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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..747ec3d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53818 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53818) diff --git a/old/53818-0.txt b/old/53818-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4d6fe80..0000000 --- a/old/53818-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2286 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Geoffrey Dearmer - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Geoffrey Dearmer - -Release Date: December 27, 2016 [EBook #53818] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - - POEMS - - - - - POEMS - - BY - GEOFFREY DEARMER - - [Illustration: colophon] - - NEW YORK - Robert M. McBride & Company - 1918 - - - - - Dedication - - TO CHRISTOPHER - - KILLED, SUVLA BAY, OCTOBER 6TH, 1915. - - - _At Suvla when a sickening curse of sound_ - _Came hurtling from the shrapnel-shaken skies,_ - _Without a word you shuddered to the ground_ - _And with a gesture hid your darkening eyes._ - _You are not blind to-day--_ - _But were we blind before you went away?_ - - _Forgive us then, if, faltering, we fail_ - _To speak in terms articulate of you;_ - _Now Death’s celestial journeymen unveil_ - _Your naked soul--the soul we hardly knew._ - _O beauty scarce unfurled,_ - _Your blood shall help to purify the world._ - - _Awakened now, no longer we believe_ - _Knight-errantry a myth of long ago._ - _Let us not shame your happiness and grieve;_ - _All close we feel you live and move, we know_ - _Your life shall ever be_ - _Close to our lives enshrined eternally._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - -I - -_The Dardanelles_ - - PAGE - -From “W” Beach 3 - -A Prayer 5 - -Fallen 6 - -The Turkish Trench Dog 7 - -The Sentinel 9 - -Mudros after the Evacuation 12 - -The Dead Turk 18 - - -II - -_B.E.F._ - -Missing 17 - -Two Trench Poems 22 - -Gommecourt 24 - -A Vision 31 - -Revelation 33 - -Tell me, Stranger 34 - -Spring in the Trenches 36 - -On the Road 38 - -Keats, before Action 41 - -The Somme 42 - -Somme Flower Talk 46 - -To the Uttermost Farthing 48 - -In the Mess 53 - -A Trench Incident 54 - -Reality 55 - -“We Poets of the Proud Old Lineage” 56 - - -III - -_Miscellaneous Poems_ - -Song 59 - -The Shadow 60 - -Everychild 62 - -Child of the Flowing Tide 64 - -Eight Sonnets 66 - -Keats 74 - -Meeting Her in the Street 75 - -Her Homage 76 - -Reaction 77 - -April 78 - -May-June 79 - -The Strolling Singer 80 - -The French Mother to Her Unborn Child 87 - - -My thanks are due to the editors of the _Nineteenth Century_, _Cornhill -Magazine_, _Observer_, _New Statesman_, and _Westminster Gazette_, for -permission to reprint certain of these poems. - - - - - I - - THE DARDANELLES - - - - - FROM “W” BEACH - - - The Isle of Imbros, set in turquoise blue, - Lies to the westward; on the eastern side - The purple hills of Asia fade from view, - And rolling battleships at anchor ride. - - White flocks of cloud float by, the sunset glows, - And dipping gulls fleck a slow-waking sea, - Where dim steel-shadowed forms with foaming bows - Wind up the Narrows towards Gallipoli. - - No colour breaks this tongue of barren land - Save where a group of huddled tents gleams white; - Before me ugly shapes like spectres stand, - And wooden crosses cleave the waning light. - - Celestial gardeners speed the hurrying day - And sow the plains of night with silver grain; - So shall this transient havoc fade away - And the proud cape be beautiful again. - - Laden with figs and olives, or a freight - Of purple grapes, tanned singing men shall row, - Chanting wild songs of how Eternal Fate - Withstood that fierce invasion long ago. - - - - - A PRAYER - - - Lord, keep him near to me: - Revive his image, let my darkening sight - Renew his life by death intensified - (His beating life so pitifully tried) - That we may face the night - And shade the agony. - - We pray in barren stress - Where stricken men await the shrill alarm - And nightly watch, in silent order set, - The beckoning stars enshrine the parapet. - Lord, keep his soul from harm - And grant him happiness. - - When all the world is free, - And, cleansed and purified by floods of pain - We turn, and see the light in human eyes; - When the last echo of War’s thunder dies; - Lord, let us pause again - In silent memory. - - Gallipoli, _October, 1915_. - - - - - FALLEN - - - The days shall darken and sink down to Night, - And Night shall break in the bleak dawn of Day: - The years shall dim his face, our fleeting sight - Shall see his splendid image fade away - Beyond the knowledge of our drifting thought - Which moves in circles to the source again, - Beyond dark seas with shivering stars inwrought - Beyond war-burdened men in stricken pain. - - I searched in rage and passionate despair - Down winding paths of thought, and comradeless - In the full surge and tumult where he died - I turned; and saw my Brother standing there. - His face was like a dawning happiness-- - I saw wounds in his hands, his feet, his side. - - Gallipoli, _October, 1915_. - - - - - THE TURKISH TRENCH DOG - - - Night held me as I crawled and scrambled near - The Turkish lines. Above, the mocking stars - Silvered the curving parapet, and clear - Cloud-latticed beams o’erflecked the land with bars - I, crouching, lay between - Tense-listening armies peering through the night, - Twin