-handed time<br /> +The unlovely web discloses, and strange fear<br /> +Leads him at last to eld’s inclement seat,<br /> +The bitter north of life—a frozen clime.</p> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<p class="poetry">As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land,<br /> +Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes<br /> +Turned thro’ the casement toward the westering skies;<br /> +Or as untamed Elijah, that red brand<br /> +Among the starry prophets; or that band<br /> +And company of Faithful sanctities<br /> +Who in all times, when persecutions rise,<br /> +Cherish forgotten creeds with fostering hand:<br /> +Such do ye seem to me, light-hearted crew,<br /> +<a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>O turned +to friendly arts with all your will,<br /> +That keep a little chapel sacred still,<br /> +One rood of Holy-land in this bleak earth<br /> +Sequestered still (our homage surely due!)<br /> +To the twin Gods of mirthful wine and mirth.</p> +<p class="poetry">About my fields, in the broad sun<br /> +And blaze of noon, there goeth one,<br /> +Barefoot and robed in blue, to scan<br /> +With the hard eye of the husbandman<br /> +My harvests and my cattle. Her,<br /> +When even puts the birds astir<br /> +And day has set in the great woods,<br /> +We seek, among her garden roods,<br /> +With bells and cries in vain: the while<br /> +Lamps, plate, and the decanter smile<br /> +On the forgotten board. But she,<br /> +Deaf, blind, and prone on face and knee,<br /> +Forgets time, family, and feast,<br /> +And digs like a demented beast.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tall as a guardsman, pale as the east at +dawn,<br /> +Who strides in strange apparel on the lawn?<br /> +Rails for his breakfast? routs his vassals out<br /> +(Like boys escaped from school) with song and shout?<br /> +<a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>Kind and +unkind, his Maker’s final freak,<br /> +Part we deride the child, part dread the antique!<br /> +See where his gang, like frogs, among the dew<br /> +Crouch at their duty, an unquiet crew;<br /> +Adjust their staring kilts; and their swift eyes<br /> +Turn still to him who sits to supervise.<br /> +He in the midst, perched on a fallen tree,<br /> +Eyes them at labour; and, guitar on knee,<br /> +Now ministers alarm, now scatters joy,<br /> +Now twangs a halting chord, now tweaks a boy.<br /> +Thorough in all, my resolute vizier<br /> +Plays both the despot and the volunteer,<br /> +Exacts with fines obedience to my laws,<br /> +And for his music, too, exacts applause.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Adorner of the uncomely—those<br /> +Amidst whose tall battalions goes<br /> +Her pretty person out and in<br /> +All day with an endearing din,<br /> +Of censure and encouragement;<br /> +And when all else is tried in vain<br /> +See her sit down and weep again.<br /> +She weeps to conquer;<br /> +She varies on her grenadiers<br /> +From satire up to girlish tears!</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>Or rather to behold her when<br /> +She plies for me the unresting pen,<br /> +And when the loud assault of squalls<br /> +Resounds upon the roof and walls,<br /> +And the low thunder growls and I<br /> +Raise my dictating voice on high.</p> +<p class="poetry">What glory for a boy of ten<br /> +Who now must three gigantic men<br /> +And two enormous, dapple grey<br /> +New Zealand pack-horses array<br /> +And lead, and wisely resolute<br /> +Our day-long business execute<br /> +In the far shore-side town. His soul<br /> +Glows in his bosom like a coal;<br /> +His innocent eyes glitter again,<br /> +And his hand trembles on the rein.<br /> +Once he reviews his whole command,<br /> +And chivalrously planting hand<br /> +On hip—a borrowed attitude—<br /> +Rides off downhill into the wood.</p> +<p class="poetry">I meanwhile in the populous house apart<br /> +Sit snugly chambered, and my silent art<br /> +Uninterrupted, unremitting ply<br /> +Before the dawn, by morning lamplight, by<br /> +<a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 126</span>The glow +of smelting noon, and when the sun<br /> +Dips past my westering hill and day is done;<br /> +So, bending still over my trade of words,<br /> +I hear the morning and the evening birds,<br /> +The morning and the evening stars behold;<br /> +So there apart I sit as once of old<br /> +Napier in wizard Merchiston; and my<br /> +Brown innocent aides in home and husbandry<br /> +Wonder askance. What ails the boss? they ask.<br /> +Him, richest of the rich, an endless task<br /> +Before the earliest birds or servants stir<br /> +Calls and detains him daylong prisoner?