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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Florence On A Certain Night - And Other Poems - -Author: Coningsby Dawson - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52455] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLORENCE ON A CERTAIN NIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -FLORENCE ON A CERTAIN NIGHT -AND OTHER POEMS - -By Coningsby Dawson - -New York: Henry Holt and Company - -1914 - - - -TO - -_JOHN KEATS_ - -WHO, IN EXCUSE FOR A LIKE OCCASION, - -WROTE: - -_"WERE I DEAD, I SHOULD LIKE A BOOK DEDICATED TO ME."_ - - -A WARNING TO THE READER - -Here thou shalt find grave thought--the shade of thine Most is of earth, -some little all divine. By hands God-given, mine, this tower doth -thrive; Thine are the clouds which round my turrets drive. - - - - -FLORENCE ON A CERTAIN NIGHT - - -I - -(October, 1504) - - _[Someone sings in the street below]_ - - Fair-fleeting Youth must snatch at happiness, - - He knows not if To-morrow curse or bless, - - Nor round what bend upon his travel-way - - The bandit Death lurks armed--of Yesterday - - His palely featured griefs he knows too well; - - Therefore with jests To-day, come Heaven, come Hell, - - He plucks with either hand what joys he may. - - - - Joy is a flower - - White-leafd or red, - - None knows which colour - - Till it is dead: - - White gives forth fragrance - - Pure as God's breath; - - Red in its dying - - Yields the gatherer death. - - _[Leonardo da Vinci speaks]_ - - So 'tis Lorenzo's song they sing to-night, - - That haunting song which long years since he sang - - When, with his gallants through the torch- - - smirched dusk, - - He laughing rode toward the Carnival, - - And young girls loosened all abroad their hair - - And flung up petals through the cool moonlight, - - Some of which falling rested on his face, - - Some of which falling covered up his eyes; - - And girls there were who kissed his drooping - - hands - - And clasped his stirrups, begging him to stay, - - To halt one little moment, stay with them: - - _"Life is so short. Delay with us a while."_ - - But he rode on, and sang of joy and love. - - - - Lorenzo il Magnifico is dead; - - His lips are silent, and he now could halt - - Oh, endlessly, if one of those fair maids - - Should come to him imploring him to stay. - - For twelve slow years within the sacristy - - Of San Lorenzo he has never waked, - - But has the rest he could not find in life-- - - Ungrateful now, because postponed too long. - - If one should steal to him from out the past - - And bending down should whisper low his name, - - He would not hearken. True, she would be old, - - As are all maids of that spent gala-night; - - So, if he heard her, he would only smile, - - For he loved only beauty in his day. - - -II - - _[ Someone sings in the street below]_ - - Fair-fleeting Youth wends ever to the West, - - He, like the sun, too soon must sink to rest. - - Stars of Remorse, fast-following on his track, - - Moon of Old-Age, can nothing turn ye back f - - Ah, soon the golden Day'll have spent his breath! - - Then comes the drear, eventless Night of Death - - When Youth, no longer young, all joys must lack. - - _[Leonardo da Vinci speaks]_ - - "Then comes the drear, eventless Night of Death!" - - - 'Tis true, for who in Tuscany to-day - - Dares breathe the Medicean name aloud? - - When a man dies, the watchers by the bed - - Close down his eye-lids, so is he once dead; - - Twice dead is he whose mem'ry men dang down - - To dark oblivion when his soul is fled. - - Florence forgets her singer, but his song - - Still echoes through her streets on autumn nights, - - And pausing at the door of some old friend, - - Bids him remember all the hope he had - - In spacious days, before Lorenzo died . . . - - - - It seems Lorenzo's soul crept back to earth - - Re-seeking Joy he coveted in life, - - Seeking the happiness he never found. - - Yet, was his labour lost? Did he not find? - - He sang one song which lingers in men's hearts - - And, having sung, he surely solved his quest. - - Who of Joy's seekers finds the flower itself, - - And plucking, knows the snow-white from the red? - - Not I, for I've been truant in my search; - - I've pluck't the mauve of Honour and the green - - Of cloistered Knowledge, yellow of Romance, - - The blue which feigns a deep Tranquillity, - - Scarlet of Boldness, purple of Despair, - - Orange of Idleness which flaunts the sun, - - And indigo of wizard Heresy-- - - And gray which gives to Weariness unrest. - - Perchance I've clutched within this eager hand - - The Death of Joy--the fatal flower of blood. - - I know not. This I know, I have not trod - - The quiet vale where grows the flower of white. - - - - Like an unwise distiller of perfume - - I've blended each new fragrance as it came, - - Made something perfect for a day--two days; - - Then ruined all by adding something fresh. - - First I would be a scholar, so I learned - - Latin and Greek, and Mathematic Law. - - Then I would be a poet, so I wrote - - "Chi non puô quel che vuol, quel che puo voglia; - - Che quel che non si puô folle è volere. - - Adunque saggio l'uomo è da tenere, - - Che da quel che non puô sua vogler toglia." - - I could not live the wisdom which I taught, - - So I must be a master of design - - And studied sculpture with Verocchio, - - Verocchio who had his dusty shop - - On Amo's banks in grand Lorenzo's time. - - Thither, while yet a boy, I did resort - - And out of terra-cotta caused to smile - - Women whose beauty ne'er hath been surpassed, - - Nor equalled in the flesh for Man's delight. - - - - Still not content, I'd be an architect - - And renovate this battered world for God, - - Hurling across steep valleys, mile on mile - - Through cloudland, spans of marble aqueduct; - - Leading chained rivers from the mountain-heights - - Down to the plains where men are wont to toil, - - There I would cause these Samsons of the crags, - - Scenting the sea, whose waves are unconfined, - - To shake themselves as once at other times, - - And rush in frenzy forward turning mills. - - So would each city echo to the hum - - Of loom, and web, and swift-revolving wheels. - - Then, when prosperity had reached its height - - And merhants cavilled at each other's gains, - - I'd frame for them the iron beasts of war - - And hound than on to harry and destroy-- - - And when our world was fallen, who but I, - - Da Vinci, should stand forth to raise it up? - - These were my dreams; I thought myself divine-- - - All this was long ago, when I was young. - - - - Next I would make me wings, and I would fly - - As do the morning birds straight t'ward the sun, - - Piercing the mists, rise far above the clouds - - To seek out where God walks and whom He loves. - - I made me wings, but had not strength to fly. - - Still discontent and tethered to this world, - - I strove to wrench the secret out of Life, - - And swept the far horizon of the stars - - If there, at least, I might discern some sign - - To tell me whence souls come, to where depart. - - I, in my overhaste, pursued too far, - - Seeking that vague and fabled Paradise - - Where Adam and his many sons sing chaunts, - - While Eve walks through them pale and deified. - - I missed my track in pathless swamps of Time, - - I chilled my hands against the cold-dead stars, - - And lost my mind in unremembered Past, - - Remote from God and out of human sight. - - Lastly I took to painting down my thoughts, - - And pictured for the King of Portugal - - That fatal meadow in the Eden Land, - - Where Man's first sweet and deadly sin was - - wrought. - - I, in this art, all others did excel; - - Yet with success I was not satisfied - - But hourly craved for the impossible-- - - To fashion men as real as flesh and blood. - - To-day I'd toil with fire in my brain - - And paint away the faults of yesterday, - - And shadow forth the dreams of yesternight, - - And so on through long months and weary years - - Till, losing heart, I'd toss my brush aside - - Leaving the thing unfinished as it was-- - - Adding this broken promise to my last. - - - - There's Raphael with his wide unanxious eyes, - - He does his work as though it were his play; - - He never talks of fame, but sings the while - - He paints the Virgin with Lord Jesus Christ-- - - Goes to the door, throws kisses to a child, - - Goes to the window, smiles to some slim girl, - - And so returns and flashes kiss and smile - - Into the canvas quaking 'neath his brush, - - Creating thus a masterpiece sublime. - - And then there's surly Michelangelo - - Who chisels _Davids_ through the death-long night, - - And paints _Last Judgments_ through the livelong - - day, - - Pantingly running, pace on pace with Fame, - - Racing dean-limbed toward his goal in life. - - - - But I, poor changeling, wake, and dream, and - - wake, - - And dream again, retarded by desire. - - I was eight years in painting at Milan - - A fresco for the monks of Dominic-- - - And even this I hear's begun to fade; - - It was a picture of that sacred feast - - Our Saviour gave before he went to die. - - Ten years I laboured on the Sforza horse - - Which should have been my monument through - - Time. - - I built it huge and true in every line, - - Studied anatomy to make it strong, - - And set on top Francesco with his sword; - - But, when the time for casting had arrived - - And I had done one perfect work at last, - - The hungry French across the border came, - - Bringing their Gascons, who got drunk and shot - - The clay of my poor Titan into space. - - - - So were ten years of strenuous effort lost; - - And now I'm painting Mona Lisa's face . . . - - - _[Someone sings in the street below]_ - - Seize then thy gladness ere it turns to dust, - - Youth can make all acts lovely, all deeds just; - - Heed not the tyrant, lean Morality, - - But steer thy passion down to the purple sea, - - Through winding hills where Beauty hath her home - - And calls to travellers, until thou come - - Unto the Deep of Lovés Satiety. - - - _[Leonardo da Vinci speaks]_ - - - - Ha-ha, my passion to the purple sea! - - And yet, I'd go if Mona Lisa'd come. - - We two, close-seated in one crimson boat - - Would drift the yellow waters of Romance, - - Glide down its stream through hills of mystery - - Where Beauty roams, of which the song hath - - sung, - - Nor ever speak of where that tide should end. - - We'd dip no oars, we'd set no hurrying sail, - - But swept on the full current of desire - - Would steer our course with unimpeded hands, - - Watching the pleasure in each other's eyes. - - Ah well, 'tis vain to talk! Two-thirds of life - - Till now I've spent in spotless purity-- - - Affection's been retarded by desire - - As has my work; my dreams have far excelled - - The beauty God moulds into human shape. - - The sweet perfection of the womankind - - Who haunt my brain, has held me back from love. - - This . . . this was so till Mona Lisa came. - - - - Four years I've painted when it was her day, - - A day of mist, of mingled rain and sun; - - Four years before me silently she's sat - - And smiled to see me strive to catch her smile - - In liquid paint, with canvas and with brush, - - So that her eyes, searching, inscrutable, - - May question her sons' sons when she is dust. - - I only just begin to know her face. - - To learn its sudden changes I have paid - - The skill'dest men in all our Tuscan vales, - - Harpists, lute-players, masters of the viol, - - To make soft music while on her I gaze. - - For her content I ordered to be made - - A fountain in the courtyard of my house - - Whose waters falling, ere they dash to spray, - - Smite on smooth spheres, which thus revolve and - - hum - - The chaunt the winds toll in our upland pines. - - About the fountain's brink I caused to plant - - Pale iris roots and dew-blanched narcissi, - - Since white's the flower which most of all she loves. - - Also about the pillars, where the sun - - Lengthens the shadows when the evening fades, - - I've sculptured . . . - - - _[Someone sings in the street below]_ - - Passion's a flower - - While-leaf d or red-- - - None knows which colour - - Till it is dead; - - Love gives forth fragrance - - Pure as God's breath; - - Lust in Us dying - - Yields the gatherer death. - - - _[Leonardo da Vinci speaks]_ - - - - And had Lorenzo sung those words to me - - His voice had had no more familiar sound; - - Had he turned back from lordly Paradise - - To urge me on in my pursuit of Joy, - - Knowing its flower almost within my hand, - - He had not said those words more earnestly. - - Lo, even now he stands without and I, - - By leaning forward, may discerrn his face. - - - _[Rises, goes to the window; looks out]_ - - - - Nothing; the sky is covered with a cloud, - - The moon's obscured and all the stars are dead. - - - _[Cries, as though hailing someone]_ - - - - Lorenzo, ho Lorenzo! Are you there? - - I heard your singing. I am come, old friend. - - - _[Listens; then to himself]_ - - - - What's over there? I thought a shadow stirred. - - There, over there! Beneath Piero's wall. - - Hath Pagan Plato triumphed over Christ - - And sent his chief apostle back to us? - - Or hath Lord Christ in his compassion wrought - - That kindness Dives craved of Abraham, - - Sending Lorenzo here from off his breast - - To bid me snatch my Joy ere Death befalls? - - No . . . no, the moon shines through and makes - - all plain. - - This is some old Florentine Lazarus-- - - A soldier crippled in our Pisan wars - - Who begs upon San Marco's steps by day. - - Hi, here's a scudot Catch it in your cap. - - D'you hear me fellow?