giants bound by tentacles unseen. - Here in dim-shadowed light - I saw him, as a sudden movement turned - His eyes towards me, glowing eyes that burned - A moment ere his snuffling muzzle found - My trail; and then as serpents mesmerise - He chained me with those unrelenting eyes, - That muscle-sliding rhythm, knit and bound - In spare-limbed symmetry, those perfect jaws - And soft-approaching pitter-patter paws. - Nearer and nearer like a wolf he crept-- - That moment had my swift revolver leapt-- - But terror seized me, terror born of shame - Brought flooding revelation. For he came - As one who offers comradeship deserved, - An open ally of the human race, - And sniffing at my prostrate form unnerved - He licked my face! - - - - - THE SENTINEL - - _An Episode at the Evacuation of Gallipoli._ - - - He stood enveloped in the darkening mist - High on the cape that proudly kept her tryst - Above the narrow portal. All the day - White shell-flung water-spouts had scattered spray - Round Helles, warden of the Eastern seas; - And still the boom of Asian batteries - Rumbled around the cape. The sentinel - Spied from his high cliff-towered citadel - The leaping flash of guns; but ere the roar - Sprang from its den on the dim Asian shore, - He blew a trumpet. Then, like burrowing moles, - Dim forms below dashed headlong to their holes, - The while that hurtling iron crossed the sea, - And fifteen seconds seemed eternity. - Below we lay - Crushed in a lighter; and the towering spray - That lately blurred the clear star-laden sea - Subsided in the vast tranquillity. - Now, chafing like taut-muscled charioteers - With every sense on tiptoe, we strained ears - For whispers, or the catch of indrawn breath. - Still not the word to cut adrift the rope - That moored us to a wharf of floating piers: - And thus alternately in fear and hope - Swung the grim pendulum of life and death. - - Then suddenly the sound - Of that loud warning rang the cape around. - We knew a gun had flashed, we knew the roar - That instant rumbled from the Asian shore; - And we lie fettered to a raft!... The shell - Climbs its high trajectory ... Well, - What of it? Fifteen seconds less or more - One--two--three--four--five--six--seven - (Steady, man, - It’s only Asiatic Ann) ... - How slow the moments trickle--eight--nine--ten - (They’re wonderful, these men). - Am I a coward? I can count no more; - Hold Thou my hands, O God. - - The sea, upheaved in anger, rocked and swirled; - Niagara seemed pelting from the stars - In tumult that epitomised a world - Roused by the battling impotence of wars. - We heard a whispered order to escape, - And casting loose, incredulously free, - Unscathed, exulting in the amber light - We left behind the immemorial cape. - - But still above the indomitable sea - From his high cliff a sentry watched the night - - - - - MUDROS AFTER THE EVACUATION - - - I laughed to see the gulls that dipped to cling - To the torn edge of surf and blowing spray, - Where some gaunt battleship, a rolling king, - Still dreams of phantom battles in the bay. - I saw a cloud, a full-blown cotton flower - Drift vaguely like a wandering butterfly, - I laughed to think it bore no pregnant shower - Of blinding shrapnel scattered from the sky. - Life bore new hope. An army’s great release - From a closed cage walled in by fire and sea, - From the hushed pause and swooping plunge of shells, - Sped in a night. Here children in strange peace, - Seek solitude to dull the tragedy, - And needless horror of the Dardanelles. - - Mudros, _January, 1916_. - - - - - THE DEAD TURK - - - Dead, dead, and dumbly chill. He seemed to lie - Carved from the earth, in beauty without stain - And suddenly - Day turned to night, and I beheld again - A still Centurion with eyes ablaze: - And Calvary re-echoed with his cry-- - His cry of stark amaze. - - - - - II - - B. E. F. - - - - - MISSING - - - They told me nothing more: I bow my head - And squander life, between the quick and dead - Irresolute. Yet I again could be - Mistress of life, Queen of my destiny, - If I but knew--But now Remembrance plays - My being back through spring and summer days - We passed together; and I see him still - Swinging to meet me down the tardy hill. - That day the birds were new-inspired; a breeze - Bestirred, as it in wonderment, the trees; - The very clouds paused in their breathless race, - And shadows played upon his open face; - And I remember how his laughing eyes - Shone deep as pools in sea-blue ecstasies. - The meadow grasses rustled in the heat; - I even heard the silence of his feet - Down the slow hill--And now the dawning birth - Of beauty woke my senses to the earth - Unveiled in radiance. The sweeping skies-- - Unseen unless reflected in his eyes-- - Marshalled cloud companies with new delight; - Just for us two the spangled dome of night - Swung out the journeying moon. - But still I hold - Burnt in my memory in beaten gold - Days when the Spring stirred in each waking bush - A blue-flecked jay or tawny-feathered thrush, - And drowsy Winter, startled unawares - By arc-winged partridges or listening hares, - Fled guiltily. We heard the magpies call-- - Those dominoes at Nature’s carnival-- - And once a kingfisher, a lovely gleam - Snatched from a rainbow, darted to a stream. - The snowdrops bowed their heads for us to see - Shy peeping buds of hooded chastity; - And stalwart cowslips raised sun-glinted