<br /> +He whose innumerable dollars hewed<br /> +This cleft in the boar and devil-haunted wood,<br /> +And bade therein, from sun to seas and skies,<br /> +His many-windowed, painted palace rise<br /> +Red-roofed, blue-walled, a rainbow on the hill,<br /> +A wonder in the forest glade: he still,</p> +<p class="poetry">Unthinkable Aladdin, dawn and dark,<br /> +Scribbles and scribbles, like a German clerk.<br /> +We see the fact, but tell, O tell us why?<br /> +My reverend washman and wise butler cry.<br /> +Meanwhile at times the manifold<br /> +Imperishable perfumes of the past<br /> +And coloured pictures rise on me thick and fast:<br /> +<a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 127</span>And I +remember the white rime, the loud<br /> +Lamplitten city, shops, and the changing crowd;<br /> +And I remember home and the old time,<br /> +The winding river, the white moving rhyme,<br /> +The autumn robin by the river-side<br /> +That pipes in the grey eve.</p> +<p class="poetry">The old lady (so they say), but I<br /> +Admire your young vitality.<br /> +Still brisk of foot, still busy and keen<br /> +In and about and up and down.</p> +<p class="poetry">I hear you pass with bustling feet<br /> +The long verandahs round, and beat<br /> +Your bell, and “Lotu! Lotu!” cry;<br /> +Thus calling our queer company,<br /> +In morning or in evening dim,<br /> +To prayers and the oft mangled hymn.</p> +<p class="poetry">All day you watch across the sky<br /> +The silent, shining cloudlands ply,<br /> +That, huge as countries, swift as birds,<br /> +Beshade the isles by halves and thirds,<br /> +Till each with battlemented crest<br /> +Stands anchored in the ensanguined west,<br /> +<a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>An Alp +enchanted. All the day<br /> +You hear the exuberant wind at play,<br /> +In vast, unbroken voice uplift,<br /> +In roaring tree, round whistling clift.</p> +<h2>AIR OF DIABELLI’S</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Call</span> it to mind, O +my love.<br /> +Dear were your eyes as the day,<br /> +Bright as the day and the sky;<br /> +Like the stream of gold and the sky above,<br /> +Dear were your eyes in the grey.<br /> +We have lived, my love, O, we have lived, my love!<br /> +Now along the silent river, azure<br /> +Through the sky’s inverted image,<br /> +Softly swam the boat that bore our love,<br /> +Swiftly ran the shallow of our love<br /> +Through the heaven’s inverted image,<br /> +In the reedy mazes round the river.<br /> +See along the silent river,</p> +<p class="poetry">See of old the lover’s shallop steer.<br +/> +Berried brake and reedy island,<br /> +Heaven below and only heaven above.<br /> +Through the sky’s inverted image<br /> +Swiftly swam the boat that bore our love.<br /> +<a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 129</span>Berried +brake and reedy island,<br /> +Mirrored flower and shallop gliding by.<br /> +All the earth and all the sky were ours,<br /> +Silent sat the wafted lovers,<br /> +Bound with grain and watched by all the sky,<br /> +Hand to hand and eye to . . . eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">Days of April, airs of Eden,<br /> +Call to mind how bright the vanished angel hours,<br /> +Golden hours of evening,<br /> +When our boat drew homeward filled with flowers.<br /> +O darling, call them to mind; love the past, my love.<br /> +Days of April, airs of Eden.<br /> +How the glory died through golden hours,<br /> +And the shining moon arising;<br /> +How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.<br /> +Age and winter close us slowly in.</p> +<p class="poetry">Level river, cloudless heaven,<br /> +Islanded reed mazes, silver weirs;<br /> +How the silent boat with silver<br /> +Threads the inverted forest as she goes,<br /> +Broke the trembling green of mirrored trees.<br /> +O, remember, and remember<br /> +How the berries hung in garlands.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still in the river see the shallop floats.<br +/> +Hark! Chimes the falling oar.<br /> +<a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>Still in +the mind<br /> +Hark to the song of the past!<br /> +Dream, and they pass in their dreams.</p> +<p class="poetry">Those that loved of yore, O those that loved of +yore!<br /> +Hark through the stillness, O darling, hark!<br /> +Through it all the ear of the mind</p> +<p class="poetry">Knows the boat of love. Hark!<br /> +Chimes the falling oar.</p> +<p class="poetry">O half in vain they grew old.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now the halcyon days are over,<br /> +Age and winter close us slowly round,<br /> +And these sounds at fall of even<br /> +Dim the sight and muffle all the sound.<br /> +And at the married fireside, sleep of soul and sleep of fancy,<br +/> +Joan and Darby.