_ - - Strange, he does not stay, - - But hastens on as if he . . . there, he's gone. - - Perchance he's mad or deaf, or blind and mad. - - And yet methought that, when he turned to go, - - His face looked upward, so it caught the light; - - And it was like to one . . . - - - _[Comes hack from the window and sits down]_ - - - - Ah well, - - I'll think no more of spirits and of ghosts; - - Let the dead past go bury up its dead. - - I'll think of Mona Lisa's face alone . . . - - - - _Of Mona Lisa's face. - - - - Just now I said - - One thing I knew, that I had never trod - - The quiet vale where grows the flower of white. - - 'Twas false. Four years I've lived and wandered - - there - - And seen my flower, but feared to break its stem. - - Dear God, thou knowest how often I have prayed - - That this temptation might not make me fall-- - - Yea, I have asked for death's deliverance. - - Is this thy answer, that it is no sin - - For men to gather that which most they love? - - So be it. Silence answers every prayer; - - Thy voice hath spoken--I am satisfied. - - - - Men say in Florence, while I watched her face, - - That I bewitched her, so her very eyes - - Grew in expression like unto my own, - - So that her hands took on my restless ways, - - So that her mouth hath altered in its smile - - And, when I paint her face, I paint my own. - - Then let that be God's answer to my prayer. - - - - Ah, she is like me, she is very like! - - God made her for the sister of my soul; - - He would not have His plans jerked out of joint - - By one mistake, because she chanced to wed - - Her bankrupt father's sternest creditor - - To save his name--and this, some years ago; - - Therefore He sent His singer here to-night - - That he, in words I loved, might tell me so. - - Certainly God is good and very great. - - - 'Tis said her husband hath returned this night, - - Passing at sundown through the southern gate - - From Naples, where last spring he went to sell - - Certain Sicilian cattle which he had. - - (He sold, I'll warrant, at the highest price), - - So, if the husband's come, then _she_ is home. - - - - That day she left me, 'twas an April day, - - One of her days of mingled mist and sun, - - I well remember how she paused and gazed - - Full in my eyes, as if forbidden love - - Were vainly seeking words which shame denied; - - Then suddenly she stooped, and her lips brushed - - My forehead. God gave gentle words ; she prayed, - - "May the Christ-Mother have you in her care"-- - - Nothing besides. Passionately I rose up, - - Willing for her sake to be crucified; - - Stretched forth my arms to snatch her to my - - breast, - - And found her gone--the courtyard filled with sun. - - Six months have passed since then--six tortured - - months! - - There hangs her portrait, it has felt no brush - - Since on that April mom she went away; - - And now the empty courtyard's filled with night, - - And back to Florence Mona Lisa's come. - - - - To-morrow I will go to her and say, - - "Lisa, here take my life for it is yours. - - Do with it as you will; but do not stay - - To add, subtract, and reckon up its cost. - - Act a brave part and, if your love's like mine, - - We need not fear; for what we lose we gain, - - And, though we gain much, still to-day's to-day - - And, while we tarry, one day's love is lost." - - - - Ah, would that I might speak those words to-night - - For, while I halt, another night is gone-- - - Crush'd to a mem'ry 'neath the heel of Time. - - I'm minded even now to venture forth, - - To go to her, although the hour is late; - - And through the darkness, when she hears me call, - - Only to say to her this one word, "_Come_." - - Thus unto men speak Birth, Fate, Love and Death, - - The four great captains of this brief campaign; - - Casting a shadow at the soul's tent-door, - - Each in his turn beckons and whispers, "_Come_." - - And I to her am Death, Birth, Love and Fate; - - And she to me is Love, and only Love. - - I'll go to her. How can I longer wait? - - Her nearer presence sets my blood aflame; - - I'll seize my flower . . . - - - _[Commences to descend the stairway, then pauses]_ - - - Ah, the song again! - - - _[Someone sings in the street below]_ - - Let naught of fear Youth's laughing steps delay, - - Aye, gather gladness; pluck it while ye may-- - - We burn not if To-morrow curse or Hess. - - Who cares--one red bud more, one white bud less? - - Only we burn that love was meant to spend, - - And this we burn, that each life hath its end; - - Therefore, O Youth, snatch all thy happiness. - - - _[Descends slowly; passes out into the street]_ - - - _[Leonardo da Vinci speaks]_ - - - - There's truth in every line that song hath sung. - - The hand that wrote it's twelve years turned to - - dust, - - The brain's become a hollow nothingness-- - - A little grayness lying in a skull; - - And yet Lorenzo guides my steps to-night - - Unto my love as truly as in life. - - Oh wonderful and strange that men should die - - And, being buried, still should talk with us! - - When _I_ am free, and future ages come - - To stand amazed before the girl I loved, - - Then I will speak with them, say thus and thus, - - And, though departed, never shall be dead. - - For this I'll paint her portrait till 'tis done, - - Singing, like Raphael, from gray dawn to dusk, - - Pausing to kiss her forehead, lips, throat, eyes, - - Learning their beauty, where mine own lips touch; - - So I, like Angelo, with measured stride - - Will race with Fame, until the prize is won. - - Yea, men attain most only when they love. - - "_But steer thy passion down to the purple sea,_" - - (How went the song?) "_Until at length thou come - - Unto the Deep of Love's Satiety_." - - Truly, that is the way that brave men love: - - Reckless of blame, despising consequence, - - Not counting on a better day to come, - - Seizing with warrior-hands their Joy at once. - - And love in life is everything to us, - - And I have failed because I have not loved. - - But, when her soft arms go about my neck - - And I grow pale before her great desire, - - A new success will pass into my blood - - And I'll be strong . . . - - - - Ah, someone's coming up! - - I'll draw into the shadow of this gate; - - Perhaps he'll pass. I seem to know his tread. - - No good! He's seen me; I must seek the light. - - Is't you Vitelli? - - - _[Vitelli]_ - - Leonardo? - - - _[Leonardo da Vinci]_ - - Yes. - - - _[Vitelli speaks]_ - - - - Well, how's the painting? Is her portrait done? - - Whose portrait? Why, the one of Lisa's face. - - Not finished! What, 'tis only just begun? - - Well, that's a pity. Four years seems some time - - To gape before a canvas with a brush. - - Beg pardon. This is what I meant to say: - - That since you could not paint her in her life, - - You'll scarce be more successful now she's - - dead . . . - - You did not know? . . . _Why, she's been dead - - three months._ - - - - -CENTURIES AGO - - - - In the solemn twilight, centuries ago, - - God walked in His Garden, all His stars below; - - God was very lonely, so He caused to grow - - Man, in some ways like Him, centuries ago. - - - - Man roamed through the twilight, centuries ago, - - Always thinking, thinking--wishing he might know - - Who it was that made him; then God caused to - - grow - - Woman, who was half-God, centuries ago. - - - - These, within God's Garden, centuries ago, - - Stood beneath the twilight calling very low - - To some voice to answer, whereby they might - - know - - Had God really made them--centuries ago. - - - - Thus whilst they were listening, centuries ago, - - Solemn feet drew nigh them, treading very slow; - - Solemn hands so touched them that they caused to - - grow - - Something that was All-God, centuries ago. - - - - Then they left God's Garden, centuries ago. - - Scarcely dared to question, never hoped to know, - - Who it was that touched them, causing thus to - - grow - - That small child, so like them--centuries ago. - - - - -HIS MOTHER - - - - I bore him in my breast-- - - Yes, it was I. - - My mother's hands impressed - - Stars of the sky - - On to his infant sight, - - As we watched night by night, - - Jesus and I. - - - - I taught him how to pray; - - Yes, it was I - - Gave him the words to say. - - God drawing nigh, - - We two walked hand-in-hand - - Close to God's Hidden Land, - - Jesus and I. - - - - This little son of mine - - Fell from the sky; - - God made him all divine-- - - Yet there was I. - - I came to bear his loss, - - He came to take his cross-- - - He came to die. - - - - Thus we went hand-in-hand, - - My son and I, - - Up to God's Hidden Land-- - - Went up to die. - - He entered in to reign - - And came not back again-- - - Yet there was I. - - - - -PERHAPS - - - - "Perhaps tomorrow, but not today. - - I am young and life is long," she said; - - And she smiled to herself and tossed her head-- - - She scarcely cared that he went away. - - Perhaps tomorrow, but not today." - - - - Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps today," - - She laughed; and the green things rose from bed - - And lived their moment. But still she said, - - Till the sky grew old and the world grew gray, - - Perhaps tomorrow, but not today." - - - - Neither tomorrow, nor yet today." - - Night fell. She heard the voice and sped, - - And followed his steps, till she found Love dead. - - The forest muttered, as it would say, - - Neither tomorrow, nor any day." - - - - -BELLUM AMORIS - - - - Oh, the romance of it, - - Soul-thrilling trance of it, - - Though lives are lost which no love can restore! - - Hearts ride a-prance at it, - - Taking their chance at it-- - - Wing-thriven hearts to the seat of Love's War. - - Sorrow is theirs in store; - - This they know well before, - - Yet do they ride from the West and the East - - Hoping for this at least, - - Out from the West and East, - - Glory with death at the end of the war. - - - - Should they return again, - - Life sings the old refrain, - - Mystery, madness and mirth at the core: - - Patter of falling rain, - - Dawnings which wax and wane, - - Life which is war at the end of Love's War. - - Thunders have ceased to roar, - - Terrors they knew before - - When they rode out from the East and the West. - - Though passions will not rest, - - Love, which is always best, - - Honours brave lips at the end of the war. - - - - -QUEEN MARY OF HEAVEN - - - - She sits in God's garden, - - Queen Mary of Heaven, - - Where birds sing their steven - - Hid in the cool tree; - - And all the gold day-time, - - From morning till even, - - Earth's little strange children - - Play round her knee. - - - - Earth's lost little children - - She binds to her bosom, - - Each wind-gathered blossom, - - Till mothers are free - - To steal to God's Garden - - And name them and loose them-- - - In Eden's green garden, - - 'Neath Mary's tree. - - - - -A BRAVE LIFE - - - - The arid loneliness of life he knew, - - The doubtful darkness of the starless night, - - And fear lest he should never see the sight - - Of dawn and God the Father breaking through. - - Brave offspring of a disenchanted age - - He lived as though illusion were not dead; - - His was the pain of faiths discredited - - Which with new knowledge civil battles wage. - - - - In all his deeds for righteous quests he stood - - And we, who watched his face and heard his voice, - - Dreamed of the Christ; we had not any choice, - - In loving him we knew that God was good-- - - - - We knew. And thus, beneath the hooded sky, - - Lightly we followed where his pain had made - - A path for us; if one should fall, he stayed - - To raise him, lest his frailer hope should die. - - - - Ofttimes when summer's day had ceased to shine - - And on our London roofs the moon looked down, - - We two would wander through the gas-lit town - - Speaking in whispers of the things divine; - - - - Or in love's stillness, high above the strife, - - We found our spirits strangely catching fire, - - And told of that "_ unspeakable desire - - After the knowledge of the buried life._" - - - - He knows its secret now; the morning mist - - Drifts up the road where his last footprint lies; - - And I, as ever when a Christ-man dies, - - Stand awe-struck, asking, "Was not this the - - Christ?" - - - - His soul craved God. I think we always knew - - He would be with us but a little while. - - Night vanished; dawn broke--when he saw God - - smile - - Back like a homing-bird to God he flew. - - - - -THE MOON-MOTHER - - - - The world is a child who roams all day - - Through windswept meadows of gold and gray. - - - - The gold flowers fade; he foils to sleep, - - And night is his cradle wide and deep. - - - - The moon-mother creeps from behind God's throne - - And steals up the skies to protect her own. - - - - She leans her breast 'gainst his cradle-rim - - While her small star-children gaze down on him. - - - - Stars are his brothers; clouds his dreams; - - His mother's arms are the pale moon-beams. - - - - When meadows again grow gold and gray, - - He wakes from sleep and runs forth to play. - - - - But every night from behind God's throne - - The moon-mother steals to protect her own. - - - - -TO A YOUNG GIRL WHO SAID SHE WAS NOT BEAUTIFUL - - - - It's not her hair and it's not her feet, - - Nor the way she walks with her head held high; - - It's not because her eye-brows meet - - Like a bird's wings over a glimpse of sky; - - And it isn't her voice like April bloom - - Rustling through an orchard's gloom-- - - It's none of these; not her wide gray eye, - - Nor her crumpled mouth like a rose-bud red - - Round which the snows of the jasmine spread. - - - - Though her long white hands - - Are like lilies of Lent, - - Palely young and purely bent - - O'er her breast, where God stands, - - It's none of these. - - - - Flowers and trees - - With her to compare - - Are too little rare. - - - - Though the grass yearns up to touch her feet, - - She is loved for this--she is sweet, sweet, sweet. - - - - -HALLOWE'EN - - -_Hark to the patter of the rain, - - Voices of dead things come again: - - Feet that rustle the lush wet grass, - - Lips that mutter, "Alas! Alas!" - - And shadows that grope o'er my window-pane._ - - - - Poor outcast souls, you saw my light - - And thought that I, on such a night, - - Would pity take and bid you in - - To warm your hands, so palely thin, - - Before my fire which blazeth bright. - - - - You come from hells of ice-cold clay - - So pent that, striving every way, - - You may not stir the coffin-lid; - - And well you know that, if you did, - - Darkness would come and not the day. - - - - Darkness! With you 'tis ever dark; - - No joy of skyward-mounting lark - - Or blue of swallow on the wing - - Can penetrate and comfort bring - - You, where you lie all cramp'd and stark. - - - - Deep sunk beneath the secret mould, - - You hear the worm his length unfold - - And slime across your frail roof-plank, - - And tap, and vanish, like the rank - - Foul memory of a sin untold. - - - - And this your penance in the tomb: - - To weave upon the mind's swift loom - - White robes, to garb remorsefully - - A _Better Life_--which may not be - - Or, when it comes, may seal your doom. - - - - Thus, side by side, through all the year, - - Yet just apart, you wake and hear, - - As men on land the ocean's strum, - - Your Dead World's hushed delirium - - Which, sounding distant, yet is near. - - - - So near that, could he lean aside, - - The bridegroom well might touch his bride - - And reach her flesh, which once was fair, - - And, slow across the pale lips where - - He kissed her, feel his fingers glide. - - - - So distant, that he can but weep - - Whene'er she moans his name in sleep: - - A cold-grown star, with light all spent, - - She gropes the abyssmal firmament. - - He hears her surging in the Deep. - - - - Ever throughout the year 'tis thus - - Till drones the dream-toned Angelus - - Of Hallowe'en; then, underground, - - Unto dead ears its voice doth sound - - Like Christ's voice, crying, "_Lazarus_." - - - - Palsied with haste the dead men rise - - Groaning, because their unused eyes - - Can scarce endure Earth's blackest night; - - It wounds them as 'twere furious light - - And stars were flame-clouds in the skies. - - - - What tenderness and sad amaze - - Must grieve lost spirits when they gaze - - Beneath a withered moon, and view - - The ancient happiness they knew-- - - The live, sweet world and all its ways! - - - - Ho, Deadmen! for a night you're free - - Till Dawn leads back Captivity. - - To make your respite seem more dear - - Mutter throughout your joy this fear: - - - - "Who knows, within the coming year, - - That God, our gaoler, may not die; - - Then, who'll remember where we lief - - Who then will come to set us free f - - Through all the ages this may be - - Our final night of liberty." - - - - Aye, hoard your moments miserly. - - - - And yet .... and yet, it is His rain - - That drives against my window-pane. - - Oh, surely all Earth's dead have rest - - And stretch at peace in God's own breast, - - And never can return again! - - - - And yet . . . . - - - - -UNSEEN - - - - Oh mother, why are you weeping - - When aLl the world's asleeping? - - Rest ye, rest ye, mother, - - I am near, dear, near. - - Not beneath the moon-drenched grass - - Do I turn to hear you pass-- - - You would see me walk beside you, if your eyes - - saw dear. - - - - Oh mother, why are you crying? - - There was no loss in dying. - - Rest ye, rest ye, mother, - - Have no fear, no fear. - - Still long hangs my golden hair, - - But the body that I wear - - Treads more kindly and more lightly, could you - - hear, dear, hear. - - - - She has stayed her eyes from weeping; - - She is sleeping, sweetly sleeping. - - Rest ye, weary mother, - - I am here, dear, here. - - - - Now the dawn-wind fans her cheek, - - And she knows not that I speak-- - - But my arms are warm about her, could her eyes - - see clear. - - - - -WHY THEY LOVED HIM - - - - So kindly was His love to us, - - (We had not heard of love before), - - That all our life grew glorious - - When He had halted at our door. - - - - So meekly did He love us men, - - Though blind we were with shameful sin, - - He touched our eyes with tears, and then - - Led God's tall angels flaming in. - - - - He dwelt with us a little space, - - As mothers do in childhood's years; - - And still we can discern His face - - Wherever Joy or Love appears. - - - - He made our virtues all His own, - - And lent them grace we could not give; - - And now our world seems His alone, - - And while we live He seems to live. - - - - He took our sorrows and our pain, - - And hid their torture in His breast; - - Till we received them back again - - To find on each His grief impressed. - - - - He clasped our children in His arms, - - And showed us where their beauty shone; - - He took from us our gray alarms, - - And put Death's icy armor on. - - - - So gentle were His ways with us - - That crippled souls had ceased to sigh; - - On them He laid His hands, and thus - - They gloried at His passing by. - - - - Without reproof or word of blame, - - As mothers do in childhood's years, - - He kissed our lips, in spite of shame, - - And stayed the passage of our tears. - - - - So tender was His love to us, - - (We had not learnt to love before), - - That we grew like to Him, and thus - - Men sought His grace in us once more. - - - - April fields and England's flowers, - - English friends and April showers, - - April voices o'er the sea - - Calling, calling unto me: - - - - Oh, why tarry, why delay! - - Hither lies the meadow-way; - - No such meadows shalt thou see, - - Oh, come back to Arcady." - - - - Happy English Arcady - - Thou art calling, calling me - - Through thin flutes as frail as Pan - - Fingered, when long since he ran - - - - Careless as these foreign flowers, - - Trailing through these tropic bowers - - All their largess of gold leaf, - - Piling splendors sheaf on sheaf. - - - - Some there be who think Pan dead, - - Say his nymphs and flutings sped; - - I know better, I have seen - - Where his racing feet have been. - - - - Still I hear the dead god's voice-- - - England's; Had my soul the choice, - - It should wade through starry bloom - - Knee-deep to the brown-burnt broom. - - - - April fields and April flowers, - - April friends and April showers, - - England shouting o'er the sea, - - Calling, calling unto me. - - - - -CHILDISH TRAVELLING - - - - Ah, little child, as you lie in my breast, - - Leaning your hair of gold close to my face, - - Flushed in the gathering glow of the West, - - Where shall we travel--to what joyous place? - - Shall we refashion our castles in Spain, - - Or sail to the Indies with Sinbad again, - - Or noiselessly drift to where tired stars wane-- - - Shall it be Africa, Sinbad or Spain? - - Speak, little child, and together we'll go - - Back to the musical dreamlands we know. - - - - Dear little child, you have wandered to rest. - - While you are sleeping I wonder and think - - Where you will go, and what land will be best - - Treading for such baby feet, and I shrink. - - Should they be hillsides of laughing and song, - - Or gardens of mercy and righting of wrong, - - Of weeping, or triumph, or love growing strong, - - Journeys of shouting, of sorrow or song? - - I can but love you and kiss your gold hair, - - Happy in hoping that Christ may be there. - - - - -THE IVORY LATCH - - - - Rattle the Ivory Latch of Love - - And who will unbar the gate? - - Ask no questions, my dearest love, - - But wait--wait--wait. - - - - Ah, will she be haughty Isabeau, - - Pale Isodore, or Kate? - - _Hush, dearest dear, some day you'll know, - - Be not importunate._ - - - - Perchance I might love Isodore, - - I think I could love Kate; - - I have no fears for Isabeau - - Should she unbar the gate. - - _Perchance she may be Isabeau, - - Perhaps she will be Kate; - - But which, dear heart, you'll never know, - - Till you have learned to wait._ - - - - -THE ONCE SUNG SONG - - - - Christ along the Road to Fame, - - When all birds were singing, - - Pluck't white lilies as He came, - - Set the blue-bells ringing; - - Poppies flared in strident flame - - When they heard His singing. - - - - Further up the Road to Fame - - Birds grew still in sorrow; - - Though His feet were very lame - - Courage did He borrow, - - Singing as He onward came, - - Dreaming of the morrow. - - - - Crimsoned by the Road of Fame - - Christ passed sick and dying. - - Through the hedges, red with shame, - - Crippled men there lying, - - Seeing how He singing came, - - Marvelled at their sighing. - - - - Distant down the Road to Fame, - - When all else ceased singing, - - Messengers of music came-- - - Little echoes winging - - Withered hearts with wings of flame-- - - Fragments of Christ's