eyes - To those who stooped to pluck their sanctities. - Grass-nestled crocuses that scorn the wind - Speared upward proudly and besought mankind - To step with care. Near by, we searched a glade - Where violets brood in sweetness, half afraid - To wake their petals. On we roamed, and soon - The flower that shares her secret with the moon - In pale gold fellowship peeped out, among - A host of truculent daffodils that flung - Their trumpets down the wind. - Each breathless day - Broke to fulfil its promise, till the May - Had fledged her clustered blooms and swung her pride - In bowing sweetness to the country side. - Beauty was born again. But now the sound - Of heavy Autumn patters to the ground, - And loud discordant booms of thunder roll - Where that enchanted owner of my soul - Lies dead, or dying, or is living still: - At last the fibres of my struggling will - Falter exhausted, and my cowering brain - Cries out in anguish like a child in pain. - - If he is dead, then I abide to prove - That brief fulfilment may be perfect love. - How should I grieve? His life inspired in me - A joy that shall outlive eternity, - Wrought out, complete, unsnared by time and age - My jewelled past my priceless heritage. - Shall misery usurp my realm of years - And leave me drowning in self-pitying tears, - A derelict in my own whirlpool swirled-- - Me--whom Love crowned an empress of the world? - But sometimes ’ere the light - Glimmers dawn-pearled to splash the feet of night, - Ere red, sun-gilded riot floods the sky, - A whisper, swelling to a ringing cry, - Tells me he’s living still. No lash could sting - Like this persistent voice re-echoing - That mocks me as I stumble to my feet. - O, shall I find him wandering in the street? - But every beckoning corner drags me past - Strangers, new faces, each one like the last - Dull, cold, inscrutable. At times I caught - The look--the walk--the gesture that I sought; - And once with throbbing veins I found those eyes - That shone like pools in sea-blue ecstasies, - But looked beyond me--cold expressionless - In vacant wonder at my helplessness, - Then, haunted by that stare, - Beaten, I knew the bedrock of despair. - O, Thou who poised the world, are all my tears - Too light, too pitiful to reach Thine ears? - Locksmith of happiness, aloof, apart, - Am I too impotent to touch Thine heart? - Tell me he’s dead or dying; say he stands - Seeking for guidance the warm touch of hands, - Doomed in an instant to eternal night, - With only mind and memory for sight-- - For I could cheer him. - But Lord quench this drought, - The unfathomable immensity of doubt, - Tell me he’s maimed or crippled, torn or blind, - Staring through eyes that show his wandering mind-- - Tell me he’s rotting in a place abhorred,-- - Not this, not this, O Lord! - - - - - TWO TRENCH POEMS - - - I - - THE STORM NIGHT - - Peal after peal of splitting thunder rolls - (Still roar the howling guns, and star-shells rise) - We perish, drowned in anger-blasted holes, - Give ear, O Lord! Our very manhood cries, - Shell-fodder yea--but spare our human souls - From fury-shaken skies! - - - II - - RESURRECTION - - Five million men are dead. How can the worth - Of all the world redeem such waste as this? - And yet the spring is clamorous of birth, - And whispering in winter’s chrysalis - Glad tidings to each clod, each particle of earth. - So the year’s Easter triumphs. Shall we then - Mourn for the dead unduly, and forget - The resurrection in the hearts of men? - Even the poppy on the parapet - Shall blossom as before when Summer blows again. - - - - - GOMMECOURT - - - I - - The wind, which heralded the blackening night, - Swirled in grey mists the sulphur-laden smoke. - From sleep, in sparkling instancy of light, - Crouched batteries like grumbling tigers woke - And stretched their iron symmetry; they hurled - Skyward with roar and boom each pregnant shell - Rumbling on tracks unseen. Such tyrants reign - The sullen masters of a mangled world, - Grim-mothered in a womb of furnaced hell, - Wrought, forged, and hammered for the work of pain. - - For six long days the common slayers played, - Till, fitfully, there boomed a heavier king, - Who, couched in leaves and branches deftly laid, - And hid in dappled colour of the spring, - Vaunted tornadoes. Far from that covered lair, - Like hidden snares the sinuous trenches lay - Mid fields where nodding poppies show their pride. - The tall star-pointed streamers leap and flare, - And turn the night’s immensity to day; - Or rockets whistle in their upward ride. - - - II - - The moment comes when thrice-embittered fire - Proclaims the prelude to the great attack. - In ruined heaps, torn saps and tangled wire - And battered parapets loom gaunt and black: - The flashes fade, the steady rattle dies, - A breathless hush brings forth a troubled day, - And men of sinew, knit to charge and stand, - Rise up. But he of words and blinded eyes - Applauds the puppets of his ghastly play, - With easy rhetoric and ready hand. - - Unlike those men who waited for the word, - Clean soldiers from a country of the sea; - These were no thong-lashed band or goaded herd - Tricked by the easy speech of tyranny. - All the long week they fought encircling Fate, - While chaos clutched the throat and shuddered past - As phantoms haunt a child, and softly creep - Round cots, so Death stood sentry at the Gate - And beckoned waiting terror, till