<br /> +Silence of the world without a sound;<br /> +And beside the winter faggot</p> +<p class="poetry">Joan and Darby sit and dose and dream and +wake—<br /> +Dream they hear the flowing, singing river,<br /> +See the berries in the island brake;<br /> +Dream they hear the weir,<br /> +See the gliding shallop mar the stream.<br /> +Hark! in your dreams do you hear?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +131</span>Snow has filled the drifted forest;<br /> +Ice has bound the . . . stream.<br /> +Frost has bound our flowing river;<br /> +Snow has whitened all our island brake.</p> +<p class="poetry">Berried brake and reedy island,<br /> +Heaven below and only heaven above azure<br /> +Through the sky’s inverted image<br /> +Safely swam the boat that bore our love.<br /> + Dear were your eyes as the day,<br /> + Bright ran the stream, bright hung the sky above.<br +/> +Days of April, airs of Eden.<br /> +How the glory died through golden hours,<br /> +And the shining moon arising,<br /> +How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.<br /> + Bright were your eyes in the night:<br /> + We have lived, my love;<br /> + O, we have loved, my love.<br /> +Now the . . . days are over,<br /> +Age and winter close us slowly round.</p> +<p class="poetry">Vainly time departs, and vainly<br /> +Age and winter come and close us round.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hark the river’s long continuous +sound.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hear the river ripples in the reeds.</p> +<p class="poetry">Lo, in dreams they see their shallop<br /> +Run the lilies down and drown the weeds<br /> +<a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 132</span>Mid the +sound of crackling faggots.<br /> +So in dreams the new created<br /> +Happy past returns, to-day recedes,<br /> +And they hear once more,</p> +<p class="poetry">From the old years,<br /> +Yesterday returns, to-day recedes,<br /> +And they hear with aged hearing warbles</p> +<p class="poetry">Love’s own river ripple in the weeds.<br +/> +And again the lover’s shallop;<br /> +Lo, the shallop sheds the streaming weeds;<br /> +And afar in foreign countries<br /> +In the ears of aged lovers.</p> +<p class="poetry">And again in winter evens<br /> +Starred with lilies . . . with stirring weeds.<br /> +In these ears of aged lovers<br /> +Love’s own river ripples in the reeds.</p> +<h2>EPITAPHIUM EROTII</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Here</span> lies Erotion, +whom at six years old<br /> +Fate pilfered. Stranger (when I too am cold,<br /> +Who shall succeed me in my rural field),<br /> +To this small spirit annual honours yield!<br /> +Bright be thy hearth, hale be thy babes, I crave<br /> +And this, in thy green farm, the only grave.</p> +<h2><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 133</span>DE +M. ANTONIO</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> Antoninus, in a +smiling age,<br /> +Counts of his life the fifteenth finished stage.<br /> +The rounded days and the safe years he sees,<br /> +Nor fears death’s water mounting round his knees.<br /> +To him remembering not one day is sad,<br /> +Not one but that its memory makes him glad.<br /> +So good men lengthen life; and to recall<br /> +The past is to have twice enjoyed it all.</p> +<h2>AD MAGISTRUM LUDI</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">(<span class="smcap">Unfinished +Draft</span>.)</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> in the sky<br /> +And on the hearth of<br /> + Now in a drawer the direful cane,<br /> + That sceptre of the . . . reign,<br /> + And the long hawser, that on the back<br /> + Of Marsyas fell with many a whack,<br /> + Twice hardened out of Scythian hides,<br /> + Now sleep till the October ides.</p> +<p class="poetry">In summer if the boys be well.</p> +<h2><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>AD +NEPOTEM</h2> +<p class="poetry">O <span class="smcap">Nepos</span>, twice my +neigh(b)our (since at home<br /> +We’re door by door, by Flora’s temple dome;<br /> +And in the country, still conjoined by fate,<br /> +Behold our villas standing gate by gate),<br /> +Thou hast a daughter, dearer far than life—<br /> +Thy image and the image of thy wife.<br /> +Thy image and thy wife’s, and be it so!</p> +<p class="poetry">But why for her, [ neglect the flowing / O +Nepos, leave the ] can</p> +<p class="poetry">And lose the prime of thy Falernian?<br /> +Hoard casks of money, if to hoard be thine;<br /> +But let thy daughter drink a younger wine!<br /> +Let her go rich and wise, in silk and fur;</p> +<p class="poetry">Lay down a [ bin that shall / vintage to ] grow +old with her;</p> +<p class="poetry">But thou, meantime, the while the batch is +sound,<br /> +With pleased companions pass the bowl around;<br /> +Nor let the childless only taste delights,<br /> +For Fathers also may enjoy their nights.