singing. - - - - -SPRING - - - _Sing, sing, - - Spring and birth! - - A maid shall be mother of all the earth._ - - - - Winter's bones lie bare and bleak, - - Scattered white on the mountain peak. - - - - Through stark woods the Madonna Spring - - Glides with her unborn offering. - - - - Where she treads dead flowers stir - - And raise their heads to gaze after her, - - - - And trees make dense their boughs with green - - That her motherhood may not be seen. - - - - Summer lies hid 'neath her girlish breast; - - Till her babe is bom she shall find no rest. - - - - Yet is she glad in her wandering - - And weaves meek songs 'gainst her mothering. - - _Birth, birth, - - Lave and mirth! - - Spring is Madonna of all the earth_. - - - - -A LULLABY - - - - Son of God, thou little child - - O'er whose sleep the Virgin smiled, - - Guard us, though this night be wild, - - From Lilith--Lilith. - - - - Guard us, though our watch be slack, - - Guard us, though the night be black, - - Though this night all stars should lack - - From Lilith--Lilith. - - - - Stay her steps from drawing nigh, - - Kiss my baby lest he cry, - - And she hear him, and he die - - From Lilith--Lilith. - - - - Son of God, thou little child - - O'er whose sleep the Virgin smiled, - - May his soul be unbeguiled - - By Lilith--Lilith. - - - - -UNANSWERABLE QUESTIONS - - - - Is there light of moon or sun - - In the land where thou hast gone? - - - - Does the rush of wind and rain - - Smite thy woodlands green again? - - - - Do dawn-birds rise up and sing, - - Sunrise. Sunrise," heralding? - - - - Dost thou fear, as once, the stark - - Hours of panther-footed dark? - - - - Oh, little maiden, sweetly frail, - - Naught can these empty words avail. - - - - For thee I clasp God's mantle fast, - - Praying till night is overpast. - - - - -THE HILL-TOWER - - -_A ROMANCE_ - - - - _"Bianca of the yellow hair, - - With witch-face white as ivory, - - Yield to our might that we may bear - - Thy body back to Rimini."_ - - - - And thus the foemen cried all day - - And strove to daunt with fierce display - - Of armoured strength her maiden heart, - - So that with them she might depart - - From out that hill-tower where with three - - She'd held the pass right fearlessly-- - - So that with them she might depart - - To shameful death in Rimini. - - - - Bianca, child of Abramo - - The despot lord of Reggio, - - Had set our country-side on flame - - With the binning torch of her beauty's fame, - - And a deadman's hate of her deadly name. - - For she had gazed with cold gray eyes - - On Rufo--he now starkly lies - - Deep in a sculptured sepulchre, - - Smitten with death through love of her. - - Rufo, the heir of Ugo Count - - Qf Rimini and vast amount - - Of warrior-men and chivalry, - - Had come to claim her haughtily; - - But had scorched his soul in her golden hair. - - As a wounded beast creeps to his lair, - - So he vilely died by slow degrees - - Of heart-break and a sore disease, - - Till his eyes grew glazed and ceased to stir, - - And his life gave out for his love of her. - - - - Then Ugo swore a mighty oath, - - By God's own Christ and by Christ's truth, - - Though I go unarmed and go alone, - - For my son's death she shall atone. - - I'll take this witch of Reggio - - And through the flames will make her go, - - Till her sweet red lips grow cracked and sere, - - Till her eyes are scarred and mad with fear, - - Till her false young tongue cannot speak love's - - name, - - Till her tender feet drop off with flame-- - - Till she hath naught left that men desire - - She shall pass and pass through consuming fire." - - - - This was the oath which he did swear - - When he cursed her face in his hate of her. - - - - So Ugo rode on Reggio - - And called on the name of Abramo, - - Claiming the body of her who wrought - - Love's enchantments and made distraught - - The souls of the lovers who came to her, - - And told of the oath which he did swear. - - They bade him stand without the wall - - And bore his tidings to the hall. - - From early mom he stood till eve, - - And still no message did receive. - - When night was falling, dusk and dim, - - A city harlot drew nigh to him - - And grayly glimmered along the wall, - - And stopped where the Count was standing tall. - - What news," he cried, "from Abramo, - - Must I raze this city of Reggio?" - - - - He reared his plume to its towering height. - - She leaned far out in the waning light. - - He clutched with one hand his saddle-bow - - And saw her smile when she answered, "No," - - And spat on his face and strained down on - - him. - - - - He rode away 'neath the crescent rim - - Of a new-made moon through an olive-grove, - - And evil passions within him strove; - - In anger he gained the shining sea - - Which silvers the shores of Rimini. - - There he made great stir and called out his men, - - And marshalled their ranks on a level fen, - - And clothed them in black and gave beside - - His knights black stallions which to ride, - - And ordered no singing. "For," said he, - - We mourn one dead in Rimini." - - - - Over the hills he caused to go - - His sombre ranks to Reggio; - - Through pleasant valleys and dew-drenched woods - - His horsemen paced in their sable hoods - - With no shrill of bugle or revelry, - - Like angels of Death's dread company. - - At night they stole to the dty-wall - - And clustered beneath the ramparts tall; - - And hearkened for noise of warlike din, - - And found no breath of strife within; - - And watched for lights in the houses' eyes, - - And saw but the stars within the skies. - - Then as one voice they raised the shout, - - The echo eddied their cry about, - - We call on you men of Reggio - - To give us the daughter of Abramo, - - That she pass and pass through consuming fire - - Till she hath naught left that men desire. - - Give us the daughter of Abramo." - - - - Swift and dread, dark-robed and dim, - - Like thunder about a crater's brim, - - They surged round the city at dead of night - - And chased their shadows in stately flight, - - And swept the circle with beating hoof, - - And flashed their blades on high as proof - - Of the hate they had; nor ceased to moan - - Like men long dead 'neath the charnel-stone, - - Give us the daughter of Abramo." - - - - The dawn was groping up the sky, - - An early bird was heard to cry; - - Forth from the gate with haunted eyes - - Four figures crept in leper's guise, - - And two had long and yellow hair - - And none had face or body bare. - - Swiftly they ran from tree to tree - - And wound their way all secretly - - Through gloom and grove to the rising sun, - - And through that day did onward run - - Till evening came, and they drew at length - - To the lonely might and granite strength - - Of the hill-tower in the narrow pass - - Where refuge and a safety was. - - Then did they lock and bar the door - - And armed themselves, for they knew before - - Another moon should flood the sky - - They would hear Count Ugo's hunting cry, - - Yield to us, daughter of Abramo." - - - - Two frail maids, two boyish men, - - Lovers all in the good days when - - Only the sun was in the sky - - Nor clouds of grief came trailing by; - - Two brave maids and two brave men - - Now, in an hour of darkness, when - - Only the clouds were in the sky - - Loved more dearly than formerly. - - Corrado, page of Bianca's court, - - Had loved his mistress and long had sought - - To speak his heart but feared, for he - - Was a love-child owned of no family. - - Celia was her half-sister, - - Wondrous sweet and like to her, - - So like that she had fled lest she - - For Bianca's self should mistaken be. - - - - Ciro, son of a noble name, - - Loved this girl, therefore he came - - To give his life, if need should be, - - He loved her life so utterly. - - Oft in the hush of a summer's night - - When earth has rest from the savage might - - Of flaming suns, and starlight sheds - - Kindness of dew on flowers' heads, - - And birds have got them away to rest, - - These lads had whispered breast to breast - - Of the joy they felt and happy thrills - - When they heard so much as the shaken frills - - Of these they loved in the passing by; - - And then, betwixt a sob and sigh, - - Had dreamed of a day when they should wed. - - Vain dream! Vain dream! now here, instead, - - With Bianca fled to the hill-side tower - - They should strain and hearken hour by hour, - - With clutching hands and bated breath, - - For man's last bride--the Woman, Death. - - - - And thus they sat a lengthy while - - Till one face lit with a wandering smile: - - Come now, my lords," Bianca said, - - Why sit ye heavy-eyed and sad? - - Men say ye each have loved a maid; - - Surely, I think, I should be glad - - To draw so near for an hour or two - - The maid I loved, though well I knew - - The early mom should find me dead." - - - - Then he who loved her, laughed and said, - - Yea, lady mine, I will be bold - - Too long my love hath lain untold; - - Yet mine was not an unshared sorrow - - But grief for thine and thy sad to-morrow - - If my lord, thy father, fail to send - - His cavalry." - - - - 'God will defend - - His maid," she said, "God will provide. - - But, if to Rimini I ride, - - I shall be glad recalling this, - - That thou did'st not withhold thy kiss - - When all my loves had forsaken me." - - - - Aye love, brief love, sweet love," sighed he, - - Thou art more than life--far more, far more." - - - - So through that night, by the fast-locked door, - - They spake of lové till they drooped to sleep, - - Nor heard at dawn the wary creep - - Of one who traced the outer-wall, - - And found the marks of their foot-fall. - - - - When mists were lifting off the sky - - They sprang from dreams at a sudden cry, - - And gazed with startled eyes around: - - "'Tis naught," they laughed, "'twas a country - - sound-- - - A late-awakened bird did call, - - A wind blew through the water-fall. - - 'Tis naught--'tis naught." - - But afar they heard - - A wail not made by beast or bird; - - A hungry moan, long-drawn and low, - - "Give us the daughter of Abramo." - - - - She stretched her arms along the wall - - And leant aside as she would fall, - - And cowered low 'neath her yellow hair - - As though its weight were too much to bear. - - And, "Oh, sweet God, dear God," she cried, - - Hark how they come! They ride, they ride! - - What ill have I ever done to Thee - - That men should bum my fair body? - - Stoop from Thy skies and succour me." - - - - "Yea, God hath stooped. Fear not, dear heart, - - For I and Ciro will play God's part, - - And Celia sweet shall comfort thee - - While we brand these dogs of Rimini." - - - - With hurried feet they clomb the stair - - And quickly gained the outer air, - - And ghostly saw through the morning haze - - The winding funeral arrays - - Of Ugo's knights and warrior-men. - - Dumbly they watched, and heard often - - Their hunting cry borne down the breeze. - - Corrado laughed with an ugly ease, - - And thus it is he comes with these: - - Strong stallions, lances, Genoese-- - - To take one slim and fragrant girl! - - Oh, Ciro mine, our hands shall hurl - - These valiant fighters from the wall, - - Though we be lads and they be tall. - - If God there be above us all, - - Then love shall give us strength this day." - - - - Down on the stones they kneeled to pray - - That He who brought their lives to be - - Should crown their loves with victory. - - They rose and flew their heraldry: - - An evening star, a saffron sea, - - And on the sea, the star below, - - The dry-shod pard of Reggio. - - - - No answer made the sable foe, - - But round the tower, with footsteps slow, - - Paced till his journeys numbered three; - - Then from the host one silently, - - Thrust on a spear for mockery, - - And raised the head of Abramo. - - Swift round the tower in mirthless rout - - They raced and tossed the words about, - - _"Bianca of the yellow hair, - - With witch-face white as ivory, - - Yield to our might that we may bear - - Thy body back to Rimini,_" - - 'Twas thus the foemen cried all day - - And strove to daunt with fierce display - - Of armoured strength her maiden