at last - He vanished at the hurrying touch of sleep. - - The beauty of the Earth seemed doubly sweet - With the stored sacraments the Summer yields-- - Grass-sunken kine, and softly-hissing wheat, - Blue-misted flax, and drowsy poppy fields. - But with the vanished day Remembrance came - Vivid with dreams, and sweet with magic song, - Soft haunting echoes of a distant sea - As from another world. A belt of flame - Held the swift past, and made each moment long - With the tense horror of mortality. - - That easy lordling of the Universe - Who plotted days that stain the path of time, - For him was happy memory a curse, - And Man a scapegoat for a royal crime. - In lagging moments dearly sacrificed - Men sweated blood before eternity: - In cheerful agony, with jest and mirth, - They shared the bitter solitude of Christ - In a new Garden of Gethsemane, - Gethsemane walled in by crested earth. - - They won the greater battle, when each soul - Lay naked to the needless wreck of Mars; - Yet, splendid in perfection, faced the goal - Beyond the sweeping army of the stars. - Necessity foretold that they must die - Mangled and helpless, crippled, maimed and blind, - And cursed with all the sacrilege of war-- - To force a nation to retract a lie, - To prove the unchartered honour of Mankind, - To show how strong the silent passions are. - - - III - - The daylight broke and brought the awaited cheer, - And suddenly the land is live with men. - In steady waves the infantry surge near; - The fire, a sweeping curtain, lifts again. - A battle-plane with humming engines swerves, - Gleams like a whirring dragon-fly, and dips, - Plunging cloud-shadowed in a breathless fall - To climb undaunted in far-reaching curves. - And, swaying in the clouds like anchored ships, - Swing grim balloons with eyes that fathom all. - - But as the broad-winged battle-planes outsoared - The shell-rocked skies, blue fields of cotton flowers, - When bombs like bolts of thunder leapt and roared, - And mighty moments faded into hours, - The curtain fire redoubled yet again: - The grey defence reversed their swift defeat - And rallied strongly; whilst the attacking waves, - Snared in a trench and severed from the main, - Were driven fighting in a forced retreat - Across the land that gaped with shell-turned graves. - - - IV - - The troubled day sped on in weariness - Till Night drugged Carnage in a drunken swoon. - Jet-black, with spangling stars athwart her dress - And pale in the shafted amber of the moon, - She moved triumphant as a young-eyed queen - In silent dignity: her shadowed face - Scarce veiled by gossamer clouds, that scurrying ran - Breathless in speed the high star-lanes between. - She passed unheeding ’neath the dome of space, - And scorned the petty tragedy of Man. - - And one looked upward, and in wonder saw - The vast star-soldiered army of the sky. - Unheard, the needless blasphemy of War - Shrank at that primal splendour sweeping by. - The moon’s gold-shadowed craters bathed the ground-- - (Pale queen, she hunted in her pathless rise - Lithe blackened raiders that bomb-laden creep) - But now the earth-walled comfort wrapped him round, - And soon in lulled forgetfulness he lies - Where soldiers clasping arms like children sleep. - - Sleep held him as a mother holds her child: - Sleep the soft calm that levels hopes and fears, - Now stilled his brain and scarfed his eyelids wild, - And sped the transient misery of tears, - Until the dawn’s sure prophets cleft the night - With opal shafts, and streamers tinged with flame, - Swift merging riot of the turbaned East. - Through rustling gesture loomed the advancing light; - Through fitful eddying winds, grey vanguards came - Rising in billowy mountains silver-fleeced. - - And with the dawn came action, and again - The spiteful interplay of static war: - Dogged, with grim persistence Blood and Pain - Rose venomous to greet the Morning Star. - But others watched that lonely sentinel - Chase fleeting fellow-stars before the day; - Fresh men heard tides of thunder ebb and flow. - --Stumbling in sleep, scarce heeding shot or shell, - The men who fought at Gommecourt filed away: - The poppies nodded as they passed below. - - They left the barren wilderness behind, - And Gommecourt gnarled and dauntless, till they came - To fields where trees unshattered took the wind, - Which tossed the crimson poppy heads to flame. - But one stood musing at a waking thought - That spurred his blood and dimmed his searching eyes-- - The primal thought that stirs the seed to birth. - Here where the battling nations clashed and fought - The common grass still breathed of Paradise - And Love with silent lips was Lord of Earth. - - B. E. F. 1916. - - - - - A VISION - - - Before the dawn wind swept the troubled sky - And stirred the stricken trenches far and wide, - I saw the Lord of Holiness pass by, - With Mary at His side. - - With Mary Michael passed, for I could hear - His clashing arms, and see his spangled sword. - Loudly I cried out, “Mother!” then in fear, - “O Mother of our Lord.” - - For in her eyes all human sorrow burned, - All tenderness lay naked when she smiled; - And once she stooped to kiss, and once she turned - And shuddered like a child. - - He moved through all the surge and clash of war, - The King of Kings since Brotherhood began; - But in His still and shadowed face I saw - The agony of Man. - - And as I gazed, the