</p> +<h2><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>IN +CHARIDEMUM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span>, Charidemus, who +my cradle swung,<br /> +And watched me all the days that I was young;<br /> +You, at whose step the laziest slaves awake,<br /> +And both the bailiff and the butler quake;<br /> +The barber’s suds now blacken with my beard,<br /> +And my rough kisses make the maids afeared;<br /> +But with reproach your awful eyebrows twitch,<br /> +And for the cane, I see, your fingers itch.<br /> +If something daintily attired I go,<br /> +Straight you exclaim: “Your father did not so.”<br /> +And fuming, count the bottles on the board<br /> +As though my cellar were your private hoard.<br /> +Enough, at last: I have done all I can,<br /> +And your own mistress hails me for a man.</p> +<h2>DE LIGURRA</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> fear, +Ligurra—above all, you long—<br /> +That I should smite you with a stinging song.<br /> +This dreadful honour you both fear and hope—<br /> +Both all in vain: you fall below my scope.<br /> +The Lybian lion tears the roaring bull,<br /> +He does not harm the midge along the pool.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>Lo! if so close this stands in your regard,<br /> +From some blind tap fish forth a drunken barn,<br /> +Who shall with charcoal, on the privy wall,<br /> +Immortalise your name for once and all.</p> +<h2>IN LUPUM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Beyond</span> the gates +thou gav’st a field to till;<br /> +I have a larger on my window-sill.<br /> +A farm, d’ye say? Is this a farm to you,<br /> +Where for all woods I spay one tuft of rue,<br /> +And that so rusty, and so small a thing,<br /> +One shrill cicada hides it with a wing;<br /> +Where one cucumber covers all the plain;<br /> +And where one serpent rings himself in vain<br /> +To enter wholly; and a single snail<br /> +Eats all and exit fasting to the pool?<br /> +Here shall my gardener be the dusty mole.<br /> +My only ploughman the . . . mole.<br /> +Here shall I wait in vain till figs be set,<br /> +And till the spring disclose the violet.<br /> +Through all my wilds a tameless mouse careers,<br /> +And in that narrow boundary appears,<br /> +Huge as the stalking lion of Algiers,<br /> +Huge as the fabled boar of Calydon.<br /> +And all my hay is at one swoop impresst<br /> +By one low-flying swallow for her nest,<br /> +<a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>Strip +god Priapus of each attribute<br /> +Here finds he scarce a pedestal to foot.<br /> +The gathered harvest scarcely brims a spoon;<br /> +And all my vintage drips in a cocoon.<br /> +Generous are you, but I more generous still:<br /> +Take back your farm and stand me half a gill!</p> +<h2>AD QUINTILIANUM</h2> +<p class="poetry">O <span class="smcap">chief</span> director of +the growing race,<br /> +Of Rome the glory and of Rome the grace,<br /> +Me, O Quintilian, may you not forgive<br /> +Before from labour I make haste to live?<br /> +Some burn to gather wealth, lay hands on rule,<br /> +Or with white statues fill the atrium full.<br /> +The talking hearth, the rafters sweet with smoke,<br /> +Live fountains and rough grass, my line invoke:<br /> +A sturdy slave, not too learned wife,<br /> +Nights filled with slumber, and a quiet life.</p> +<h2>DE HORTIS JULII MARTIALIS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">My</span> Martial owns a +garden, famed to please,<br /> +Beyond the glades of the Hesperides;<br /> +Along Janiculum lies the chosen block<br /> +Where the cool grottos trench the hanging rock.<br /> +The moderate summit, something plain and bare,<br /> +Tastes overhead of a serener air;<br /> +<a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>And +while the clouds besiege the vales below,<br /> +Keeps the clear heaven and doth with sunshine glow.<br /> +To the June stars that circle in the skies<br /> +The dainty roofs of that tall villa rise.<br /> +Hence do the seven imperial hills appear;<br /> +And you may view the whole of Rome from here;<br /> +Beyond, the Alban and the Tuscan hills;<br /> +And the cool groves and the cool falling rills,<br /> +Rubre Fidenæ, and with virgin blood<br /> +Anointed once Perenna’s orchard wood.<br /> +Thence the Flaminian, the Salarian way,<br /> +Stretch far broad below the dome of day;<br /> +And lo! the traveller toiling towards his home;<br /> +And all unheard, the chariot speeds to Rome!<br /> +For here no whisper of the wheels; and tho’<br /> +The Mulvian Bridge, above the Tiber’s flow,<br /> +Hangs all in sight, and down the sacred stream<br /> +The sliding barges vanish like a dream,<br /> +The seaman’s shrilling pipe not enters here,<br /> +Nor the rude cries of porters on the pier.