heart, - - So that with them she might depart - - To shameful death in Rimini. - - - - Bianca, in the vault below, - - Crouched at her prayers and did not know - - This death, and of her father's shame; - - But heard their shouts and heard her name. - - Oh, little hands," she softly sighed, - - Wherefore should ye be crucified, - - What have ye done that men should see - - Naught in your grace, save witchery? - - Oh, yellow hair, so like the sun, - - What is this sin that thou hast done - - That men should have such hate of thee? - - And sweet grave face of ivory, - - So made for love and for desire, - - Why should they crave thee for the fire? - - Fire of love was meant for thee." - - - - Her sister bent and kissed the hands - - Which hung straight down like two white wands, - - And hid her lips in a yellow tress, - - And kissed the breasts where they met the dress, - - And laid her cheek on the weary face - - To wipe away each tear's distress, - - To cleanse of grief each grievous place. - - And this for thee," she said and kissed. - - And this for thee," and held each wrist. - - And this for thee," and met the lips. - - As priest in sacred water dips - - His hand at last confessional - - To purge each thoroughfare of sense - - And bring again lost innocence, - - So she made pure and perfect all. - - Shrill through their peace shrieked the battle- - - call, - - Per Jesum Christum! Reggio! - - Have at them Death! They fall, they fall!" - - And hoarse, hard-breathed, the wall below, - - Surged up the wrath of the hungry foe, - - Give USs the daughter of Abramo." - - - - Fierce through that day the struggle went, - - And blood was spilt and swords were bent. - - The sun sank bloody in the West; - - The day died bitter and unblest. - - The mountains strained against the sky - - And angrily, as they would try - - To wrench from earth their trampled gowns. - - An eagle o'er the upland downs - - Hung poised, then beat his wings, as he - - Refused to share man's cruelty. - - At nightfall, when the host withdrew, - - A spearman, whom they counted dead, - - In dying strength raised up his head - - And sped a poisoned dart, which slew - - Ciro, who from the tower's height - - Leaned out to watch the evening light. - - And thus of four there remained but three. - - - - Celia clomb the winding stair - - And thought of how her yellow hair - - Could save the three, if she should dare - - To yield herself to Rimini. - - For I am very like to her," - - She said, "so like that if I were - - To feign myself for my sister - - By night--this night if I should go, - - I think the Count would never know - - Till they were safe and I was burned." - - The last bend in the stair she turned - - And halted as she gained the roof, - - And stretched her gaze abroad for proof - - Of where her lover might keep guard. - - There, where a shafted moonbeam barred - - An alcove of gray masonry, - - His face shone out, so tranquilly - - She thought him sleeping; but his eyes - - Were wide, intent on her and wise - - Beyond the sight of living men. - - Softly she called to him and, when - - He answered not, 'twas then she knew. . . - - She kissed his forehead, and withdrew - - Her tired feet adown the stair. - - Bianca kneeled entranced in prayer - - And noticed not her passing by, - - But counted fast her rosaRy. - - Corrado, touched upon the arm, - - Reeled as he turned in fierce alarm. - - She said, "We change the watch this hour. - - I will abide; guard you the tower." - - Then, as he set his foot to go, - - Kiss me, dear friend, for you must know - - We may not ever meet again, - - This war has brought us so much pain." - - He gazed on her a tender while, - - And wondered at the gracious smile - - Around her lips. "While we are four," - - He said, "we need not fear this war; - - Love is more than life ... far more, far more." - - She answered, "Not while we are four." - - Ah, have no fear at all," he said; - - "She prays for us, see how her head - - Is bowed in reverence to God." - - He took his sword and clanking trod - - The stone-paved vault and winding stair, - - Till she could judge him mounting where - - Another turn would bring to sight - - Her dead love's face in the shafted light - - Where the moonbeam washed the turret white. - - She bared her feet and crept the floor, - - With eager hands wrenched loose the door, - - And weeping passed into the night. - - The dawn thrust up a wild white face - - And stared toward the lonely place, - - Where through the vigil, hour by hour, - - Corrado guarded well the tower. - - It seemed his own reflected face, - - So wannish and so wide of eye; - - The lips moved and he caught their sigh, - - I am thyself and I must die." - - Thus did he learn the uttermost, - - The live man meeting his own ghost, - - And knew that surely he must die. - - The sun flashed up; the face was fled. - - By night he knew he must be dead. - - He leaned beyond the parapet - - To scan the rocky pass if yet - - Some help might wind around the hill. - - The morning air was very still; - - He heard the noise of climbing feet, - - Of something dragged across the peat, - - And saw two knights who, drawing near, - - Bore that which clogged his heart with fear-- - - A white gown, sown with golden threads - - Which held the light as do the meads - - When dandelions toss their heads - - Mid meadow-sweet and field-clover, - - Which poppy-leaves drift red over-- - - A long white gown and smirched with red, - - And hands so still, they must be dead. - - They laid her on a grass-grown bank - - And loosed about her neck the stole, - - So that her gold hair round her sank - - To frame a burning aureole.- - - How now, ye dogs of Rimini, - - What crime is this that ye have done - - To show to God's new-risen sun, - - Which he will tell God secretly?" - - - - And one in shame drew back a pace, - - And one raised up his vizored face, - - No crime, Sir Knave. God's work, I trow. - - Give us the witch, and we will go-- - - The match to this, from Reggio." - - - - We have no witch, as well ye know." - - But, as he spake, he heard with pain - - Their scornful laugh. - - - - To make things plain, - - The black knight pitched his voice and said - - And pointed, "Ho sir, turn your head; - - The witch stands by you even now." - - The world across his eyes and brow - - Streamed scarlet. By his side she stood, - - Her eyes bent on a distant wood - - Wherein the shadows came and went, - - Where horsemen from their stallions leant - - All eager for the bugle cry. - - We fight in vain," he heard her sigh, - - God wills it thus, that I should die." - - - - Nay, courage, sweetheart, while I stand - - With strength to grasp a sword in hand - - No harm shall come thee nigh nor by." - - But she had seen that on the hill - - Which made her moan, so that she still - - Kept looking and, "Oh, Christ," she sobbed, - - What is that thing so palely robed?" - - Her shadow slid throughout the space - - Until it reached across the face - - Of that dead maid, until their lips - - Strained to the kiss, their finger-tips - - Met at the touch. - - - - The enemy - - Shouted, "A witch, yea, verily, - - See how her shade feeds on the dead." - - Oh, I must go to her," she said: - - She sleeps alone, alone, alone." - - Her thin hands grazed against the stone, - - So blindly did she walk, her throat - - Stretched back, her hair far out did float - - Like sun-clouds following the sun. - - He followed her, passed down the stair, - - On through the vault and halted where - - She paused to swing the iron door; - - Then, out upon the trampled moor. - - There, where the dead girl lay, she knelt - - And made of her fair arms a belt - - Around the corse; there, with her hair, - - Wiped clean the face of earth and blood; - - There, with her mouth, rebuked the stare - - Of those strange eyes; last, made all good - - By placing in the hands for rood - - That which she pluck't from out the breast. - - They watched if God should stand the test. - - Ah, see," she cried, "God is awake, - - The dagger's bloodstains weep and make - - Large tears of red: the metal bleeds!" - - If Lord God is awake and heeds, - - He must heed quickly." So he said, - - For wading up the river-bed, - - Half-hid between its tree-topped banks, - - He caught the gleam of horses' flanks - - And, mingled with the water's flow, - - The low-breathed panting of the foe. - - Yea, God doth heed, and even now - - His finger burns across each brow - - His final lettering of doom: - - Not one of these beyond Hell's gloom - - Shall thrive to win a Heavenly home." - - The words fell so remote and meek - - She seemed not her own self to speak, - - But with her eyes to voice the spell - - Which should bring true the oracle. - - - - He caught her hand. "Come quick," - - cried, - - Come back, dear heart! See where they ride - - With sword in hand across the grass - - To thwart us, so we may not pass - - Within the tower-gate." - - - - "Too late," - - She said: "We may not win the gate. - - Yet now, true friend, though I must burn - - At Rimini, time is to learn - - One little lesson more of love: - - What would you?" - - - "That I die your knight." - - Eh, truly?" So she held above - - And touched him with his jagged sword, - - And whispered low the crowning word - - Which flooded all his face with light. - - He said, "I shall not fear to die." - - She raised him, smiling wondrously, - - Nor I to ride to Rimini, - - When you have died my knight." - - - - Twelve lancers circled into sight. - - Count Ugo gallopped through the green - - And laughed at that which he had seen. - - And yet one lover more?" scoffed he, - - God's death, you use them royally; - - Maids grow less bold in Rimini." - - My only lover and my last," - - She said. He scowled and caught her fast, - - Twisting his steel-glove in her hair, - - Jerked back her head, her eyes on him, - - So that her throat and breasts shone bare - - Above her corset's jewelled rim. - - Too good for fuel," he hissed, "too fair; - - Yet those pale cheeks, this yellow hair, - - Were not too good to deal out death. - - Eh? Hark to what the vixen saith, - - 'She did not sin, nor meant to kill.' - - My son lies dead, say what you will; - - Lies dead because of you, you witch, - - While leprous things in our town's ditch - - Crawl, mate, and spawn beneath God's sky; - - Therefore. . . - - - - He raised his hand on high - - As he would smite her upturned face. - - A sword leapt flashing down through space - - And lopt the coward at the joint. - - Corrado on his blade's red point - - Pricked up the hand, "Tis thus we use - - Our dastard knights, whose hands abuse - - Our womenfolk in Reggio." - - - - The thunder rumbled long and low. - - Oh hark," she cried, "God is awake; - - He walks communing for our sake." - - - - Yea, He hath sent me here to take - - Your wilful body to the fire, - - Till all is marred that men desire. - - Slay me that boy," Count Ugo said. - - One, who stood near, smote off his head. - - She hid her eyes so as not to see, - - Shuddered, swung round convulsively, - - Stooped as a broken lily dips - - To kiss the water--kissed his lips; - - Then dumbly rode to Rimini. - - - - And every pace the march along - - The hunters sang their hunting song, - - - _" Bianca of the yellow hair, - - With witch-face white as ivory, - - Thy tender body back we bear - - To die the death in Rimini."