ruined fields of France - Loomed to the dawn in shades of shifting grey; - Dumbly I stood to arms, as in a trance - I watched the climbing day. - - Was this a dream? Yet Mary saw the sky, - Lit by a vision from the darkness hurled; - A little dream which made a baby cry-- - A dream which saved the world. - - - - - REVELATION - - - Can death give you such dignity, and pride - So beautiful it puts our grief to shame? - For now we stumble as we speak your name, - Yet you were just a boy before you died. - We question blankly, pondering heavy-eyed, - Can this be he we used to praise or blame - In careless moments, ere the trial came - When all the bravest hearts in anguish cried? - Then, humbled, we beheld our poor disguise, - False moods and manners clothed in empty speech - Which drowned the silence--till there came a day - That smote our vision to awakened eyes: - For God bent down to bring you to our reach, - But ere we touched you, you had gone away. - - - - - TELL ME, STRANGER - - - Tell me, Stranger, is it true - There is magic happening, - Are _all_ the dappled fields of Kew - Bowing to their Lord the Spring? - - Are the bluebells chaste and mute - Dancing in each dale and hollow - Dew-sprinkled, with a glad salute - To omnipotent Apollo? - - Tell me, do the feathered creatures - Flutter as in days of yore, - What are the “distinctive features” - Of the Swallow’s Flying Corps? - - Here there is no magic, Stranger. - Save within our merry souls-- - For some wanton god in anger - Punches earth with gaping holes. - - Yet the stifled land is showing - Here and there a touch of grace, - And the marshalled clouds are blowing - Through the aerodromes of space. - - Hate is strong, but Love is stronger, - And the world shall wake to birth - When the touch of man no longer - Stays the touch of God from Earth. - - Tell me, Stranger, is it true - There is magic happening, - Are _all_ the dappled fields of Kew - Bowing to their Lord the Spring? - - B. E. F., _April, 1917_. - - - - - SPRING IN THE TRENCHES - - - The racing clouds have borne her message down - And blown a thrilling rumour, from the far - Heart-centres of each crowded port and town, - And up the flowing arteries of War. - Life, life, green tales of corn in sprouting blades, - Of swallows crowding with sea-sprinkled wings - And ash-buds amber-gummed round close-furled green. - High blossom mantling murmurous orchard glades - In air a-tingle April-sweet and keen-- - Ah, we have heard of wondrous happenings. - - For now the magic carnivals begin - The lilac broods in honeyed secrecy, - And dappled lawns are changed: a Harlequin - Has brushed the tangled carpet silently. - We know how white narcissus fills the lake - With dancing shadows; how in open blue - A chestnut builds her clustered pyramids, - And down below anemones awake; - Long-hushed the violets open wide their lids - And all the dreamed-of fantasy comes true. - - Glad tidings thrill the re-awakened earth - By daffodils and blue-bells heralded; - Spring with her van imperial comes forth - To herald Summer proudly canopied - Beneath the bowing leaves. Persistent Spring - Bestirs the seed enshrined in Winter’s store; - And even round the parapet a breath - Of far-flung prophecy is clamouring: - “Behold new life within the tomb of death - “Importunate and vivid as before.” - - - - - ON THE ROAD - - - We halted, with the urgent Spring behind - Our straining teams, where all the land was black, - And huddled woods lay beaten, starkly blind: - Their mangled branches loomed athwart the track - Grotesque and terrible. Yet near the way, - A river, scatheless as the open sea, - Flowed like a breathing hope that cannot die - In desolation. Now, at setting day, - Moored water lilies, pale as argent sky, - Cling to the twilight fading silently. - - Such is the tale of memory, ere night - Had deepened, and our weary convoy slept - Beside the way. Slow-rising points of light - Twinkled amid the spangled netting swept - Across the ebon desert; and a gleam - Pierced the cloud-woven pillows of the moon. - Now slumber freed me from the iron cage - That bound the snarling war; and, in a dream, - The panorama of a dawning age - Unrolled, a world slow-waking from a swoon. - - Before my gaze a teeming city loomed - Gay with the bustling clamour of the street-- - The very town an easy word had doomed - And cast in ashes at the trampling feet - Of mortal gods. Street, corner, square and place, - Seemed woken from a long and squalid trance-- - I saw a nation growing like a flower; - A nation true and loyal to a race - That forged an army of clean-soldiered power - Wrought by the common chivalry of France. - - Here was no arrogance of martial pride, - The fireside boast that sows the fatal seed, - For happiness had come from those who died - Stark of delusion and the deadly creed - Of false romance. I saw a world reborn-- - The very battlefield was robed again - In lines of chequered land, and bordered round - With stretching roads and rills. The poppied corn - Held rubies set in gold, and far beyond - Lay a surf-ravelled sea and swarded plain. - - I marvelled, till oblivion shadowed all, - Blurred in the dawning light of every day. - It was so true, I scarcely heard the call - To feed and water and to move away. - We stretched our limbs, and packed each heavy load; - Moved on, and left the weary night behind, - Through torn and withered trees that stared