<br /> +And if so rare the house, how rarer far<br /> +The welcome and the weal that therein are!<br /> +So free the access, the doors so widely thrown,<br /> +You half imagine all to be your own.</p> +<h2><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 139</span>AD +MARTIALEM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Go</span>(<span +class="smcap">d</span>) knows, my Martial, if we two could be<br +/> +To enjoy our days set wholly free;<br /> +To the true life together bend our mind,<br /> +And take a furlough from the falser kind.<br /> +No rich saloon, nor palace of the great,<br /> +Nor suit at law should trouble our estate;<br /> +On no vainglorious statues should we look,<br /> +But of a walk, a talk, a little book,<br /> +Baths, wells and meads, and the veranda shade,<br /> +Let all our travels and our toils be made.<br /> +Now neither lives unto himself, alas!<br /> +And the good suns we see, that flash and pass<br /> +And perish; and the bell that knells them cries:<br /> +“Another gone: O when will ye arise?”</p> +<h2>IN MAXIMUM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Wouldst</span> thou be +free? I think it not, indeed;<br /> +But if thou wouldst, attend this simple rede:<br /> +[When quite contented / Thou shall be free when] thou canst dine +at home<br /> +And drink a small wine of the march of Rome;<br /> +When thou canst see unmoved thy neighbour’s plate,<br /> +And wear my threadbare toga in the gate;<br /> +<a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 140</span>When +thou hast learned to love a small abode,<br /> +And not to choose a mistress <i>à la mode</i>:<br /> +When thus contained and bridled thou shalt be,<br /> +Then, Maximus, then first shalt thou be free.</p> +<h2>AD OLUM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Call</span> me not rebel, +though [ here at every word / in what I sing ]<br /> +If I no longer hail thee [ King and Lord / Lord and King ]<br /> +I have redeemed myself with all I had,<br /> +And now possess my fortunes poor but glad.<br /> +With all I had I have redeemed myself,<br /> +And escaped at once from slavery and pelf.<br /> +The unruly wishes must a ruler take,<br /> +Our high desires do our low fortunes make:<br /> +Those only who desire palatial things<br /> +Do bear the fetters and the frowns of Kings;<br /> +Set free thy slave; thou settest free thyself.</p> +<h2>DE CŒNATIONE MICÆ</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Look</span> round: You see +a little supper room;<br /> +But from my window, lo! great Cæsar’s tomb!<br /> +And the great dead themselves, with jovial breath<br /> +Bid you be merry and remember death.</p> +<h2><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>DE +EROTIO PUELLA</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">This</span> girl was +sweeter than the song of swans,<br /> +And daintier than the lamb upon the lawns<br /> +Or Curine oyster. She, the flower of girls,<br /> +Outshone the light of Erythræan pearls;<br /> +The teeth of India that with polish glow,<br /> +The untouched lilies or the morning snow.<br /> +Her tresses did gold-dust outshine<br /> +And fair hair of women of the Rhine.<br /> +Compared to her the peacock seemed not fair,<br /> +The squirrel lively, or the phoenix rare;<br /> +Her on whose pyre the smoke still hovering waits;<br /> +Her whom the greedy and unequal fates<br /> +On the sixth dawning of her natal day,<br /> +My child-love and my playmate—snatcht away.</p> +<h2>AD PISCATOREM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">For</span> these are sacred +fishes all<br /> +Who know that lord that is the lord of all;<br /> +Come to the brim and nose the friendly hand<br /> +That sways and can beshadow all the land.<br /> +Nor only so, but have their names, and come<br /> +When they are summoned by the Lord of Rome.<br /> +<a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 142</span>Here +once his line an impious Lybian threw;<br /> +And as with tremulous reed his prey he drew,<br /> +Straight, the light failed him.<br /> +He groped, nor found the prey that he had ta’en.<br /> +Now as a warning to the fisher clan<br /> +Beside the lake he sits, a beggarman.<br /> +Thou, then, while still thine innocence is pure,<br /> +Flee swiftly, nor presume to set thy lure;<br /> +Respect these fishes, for their friends are great;<br /> +And in the waters empty all thy bait.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BILLING AND +SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, ENGLAND.</span></p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 441-h.htm or 441-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/4/441 + + + +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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