_ - - Within the lands of rising night - - And fields of departing day, - - What hours we wandered, you and I, - - How fain were we to stay! - - Star-flowers were in your maiden hands-- - - The stars were white with May. - - - - Between moon-set and morning sun - - Where mist of the Dreamland lies, - - What glory there was yours and mine, - - What love was in our eyes! - - For Sleep and Love walk hand-in-hand, - - And Sleep with morning flies. - - - - Our star-lit land was wholly ours, - - No warning of beast or bird - - Perturbed the twilight of our peace, - - No watchers' tread was heard; - - We dwelt alone and loved alone, - - Naught save our lips was stirred. - - - - Would that this holiest mystery - - Might come again to me! - - The radiance of thy moon-lit face, - - The eyes of purity-- - - The wide gray eyes, the beckoning lips, - - The silent cloudland sea. - - - - -DAYBREAK - - - - In frenzied haste, by legioned shadows pressed, - - The Chariot of Charity in flight - - Glittered along the Parapet of Night, - - With wheels of gold fast whirling to the West. - - - - Bridging with flame the barricaded Deep, - - It strove with sparking hoof and spangled heat, - - Where those twin rivers, Death and Life, retreat, - - And surge across the Agony of Sleep. - - - - I, to my casement, stark with horror crept; - - Day tottered tall, and breathed a shuddering - - breath: - - Wading, knee-deep, the turgid fords of Death, - - He clomb the cloven cliff of Dawn--and leapt. - - - - A hand of ivory caught up the rein; - - The Chariot rolled back superb again. - - - - -HOME - - - - We shall not always dwell as now we dwell, - - Together 'neath one home-protecting roof. - - For some of us our lives may not go well: - 'Gainst such small perils courage will be proof, - 'Gainst stronger ills these memories may be proof; - - To some of us this life may say farewell-- - - We cannot always dwell as now we dwell. - - - - What though we dwell not then as now we dwell? - - Hearts can recover hearts, when hearts are fain; - - While love stays with us everything is well; - - The roof of love is proof against the rain, - - Dead hands will guard our hearts against the rain-- - - Love will abide when all have said farewell: - - Our hearts may ever dwell as now they dwell. - - - - -VANISHED LOVE - - - - When my love was nigh me - - Naught had I to say: - - Then I feigned a false love-- - - And turned my lips away. - - - - When my love lay dying, - - Sorrowing I said, - - 'Soon shall I wear scarlet, - - Because my love is dead.' - - - - When my love had vanished, - - Then was nothing said: - - I forgot the scarlet - - For tears--and bowed my head. - - - - -THALATTA! THALATTA! - - - - Not with a cry, nor with the stifled sound - - Of one who 'neath Death's billows of Despair - - Thrusts up blue lips toward the outer air, - - Searching if any breathing may be found; - - Who plucks with groping finger-tips to rend - - The water's edges for a fraction's space, - - Through which he may push up his haggard face - - For one last look--the last before the end. - - - - As a broad river, having journeyed far - - Constrained by banks--too often fretfully-- - - 'Neath a full moon goes rocking out to sea - - Sombred by night, cheered by a rising star, - - So may my days move murmurously to rest, - - Throbbed through with Death who knew Life's - - sorrows best. - - - - -TO ENGLAND'S GREATEST SATIRIST - - - - Untriend to man and darkly passionate, - - Sneering in solitude, wide-winged for flight - - Lest one, from all our world, should read thee right - - And pity thee thy self-lured madman's fate, - - Why did'st thou strive so well to tempt our hate? - - Are we not comrades through the self-same night? - - The Caravan of Kindness, out of sight, - - We also follow--and arrive o'erlate. - - Thou, having failed thy Heaven, did'st scoff in - - Hell. - - Fiercely disguising, too much thou did'st dare; - - We caught the jangle of the cap and bell, - - And seeking, saw a quivering heart laid bare - - When thou wast dead--a sequel which did spell - - The pangs of love--"only a woman's hair." - - -[_N. B. "In a note in his biography, Scott says that his friend, -Doctor Tuke of Dublin, has a lock of Stella's hair, enclosed in -a paper by Swift, on which are written, in the Dean's hand, -the words: 'Only a woman's hair.' An instance, says Scott, -of the Dean's desire to veil his feelings under the mask of -cynical indifference."--Thackeray in his Essay on Dean Swift._] - - - - Years hence we two--I who wept yesterday, - - You who with death-chilled hands unheeding lay-- - - Gazing from Heaven adown the sky's wild face, - - Seeing this pigmy planet churning space, - - Do you remember?" then we two shall say, - - Quite in the dear old-fashioned worldly way, - - Do you remember, in a former age, - - What happened in that girdled finite cage?" - - - - And you, through joy having forgot your pain, - - Laughing will shake your head and rack your brain, - - Clasping my hand and thinking all in vain. - - No," you will say, "it is a distant way - - From grief to God; my memories go astray." - - - - Then, I, staring athwart the jewelled pit - - Which God hath dug between the infinite - - And the great little loss of death's decay, - - Will tell you all that happened yesterday. - - Don't you recall, dear, how the fierce blow came? - - Earth was at Spring-tide, all the fields aflame; - - - - Hope was just freed from Winter's servitude - - And songsters through the tree-tops he had strewed, - - And promises of greenness in the wood, - - While you, dear, grew in grace to womanhood." - - Then you: "I would remember if I could, - - But all is vague. Faint, like a far off strain, - - I catch the rustle of field-flowers again - - And hear the muffled skirmish of the rain." - - - - Don't you recall, dear, anything of pain?" - - - - Nothing," you whisper. - - - - Then I tell to you - - How in a week from life to death you grew, - - Your spirit yearning Godward, as did fail - - The strength of your white body, lily-pale; - - How through long nights and seven too brief - - days - - I held you fast, and flattered God with praise, - - Calling Him every kind endearing name, - - Hoping my love would fill His heart with shame - - Of doing that deed which He meant to do. - - - - What happened?" - - - - God was wise and He took you." - - - - Strange!" - - - "Ah yes, dearest, human loves are strange; - - Change seems so final in a world of change. - - - - Through the last night I watched your fluttering - - breath, - - Desperate lest the unseen hand of Death - - Should touch you, still you e'er I was aware, - - Leaving me nothing save your golden hair - - And the wide doors of an abandoned place, - - And the wise smiling of your quiet face-- - - The perishable chalice of your grace. - - - - "'In Heaven they all are serious,' so you said - - In your delirium. You shake your head, - - Denying what I surely heard you say. - - Since then you've seen the boys and girls at - - play - - Climbing the knees of God. - - - - "Listen again. - - Far out across the gulf you see a stain-- - - Follow my hand--a smudge, a blur of gray; - - That is the world. Though you forget the day, - - We lived there once, suffered, had joy, laughed, - - loved, - - And in sweet worship of each other moved. - - - - Then you fell sick and, while I held your hand, - - One took you .... - - - "Ah, you do not understand! - - Only field-flowers you remember well. - - This seems an idle fable that I tell; - - Then never trouble, dear; forget the pain. - - See, here comes God; perhaps He will explain." - - - - -IN THE GLAD MONTH OF MAY - - - - In the glad month of May, - - When morning was breaking, - - She rose from her body - - And vanished away. - - - - From a tree cloaked in gray - - A shrill bird kept calling, - - "Come quick. God is waiting. - - He cannot delay." - - - - We had no heart to pray, - - But, seeing her glory, - - Said, "Go, little sister; - - God needs you to-day." - - - - Very stilly she lay: - - The bird had ceased calling-- - - We let in the morning - - And kissed her dear clay. - - - - -THE LILIES BLOOM - - - - The lilies bloom above her head - - All unaware that she is dead. - - - - The small brown birds, with folded wing, - - Do not one whit less blithely sing. - - - - The sun goes on his usual round, - - Seeking die quiet she has found. - - - - And God looks down on everything, - - And that is why the small birds sing. - - - - -HERE, SWEET, WE LAY - - - - Here, sweet, we lay - - Thy sorrow and pain, - - Earth will resolve them to gladness again. - - - - Lily-white hands - - To lilies shall grow; - - Breath of thy body in breezes shall blow. - - - - Languor and grief, - - These Death could slay; - - God took the portion which cannot decay. - - - - Thou hast thy joy, - - We have thy pain; - - Flame of a soul I shall know thee again. - - - - -OUT OF THE BLACKNESS - - - - Out of the blackness into the light, - - From birth to death--a swallow's flight. - - - - Stars burning fainter, onward we strive. - - Cauldron of dawn! The East's alive. - - - - Joy in the journey, joy at the last; - - Day in its splendour--darkness past! - - - - In life's beginning clouds to be trod; - - At its brave ending, sunrise--God. - - - - From the veiled Hereafter - - Whither you have fled, - - Snatches of your laughter - - Vaguely wed - - With rustling of field-flowers, - - Angel-stirred, - - Guarded by God's towers, - - I have heard. - - - - God, in His compassion, - - Left Death's gate ajar - - So our faith might fashion - - Where you are; - - God's Mother walks beside you, - - Hand-in-hand, - - And Lord Christ doth guide you, - - Through that Land. - - - - -IF GOD SHOULD COME - - - - If God should come to me and say, - - Your little maiden, whom I took away - - But yesterday, - - I will give back to you again, - - If so you say, when you have seen the pain - - I did refrain - - In love from letting her endure. - - I knew death's surgery the only cure - - For one so pure. - - Joy in my breast is sure." - - - - Then should He show me all the way, - - Weary at whiles, her feet must stray, - - Had He decreed her death's delay, - - How should I choose? What should I say? - - - - -A NEW TENANT - - - - I watched for her in the night, - - I watched for her in the day-- - - But how could I hope to find her - - When her body had gone away? - - - - I spoke to her in the rooms - - Where she had been wont to play-- - - But how could my dearest answer - - When her body had gone away? - - - - I searched for her in my heart, - - And when it unfroze to pray, - - I knew that we shared one mortal house - - Since hers had resolved to clay. - - - - -LIFE WITHOUT THEE - - - - Life without thee would be, dearest, - - Eyes without sight; - - Death, if thou stood'st not nearest, - - Night without light. - - - - Since thou Death's token wearest, - - Freedom from strife, - - This I have learnt, my dearest, - - Death's name is Life. - - - - -ANSWERED PRAYER - - - - We prayed that unto you, dear, - - God's best gifts might be given; - - We wished to strew for you, dear, - - Earth's paths with Heaven. - - - - We planned your life a May-day - - When young flowers should be bom, - - That you might stray the smooth way - - Of gold-robed Morn. - - - - We dared more than we knew, dear; - - When half God's gifts were given, - - He answered all our prayers, dear-- - - He gave you Heaven. - - - - The shepherd is dead men tell me, - - He died upon a tree - - When Springtide was befalling - - Field-flowers in Galilee; - - But whenever the wind is blowing - - Straight out from the East or West, - - I can hear his brave voice calling, - - "Come after me. Come after me. - - Rise up, rise up and follow me-- - - I am Christ, thy rest." - - - - Then, rising I quickly gird me, - - For wherever Christ may be, - - The land where he is staying - - He turns to Galilee; - - Through whose vales when the wind is blowing - - From meadows his feet have blest, - - He aye calls to his loved ones saying, - - Come after me. Come after me. - - Rise up, rise up and follow me-- - - Where I am, is rest." - - - - I seek him in every day, - - I travel land and sea - - From dawn till dusk is falling - - And God hangs lamps for me. - - But whenever the wind is blowing, - 'Tis then that I find him best; - - For I hear his brave voice calling, - - In seeking me, thou followest me; - - Then where thou art is Galilee, - - And I am--thy rest." - - - - -IN BEDLAM - - - - Lord, there is music in my world to-day. - - For this I thank Thee; once again I hear - - The foamy clash of cymbals and the grave - - Hoarse-throated shout of brass which is repulsed, - - And the clear triumph of unvanquished pipes-- - - Battles against stringed instruments and fifes - - Which angels wage from organ-stops in Heaven. - - I, through the hostile grating of my cell, - - Can tiptoe just discern where warrior clouds - - Chum smoking broken waters