aghast; - Yet, through the veil that shrouded all the road - I saw new radiance in the land we passed, - And heard a sudden murmur in the wind. - - B. E. F., 1917. - - - - - KEATS, BEFORE ACTION - - - A little moment more--O, let me hear - (The thunder rolls above, and star-shells fall) - Those melodies unheard re-echo clear - Before the shuddering moment closes all. - They come--they come--they answer to my call, - That Grecian throng of graven ecstasies, - Hyperion aglow in blazing skies, - And Cortez with the wonder in his eyes. - In battle-wreaths of smoke they rise, and fall - Beyond--beyond recall. - - Now all is silent, still, and magic-keen - (Yet thunder rolls above and star-shells fall) - And slowly pacing, rides a faery queen - Wild eyed and singing to a knight in thrall. - Enough--enough--let lightning whip me bare - And leave me naked in the howling air - My body broken here, and here, and here. - Beauty is truth, truth beauty--that is all, - The very all in all. - - - - - THE SOMME - - - _From Amiens to Abbeville_ - _My swollen waters race,_ - _And silver-veined by many a rill_ - _Green hamlets thrive apace._ - _From Amiens to Abbeville_ - _I labour at the listless mill,_ - _And tempt the nodding daffodil_ - _To blur my open face._ - _But south of Amiens I flow_ - _Past dumb Peronne and Brie,_ - _The peopled land I used to know_ - _Now all belongs to me._ - _Yet phantom armies come and go,_ - _And shadows hurry to and fro;_ - _Again my seething battles grow_ - _In murdered Picardy._ - - Behold the mother of a soil forlorn; - I suckled towns, and fed the forest land, - Behold my shattered villages and mourn - How should I understand? - - Why are those huts o’erpatched like dappled kine, - What are those weary men in blue and brown, - And humming craft that search my sinuous line; - Why should my name re-echo with renown - Past every phantom town? - But still my lily-breasted waters shine, - And still I chant my shadowy ripples down. - - From peace through war my waters flow, - To peace again at sea, - The peopled land I used to know - Now all belongs to me. - Though battling armies come and go, - I toil and spin, I reap and sow, - And poppy-mantled meadows blow - In murdered Picardy. - - My eddies bear the clinging scent of lime - To sweeten clouds of plume-tossed meadowsweet; - My meadow grasses nestle with the thyme - And flowering rushes tower in the heat. - Low-brushing swifts and swallows splashed with white - O’er flash my laden mirrors slow and deep - That bear swift-merging canopies of sleep. - Until the growing light - Has chased marauding owls, and butterflies, - Born of blue-woven skies, - Flutter away like hare-bells spurred to flight. - But who are these? The powdered butterfly - Outshines that air leviathan that swings - In rigid curves adown the barren sky, - With cloudy satellites about her wings. - And I have seen - Dark horsemen ride with spears of tapered steel; - And bellowing guns beneath the far balloons. - And once a ponderous slug bedecked in green - Crept, in the waning moon’s - Still-darkening gloom, and at her giant heel - White-gleaming, ran a train of hooded cars.... - - I triumph, triumph, search my sinuous line - Amid the snarling impotence of wars. - Turn where you will. Look, there a signboard shows - The lair of guns; already round the sign - White trumpeting convolvuli entwine - Their clinging arms, across the placard blows - A quiet-breathing rose. - And still my lily-breasted waters shine - And loud my chanting grows: - - From peace through war my waters flow - To peace again at sea, - The peopled land I used to know - Now all belongs to me. - Though battling armies come and go - I toil and spin, I reap and sow, - And poppy-mantled meadows blow - In murdered Picardy. - - - - - SOMME FLOWER TALK - - - Said the Cornflower to the Pimpernel, - “O sudden scarlet eyes, - You never bloomed till ploughing shell - Laid bare earth’s sanctities!” - - Then upward cried the Pimpernel: - “Blue head in deeper blue, - ’Tis strange this former waste of Hell - Is Paradise anew. - - “But who is Lord of Paradise - And Commandant; and who - Commands sky-faring butterflies - All camouflaged in blue? - - “Are dandelion parachutes - His messages, and do - Those armoured beetles clamber roots - With news from Army Q? - - “Above each water-lily ship - The feathered red caps pipe. - Because the pear has earned a pip, - The tiger-moth a stripe. - - “The gorse artillery has eyes - We never knew before. - And lady bees can organise - The Honey Service Corps. - - “Field-marshals rule the war behind - The guns, but Summer shields - Here in the clash of human kind - Her marshal of the fields.” - - - - - TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING. - - - “He too! He too!” The veteran paused, the sound - Of a light paper fluttering to the ground - Rustled the twilight peace. “He--too--is--dead--” - His wife, scarce faltering from the words she read, - Stared at the glowing sun, the while her eyes - Shone mistily in nameless agonies. - Five sons, and four were dead! - The clock ticked desolation to their ears - And silence gripped the moments as they passed - Too terrible, too passionless for tears. - At last, - Stronger than he, she curbed herself and smiled - And held him weeping like a weary child - Before the first immensity of pain. - Yet once again - She conjured scenes beyond the darkened cloud - That