in their wakes, - - Which unseen challengers, the winds, do chase, - - Drowning their anger to a tranquil depth, - - Till in blue sky-weed unrevenged they lie - - Like gaunt Armada galleons long since sunk. - - So all is calm again, and I look out - - With prison'd eyes upon Thy travelling world. - - - - A breath of flowers is in the air to-day, - - Spring flowers which have not bloomed for many - - months, - - Which, for my sake, have come to life this day. - - I cannot see them, they grow far from here - - - With feet entangled in the green, gray earth. - - They too are prisoners from their earliest birth, - - Yet they have flung their fragrance forth to me - - That I, a captive mind, may share their joy. - - - - Now, as I listen, laughter dies away; - - In Earth's tall tree-tops, dim and out of sight, - - I hear the mining beak of one small bird, - - Striving for freedom with its puny strength. - - Now the shell breaks; it struggles into life; - - Its mother's wings enfold it; it is safe. - - Far down beneath the nest the forest sighs, - - Swaying its branches, as it too would say, - - _"I will protect thee from the driving rain, - - My leaves shall cover thee, so have no dread_" - - I also in my ruined strength would pray, - - "_God grant thee rest, and shelter thee from fear_" - - If I should live the seasons round again - - And God vouchsafe me one more summer's day - - Of utter peace, perchance thy voice I'll hear - - Trilling in confidence from some cool glade-- - - And thus my madman's prayer will be repaid. - - - - Laughter breaks forth again; the world is glad. - - There's music in the very rocks to-day. - - Yea, through my sullen bars the red sun peers - - And stains my confines with his golden smile; - - God shakes His happiness abroad to-day. - - See, I will rake this yellow harvest home - - And treasure it against a sadder hour, - - When Winter's mantled all our stars in night. - - When that shall be, I'll paint my walls with gold, - - Loosen my breast and let the sun's rays free, - - Re-capture them and hoard them up again; - - And so will halt the summer at its prime. - - - - Lord, I am mad; but Thou canst heal my mind. - - Once, not long since--long after Thou hadst made - - And bastioned with grace my living soul-- - - Thou, in a careless hour, didst plan my frame, - - Moulding my body from the oozy day; - - But, just before Thy task was most complete, - - Didst nod, and drowse, and waking didst forget - - Thy task unfinished--so was I bom mad; - - So was my perfect soul a bondsman made - - To serve vile lusts of my imperfect brain. - - Hast Thou to-day remembered Thy mistake? - - This mom I wakened, found that I was sane, - - Beheld the East as no unchartered dread - - Threat'ning the world with universal fire, - - But as Thy kindness held aloft for men; - - Then craned I forth my hands to dutch Thy winds, - - Nor shrank from them as fore-runners of Death. - - - - Father, before the Darkness falls again, - - Before my soul wends backward to the Night, - - Grant unto me Thy earliest gift to Man, - - Form me in image godlike to Thyself. - - - - Is it beyond Thy power to make me well? - - Thou weakling God! then send me down Thy - - Christ, - - He whose strong pity hath dethroned Thy might, - - And made a man a worthier god than Thou: - - For he in peasant lands of Galilee - - Did love, and love, and love till his heart brake; - - He took away the anguish of men's pain - - By spending all their pain on his own life; - - He drove away the shadows from men's minds - - By giving them himself, who was the Light. - - - - Ah Christ, that thou hadst not been crucified! - - Wert thou still living by the fishers' lake, - - Then thou hadst heard me half across the world; - - Though from the Andes, I had cried to thee, - - Still hadst thou heard, and come from Palestine - - Only to stretch thy cooling hands on me, - - Only to rest thy cooling hands in mine-- - - Those gentle hands, by bleeding feet borne thence. - - - - -A SONG OF IGNOBLE EASE - - - - When Pleasure's found, - - Away with the tear; - - Grief's a starved hound, - - Pursued by lean Fear. - - - - Life is a round - - Of languor and pain; - - When Joy is found, - - Go forth not again. - - - - Music's a sound - - Which guides men to rest; - - Love is the bound - - That ends every quest. - - - - Lie down to rest, - - Slay fragile Pain, - - Vanquish lean Fear, - - Away with the Tear. - - - - Finish thy quest - - And strive not again. - - - - Sick I had been, and very sore afraid, - - Baffled of life, and lost to every hope, - - Hounded by dread, pursued and left dismayed - - Standing alone, abandoned and afraid. - - - - Then did I ask, "What now is left to say? - - Why should I question? Wherefore should I - - strive? - - Man was made thus, to fail and creep away; - - Thus was Man made, and there is naught to say." - - - - Oh, I was weak, and blind with too much pain, - - Bankrupt and blind, all feeble in my tread; - - Would I might touch one friendly hand again-- - - Find love to rid me of this too much pain." - - - - I spoke in fear, and knew not what I said, - - Thought not of anguish hands of love must share, - - Lonely I was, because my hope was dead, - - Yearning and sad. I knew not what I said. - - - - Then did One come who laid His hands in mine, - - One who did kiss my poor unseeing eyes, - - Tenderly led to where the stars do shine, - - Speaking kind words, He placed His hands in mine. - - - - There did I see the trees go riding by - - Moved by the wind, and heard the nightingale - - Carol and slur, and sing, and sob, and sigh, - - Wing-mounted moths, and angels riding by. - - - - Then did I seek to see the healing friend; - - But He had vanished. I was left alone. - - There, where He stood, my body I did bend, - - Weeping in prayer, to Him my healing friend. - - - - -A WISH FOR HER - - - - Peace unto thee - - Wherever thou art, - - Childlike companion, - - Friend of my heart. - - - - Joy unto thee - - Dear image of God; - - Flowers are blowing - - Where thou hast trod. - - - - Peace unto thee - - And respite from pain; - - Whiteness of raiment, - - Freedom from stain. - - - - Love unto thee, - - Remembrance of Heaven, - - Tokens of Jesus - - By angels given. - - - - Peace unto thee - - Wherever thou art, - - Christlike companion - - Made for my heart. - - - - -WE MEET - - - - We meet - - In a lamp-lit street, - - You and I-- - - Life is sweet. - - - - Clouds' tumultuous feet - - Shake the sky; - - They are all in retreat-- - - Death draws nigh. - - Life is sweet-- - - With anonymous beat - - Crowds surge by. - - - - Only I - - And my sweet - - Dare to linger and greet. - - Your lips sigh, - "Time is fleet." - - Stars repeat, - - - "Life is sweet-- - - Kiss her," they cry; - "In an unlit street - - One day you must die." - - - - Thus we meet. - - - - -HEART-BREAK - - - - Lord God of Cities, how long must we wait - - Bound in our Babylons of tawdry sin; - - Hast Thou so many other stars to win, - - Is greed of conquest so insatiate? - - - - Or does Omnipotence design to take - - Example from the flaws of childhood's years, - - And what of folly in Thy work appears - - Thou studiest for newer worlds' sweet sake? - - - - Nay, Thou art shamed of Thy first dwelling-place, - - And we are wearied; neither of us know - - How we may remedy Thy fault, and so - - With slow tired hands Thou coverest Thy face. - - - - Poor Man! foredoomed to spurn such love as this! - - Sad God! what grief to make a world amiss! - - - - -UP AGAIN - - - - Down in the mud again! - - Thank God I'm up again, - - On through the rife of rain. - - Clouds, in their height, - - Gleam where some moon shines whit< - - Thank God I'm up again! - - Stars are in sight, - - Or will be in sight - - This night or next night. - - God be praised for the sight! - - It's brave to be up again. - - - - If I should fall again, - - Why, I'll rise up again-- - - On through the rush of rain - - Search out some light. - - Somewhere on wings of white-- - - Praise God I'm up again-- - - Something's in flight, - - Star-flight or dawn-flight, - - Hereward through the night. - - God be praised for such flight! - - It's glad to be up again. - - - - -MASTERLESS - - - - With tattered sail, as ships which driven are - - On whatsoever course the winds may list, - - Which every peaceful waterway have missed, - - And drift on open seas with shattered spar - - And gaping seam, which toss and sway and nod, - - Remote from sight of land and hope of aid, - - So is the canvassed, crude conveyance made - - In which Man journeys to the port of God. - - No pillow in his vessel rests the head - - Of one who, sleeping, has the power to save-- - - Who, when the clouds fly far, can calm the wave - - And send it sobbing to the ocean bed. - - Storm follows storm, the waters run more high; - - Across the vain and vacant void of death - - We lilt with lifeless motion to each breath, - - And grope grotesquely on, yet cannot die. - - Oh, for a respite from this weary place, - - Or else to see but once the Master's face! - - - - -FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD - - - - With you the world's at evening-light, - - With me the world's at day; - - Yet in my heart I think 'tis night - - While you are far away: - - While you are far away, dear lad, - - While you are far away, - - There comes no dawn, nor change of light, - - Nor any hope in day. - - - - With you it nears the hour of sleep; - - With me 'tis time to pray, - - That God may guide you o'er His deep - - Back from the Far-Away; - - Home from the Far-Away, dear lad, - - Back from the Far-Away, - - That God may drift you home in sleep, - - And bring me back my day. - - - - Christ placed his hand in mine and said, - - Come, little child, for thou art mine." - - I kissed him', raising up my head, - - And whispered, "Yea, Lord, I am thine." - - - - We wandered through white clover-flowers - - Beside a murmuring brook all day; - - When night led back the dream-tide hours - - Within his shepherd arms I lay. - - - - Older I grew, until at last - - Unto a clanging town we came; - - Christ wept for me, but in I passed - - Alone. It was the town of Fame, - - - - Wherein are lands of diverse name-- - - The Saffron East, the Purple West, - - Whose walls enclose a Crimson Shame - - But hold no Land of Quiet Rest. - - - - Weary I grew and sad, and lame, - - Until in scorn I heard one say, - - How to the gate there seeking came - - A wounded shepherd yesterday. - - - - Painfully at the stroke of dawn - - I to the open country crept; - - And on a distant dewy lawn - - I found Christ, while the city slept. - - - - My crippled hands in his, I said, - - O Lord and art thou truly mine?" - - Upon his breast he laid my head, - - Yea, little child, am I not thine?" - - - - News, sent from far away, - - Came unto me to-day, - - Only these words to say, - - Lo, he is dead." - - - - He, who to comfort me, - - Laughing right merrily, - - Said, "Think, how glad we'll be - - When I return." - - - - He, strumming out Hope's song - - Wending lone lands among, - - Swept Life's harp overstrong-- - - Felt the strings break. - - - - I shall return, you know," - - So he spake long ago; - - How brave our love must grow," - - Wrote a week since. - - - - Then news, from far away, - - Came unto me this day, - - Only these words to say, - - Lo, _he_ is dead." - - -"_The Terror by Night: the Arrow by Day: the Pestilence -walking in Darkness: the Destruction wasting at Noonday._" - - - - Thou Demon Fear, Assassin of Delight, - - Who makest impotent Man's royal might, - - Turning to poverty his wealth of days - - With hushed pursuit of him in all his ways, - - Whence art thou come, from what dead land of - - Night? - - - - Speak, only speak, occult, accursèd shade, - - Who ne'er to human eyes hast yet displayed - - Thine awful shape; ah, could we only hear - - Thy thin, pale voice! Thy ghastly step draws - - near, - - But bring not _thee_--therefore we grow afraid. - - - - What things men fear they do not dare to say - - Lest, thus provoked, Fate should no more delay - - But run on them and wreak those ills they dread: - - To Death we kneel, to God we bow the head; - - Yet of our fears we have the most dismay. - - - - We fear our fears, but thee, Oh Fear, we hate, - - For thou with all our sins art intimate - - As He who made us; crimes wrought long ago, - - Follies and half-faults, each one thou dost know - - And dost avenge with rods deliberate. - - - - Ah, were this all, our lives might yet go well - - For, since we suffer here the pains of Hell, - - Heav'n should be certain, Death--God's just - - reprieve. - - But thou with vain forebodings dost conceive - - To break our hearts, and turn us infidel. - - - - Oh for that silence, virgin of all sound, - - Vast, uncalamitous which did abound - - When Darkness, drooping from Eternity, - - Trailed his slow pinions o'er Time's tideless - - sea - - Before Fear was called forth from underground. - - - - Then Quiet, from the Nothingness of Space, - - Gazed down on Chaos with untroubled face, - - Such as babes have who enter Life still-born; - - For Evening Strife, nor Hurricane of Morn, - - Had then perturbed God's wonted resting-place. - - - - Now, though through utterest lands we wend our - - way, - - We hear thy footstep, so we cannot stay; - - Yea, though we search out Peace in dreams by - - night, - - Too soon we know thee following our flight, - - And shrieking wake, and clamour for new-day. - - - - Only Man's bygone days are truly sweet: - - _This day_ is darkened by _To-morrow's_ threat, - - _To-morrow_ by the menace of _To-day;_ - - From out the Past is fled away for aye - - The grinding doubt of possible defeat. - - - - Ah, were we wise, our lives 'tis thus we'd spend: - - Because the Past glides onward without end, - - Engulfing _our _To-day and _our_ Hereafter, - - We'd greet This Day, or Next, with careless - - laughter - - - - As 'twere the Past, and so our fortunes mend. - - - - Too weak are we, too diligent in doubt, - - This fiend with sage philosophy to flout; - - When all his lawful issue fail his need, - - Fear doth with harlot Fancy quickly breed - - Frenzy, to put Tranquillity to rout. - - - - Nightly earth's infants, garret-roofs beneath, - - Wake shuddering and hark, with indrawn breath - - And small clenched hands and faces woe-begone, - - Till through the creaking gloom there mounteth - - one - - Whom they in ignorance mistake for Death. - - - - Nor are we braver when we older grow, - - For still "'Tis Death!" we sob. "'Tis Death! Ah - - woe, - - Deep woe, is me!" whene'er thou drawest nigh: - - Therefore, Oh Fear, full many times men die - - And Dissolution's torments undergo. - - - - Man, who was made in image like to God, - - Whom angels tended wheresoe'er he trod - - With glad huzzas and harpings all the way, - - So that the untamed beasts allowed his sway, - - Cringes a coward 'neath thine up-raised rod. - - - - Secret Chastiser of our secret heart, - - Speak, but this once, to tell us who thou art; - - Whether the hound that runs before Death's - - feet, - - Discrowned Imagination in retreat, - - Or Echo, of our own flight the counterpart - - Like God, most silent ever thou dost keep. - - Thine eyes must be as God's, which never sleep - - But watch, aye watch, and know us all in all. - - Oh, can it be, that thou art but the call - - Of God, the Shepherd, guarding o'er His sheep? - - - - -ABANDON - - - - Just to be true to one grand swift desire - - Which shall all other furious faiths outpace; - - To run with strength an uncontested race - - Till, knowing how the soul is catching fire - - And generous flame is clambering through the - - heart-- - - For Self, what though heroic, is not best-- - - I grasp my life and hurl it with the rest, - - Joining myself to God--a puny part. - - - - One holy thing to fail for--thus to die; - - To give men love, who knew before remorse; - - Then, meekly seek with Christ some scornful - - Cross, - - But leave the world more kind in passing by-- - - In piercing through the covering doth of night - - To lodge one star, and vanish strong in flight. - - - - Kiss me," she said, "for I must die - - Ere any star his flight hath ta'en, - - And cold and unperturbed shall lie - - When Night doth pace our earth again. - - And thou, dear love, if thou should'st weep, - - And if thy heart with anguish break, - - From sweet sad dreams thy solace take - - And lose thy pain in painless sleep. - - Kiss me, dear love, for I must die - - And cold and unperturbed shall lie." - - - - Kiss me, dear friend, for now I feel - - That thou art as a glimpse of God; - - More tender passions through me steal - - Than when this wayward world I trod. - - Lie still, dear heart, and do not speak-- - - God would not stoop to such as me; - - With silent mouth and noiselessly - - I would my grave Creator seek. - - Kiss me, dear love, for now I feel - - More noble passions through me steal." - - - - Kiss me, this last, for I must flee - - From all I loved and cherished here, - - And now must go distressfully - - Bereft, in solitude and fear. - - But, when your eyes are closed in sleep, - - I shall descend the starry steeps - - Where Leon for her lover weeps - - And tired hands have naught to reap. - - Kiss me, dear love, alone I flee - - To meet unknown Eternity." - - - - -MAN'S BEGINNING - - - - When God was young and wandered through the - - skies - - Supreme and unadored, content to be - - The only vessel on His starry sea, - - He had no wish for sight of other eyes. - - But, as the years flew by, He older grew, - - And held less dear the loneliness He found, - - When from some long-since reign He caught the - - sound - - Of play-mate deities, whom once He knew. - - Half-heedlessly He stooped toward a star - - And kissed its silver lips, when forth there came - - A little god, in speech like to those same - - Dear children whom in sleep He heard afar. - - The Father God pulsated through His heart, - - He cried, "O Child, my little son thou art." - - - - -LOVE AT LAST - - - - When I have looked upon Thy face - - I hear a wandering discontent - - Wail through my living, and retrace - - The leaf-strewn paths my feet frequent. - - Folly abode within a glade - - And saw my flight and, laughing, bade - - Me greet her lips and kiss her hair, - - Till I was fain to kiss her there. - - - - But Thou art sad and dost not speak, - - So sad and sorrowful art Thou; - - Thine eyes are scarred, my eyes they seek, - - And cruel marks have marred Thy brow. - - Pleasure laid hands on me and mine, - - She crowned my head with tangled vine, - - Her arms about my neck lay bare; - - I was constrained to kiss her there. - - - - Yea, Thou hast suffered. This I tell - - By those long wound-prints in Thy hands; - - Mankind has never used Thee well, - - And loves not Thee, nor Thy commands. - - - - Bitterness found me desolate - - And kissed me with the breath of hate; - - Since Folly fled, she bade me wear - - Her angry scarlet in my hair. - - - - Now, as I look into Thy face, - - Despised and battered though it be, - - Visage of scorn in every place, - - I know that I belong to Thee. - - Worthless these lips to give the kiss-- - - And yet I dare, recalling this, - - When Life's last lovers left me bare - - Thy patient face was constant there. - - - - -THE MIRROR OF THOUGHT - - - - When earnest-eyed we conversed through the - - night, - - Recalled past pleasure, followed up the hour - - With plaintive music--sad memorial flower - - Of melancholy and of old delight-- - - Rode bold as Taillefer with tossing brand - - Across the hills of fancy, chanting strains - - Of ancient chivalry, while loud refrains - - Rumbled responsive through our faery band, - - Then Courage kindled Courage, making gay - - Carnage and conflict, poverty and fear; - - The path to glory golden did appear, - - And I was brave to wend it any day. - - A far-blown cry of love and minstrelsy, - - Revealed to me myself as I would be. - - - - -I'M SORRY - - - - I'm sorry, dear-- - - But I did not know - - That behind your eyes, - - Where the joy-fields grow - - And dance to the joy of dancing skies, - - There were forests where graver flowers rise; - - Weighted with shadow, - - They stand tiptoe: - - So I'm sorry, dear-- - - I did not know. - - - - I'm sorry, dear. - - As we older grow - - There will come a day, - - May its feet move slow, - - When we, where the life-fields fade to gray - - And the skies dance not, shall have naught to say, - - Met by a Shadow, - - In voices low, - - But, "I'm sorry, God-- - - I did not know." - - - - -DREAMLAND LOVE - - - - Here in the Far Land of our own begetting, - - Crouched on the haunted cliff begirt by sea, - - Hushed in the murmurous swell of dim waves - - fretting - - Walls and sheer rocks which cradle you and me, - - How shall we lisp of older worlds and cities? - - How shall we sigh for newer worlds to be? - - Naught here is left of moanings or of pities, - - Only the whispered silence of the sea. - - - - We had no stars to shine our curved prows hither, - - Nor had we moons to guide us fearlessly, - - Only the age-long yearnings of the river - - Bruised by steep banks and aching for the sea; - - Rivers whose tides grow tired of earthly lilies, - - Too full of splendour to last so long as we, - - Rivers whose length-long craving and strong will is - - Once to see space, and then to cease to be. - - - - Hither we journeyed sunset-ways by water, - - I in my phantom keel of Poesy, - - You in Sleep's arms, of whom you are the daughter, - - Till in my arms Sleep laid you noiselessly. - - - - Down through the dusk our dreamland barque - - drove gleaming, - - Under gray sails, through gradual groves of sea, - - Till from your eyes I saw the love-light streaming, - - And gave the kiss which set your spirit free. - - - - All the fair glories of our first beginnings - - We did forsake to gain this quiet place; - - Passions we left, and fears, and youthful sinnings; - - Virtues we left, and early signs of grace. - - Dreamings we brought and beauty of the May- - - time, - - All else we flung to where Time's whirlwinds race. - - Timeless are we in this our godlike play-time, - - Since Sleep has led us gently face to face. - - - - Gray glide the mists around our ocean's edges, - - Gray grope the tides across the gray-paved sea, - - Gray clings the foam about our granite ledges, - - Naught, naught remains to safeguard you from - - me. - - These axe the souls who watch us at our dreaming, - - Spirits of mist, of spray-dashed crag and sea; - - All, all is hushed, save your gray eyes deep gleaming, - - Eyes of veiled flame in caves of mystery. - - - - Like frozen stars, we watched each other's shining, - - Wondered with pain if any time might be, - - When we should lean beyond our own divining, - - Touching the lips of others such as we, - - Till I grew faint within my lonely heaven, - - Sank through the cloudland stretched twixt you - - and me, - - Plunged through the thunder where firmaments - - rocked riven, - - So gave the kiss which set your spirit free. - - - - We must go hence, when flames the tyrant morning, - - We shall go hence at breaking of new day; - - We, like the stars strange midnight lands adorning, - - We must go hence, steal separately away. - - Yet, like the stars, perchance we may glide burning - - When round the earth the skies are growing gray; - - We to our haunted cliff may sail returning, - - Nearing the crags where yesternight we lay. - - Thus from the Far Land of our own begetting - - - - I must depart across Sleep's sundering sea, - - Throughout the Sim Land wander inly fretting, - - Till night drifts back restoring you to me; - - - - Till through the dark I see Love's pennons streaming, - - When you will kiss and set my spirit free; - - Till through the dusk our dreamland barque drives - - gleaming, - - Under gray sails, through gradual groves of sea. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Florence On A Certain Night, by Coningsby Dawson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLORENCE ON A CERTAIN NIGHT *** - -***** This file should be named 52455-8.txt or 52455-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/5/52455/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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