blurred the soul’s horizon, as aloud - She spoke his name, and whispered little things - More pregnant than the utterance of kings. - - That night she moved, - Spurred by devotion for the man she loved, - Without a pause for sorrow, or a breath - To murmur at the closing walls of death; - Love-steeled and queenly every step she trod; - She climbed unfaltering, serenely browed, - Until she touched the very feet of God - Undaunted and unbowed. - And there in mystic awe - Slow-turning wheels of evolution spun - The poised and pulsing universe. She saw - All life and death synonymous, and birth - The dawn of human wonderment begun - (Birth of all birth) in other realms afar. - Below, ice pivoted revolved the earth, - A traveller’s joy it seemed, a mile-stone star, - Half-glowing, bathed in sun.... - - At dawn they met and found each other’s eyes, - Asked the same questions, sought the same replies: - Their last and youngest fought where harsh commands - Still goaded forward lashed and driven bands, - Where Vaux and Thiaumont twin sentinels - Loomed stalwartly. And still a howl of shells - Shattered the Verdun battlements in vain; - Still domineered that keen death-tutored brain - Behind an army deaf to angry scorn, - The boast forgotten and the mask outworn. - At length she spoke: “Go quickly now,” she said, - “Quick, the next hurrying hour may see him dead. - Find the Great Overlord and tell him all - Quick, for our boy may pass beyond recall - Meanwhile. He shall know happiness to come, - He, the last scion of our stricken home, - Shall blossom like a flower in early Spring - I say it, I who bore him. Time shall bring - The old primeval happiness to birth - If there be any justice upon earth.” - She ceased; it seemed her voice re-echoed still - As strung with hope he hurried on until - He reached the palace and besought for grace - To see his royal master face to face. - - That night in sudden joy he urged away - Across Lorraine, for in his wallet lay - An order blazoned with the royal seals. - Hour after hour the car’s revolving wheels - Rushed dizzily towards the high command - That held his son in fee. Around, the land - Awoke in changeless Spring. Four steady hours - They travelled, till the bloom of passing flowers - Brought tidings of the dawn. Then to his ears - Rumbled a distant thunder, sudden fears - Urged onward faster. Now the country showed - First signs of war-flung tentacles, the road - Lay pitted here and there, a wounded tree - No longer framed its lordly symmetry. - And soon the land whereon all life was stilled - Became as Man had willed. - At last his journey ended. Long delayed - He sought his goal, now pressing on, now stayed, - Until outside the place of high command - The royal warrant burning in his hand - He knocked--was bidden enter--tense and mute - He faced the marshal with a grave salute - And showed the royal word. - The crowded room was silent, no man stirred-- - A pause as long as death, then, dragged and slow, - A voice--“Your son was killed an hour ago.” - A clock importunately unconcerned - Repeated tick--tick--tick. His eyes discerned - A pen vague-sprawling, madly spiderwise. - Not a man glanced--Yet all the room had eyes: - Not a man spoke--Yet clamorous voices cried: - Stumbling, he walked outside. - - - - - IN THE MESS - - - I sat alone although the mess - Was full, when--quick as tears - A song of naked happiness - Came singing in my ears. - - I summoned strength to kill a cry - And mad desire to weep; - Then, glancing round me guiltily, - Found everyone asleep! - - - - - A TRENCH INCIDENT - - - We waited, as the thundering curtain swept - Our sector, and torn shards of iron fell; - Dust from the parapet in showers leapt - Swirled up by bursting shell. - - We waited, like a storm-bespattered ship - That flutters sail to free her grounded keel; - The tingling moments tightened every grip - On rifles lanced with steel. - - We knew the man who led us. All could hear - His ringing voice re-echo loud and strong, - Born of that higher bravery when fear. - Is battled into song. - - Then sudden fury lulled and far behind - Like angered beasts our batteries replied-- - And suddenly he stumbled, dazed and blind. - He lay, but ere he died - - He struggled for a while, then dimly smiled, - Wrapped in the comradeship of happy things, - Before he entered like a wondering child - The heritage of kings. - - - - - REALITY - - - Below my room the noise and measured beat - Of marching men re-echoed loud and clear; - Now bobbing cavalry swung down the street; - Now mules and rumbling batteries drew near. - But all is dim--The rolling wagon-stream - To Amiens between the aspen trees, - The stables, billets, men and horses, seem - Dead mummers of forgotten fantasies. - - Only my dreams are still aglow, a throng - Of scenes that crowded through a waiting mind - A myriad scenes: For I have swept along - To foam ashriek with gulls, and rowed behind - Brown oarsmen swinging to an ocean song - Where stately galleons bowed before the wind. - - - - -“WE POETS OF THE PROUD OLD LINEAGE” - - - Apart we labour, and alone we climb - The barren heights; for we the singing throng - Whose lives were hallowed by impassioned song - Must die or prove unworthy of our rhyme. - Man after man--we know the price of wars - Who watched the mask of Night whilst others slept, - And spread our laughter far and wide, but kept - Our tears and terror privy to the stars. - - 0 magic gift omnipotent, to sing - And conjure Heaven from surrounding Hell. - Our lips and eyes are touched (for we have seen - Celestial weavers at the loom of Spring). - But O the iron bitterness and keen - Of voices ever clamouring farewell! - - - - - III - - MISCELLANEOUS POEMS - - - - - SONG - - - Would I could commandeer the bees - To hum you droning symphonies. - I love the climbing thoughts that rise - To the sheer heaven of your eyes, - Wide laughter-dromes of wondering blue, - Yes, yes, I do! - - But when I sing of bubbling seas, - The zephyr-clapping hands of trees - Applauding in tumultuous skies, - Or window-winged dragonflies, - Or anything that’s good and true - I sing of you-- - Yes, yes, I do! - - - - - THE SHADOW - - - I stood one night where rivers pause to meet - And mingle in the traffic-rumbling sea: - The surge and clamour of a London street, - In tides alternate, rolled, impassively. - Before my feet - Ran shouting boys, and through the pallid glare - Loomed gaunt leviathans that swayed and roared - Past glittering shops, and stations which outpoured - Load after weary load; and everywhere - Strange sounds, a snatch of laughter, shout or word, - Sleek-coated motor-cars that softly purred - Round corners sounding with the rustling beat - Of hurried swarms of feet. - And yet I seemed alone, and dumb-amazed - Before a towering building, wherein blazed - One staring patch of light, one amber square - That shone enshrouded by the dome of night - High in the naked air. And still I gazed - Until a shadow passed across the blind: - A shadow-woman pacing time away - Beside a bed, wherein a poet lay - Dying, dying. One whose mind - (A womb of beauty whereof love was lord) - Had fashioned symphonies of thought and word - Impassionately sweet. And suddenly - She paused--I saw the shadow of her hand - Stretch out and shudder back. I saw her stand - All sorrow-bound in graven dignity. - She bowed her head, her shoulders taut with pain, - Her figure burdened with the weight of tears. - Then all grew dark. And in my waking ears - The traffic surged again. - - - - - EVERYCHILD - - - We take you through Pacific seas - To islands strange and new, - Where howling monkeys scale the trees - Alive with humming-birds and bees, - Where shiny seals and porpoises - Snort in the rolling blue. - - Then quicker than a shaft of light - We shear the arctic foam, - And lounging bears of polar white - Roar loudly through the dancing night, - And drive the killer-whales to flight-- - Upon the floor at home. - - O hear the chant of Eastern song - Beneath Arabian stars, - Where camels slowly stalk along - And gleaming Arabs, tall and strong, - Buy gold and merchandise among - The riot of bazaars! - - The glow-worms crawl excitedly - And trim their lamps o’ night; - For often, ere the moon is high, - Bat-harnessed walnut-shells flit by - To bear them to the waiting sky - And set the stars alight. - - The nodding poplars understand - And birds and beasts and flowers: - And we shall wander hand in hand - With better things than Peter Panned-- - O what is footlight fairyland - Beside this world of ours? - - What matter if the clouds are grey - Or winter-keen and wild, - When you and I have found a way - To turn November into May; - For Everyjoy is Everyday - And Everyman a child. - - - - - CHILD OF THE FLOWING TIDE - - - Away to the call of the racing sea-- - (Child of the flowing tide) - A hundred chargers of ivory, - And two of them saddled for you and for me, - Are pawing and stamping the surf to be free - Where the wild sea-horses ride. - The deep water shall roar as we race from the shore - On the back of the flowing tide. - - O hurry, the moon is away in the sky - (Child of the flowing tide) - With your heels well down, and your heart set high - You’re saddled and bridled, and so am I; - So gather your reins, for the foam will fly - Where the wild sea-horses ride. - Grip tight with your knees as you gallop the seas - On the back of the flowing tide. - - On the wide lagoon I’ll meet you to-night - (Child of the flowing tide) - When the moon swings high and the stars are alight - And the roaring sea-chargers are ready to fight: - Their manes are all foam and their coats are all white - Where the wild sea-horses ride. - The deep waters shall roar as we race from the shore - On the back of the flowing tide. - - - - - EIGHT SONNETS - - - I - - I Tremble at the outset, for I know - How rhythm halts and rhyme rings falsely true. - Yet courage, your disciple, bids me show - That speech may offer sacrifice to you. - Vain boast! For if success in splendour came - Poised faultlessly in lines of perfect stress, - I must fall short of it in very shame - Unworthy of my sonnet’s worthiness. - - But should I fail, and feel the words I sought - Elusive, or bedecked with frail disguise - Of tattered sentiment, that risk I dare - Not hazard in the winding maze of thought, - Lest I should stir the wonder in your eyes - Or wind a little tangle in your hair. - - - II - - So let me fail: what matter if the wise - And worldly whisper, who so poor as they? - For everywhere alike the common way - Has now become an earthly paradise. - And where you walk the very pavement cries - Of blue-bells, April-chimed, and fawns at play; - And London seems a sylvan holiday - Of flower-hunting bees and butterflies. - - So let me fail, for where I could succeed - How mean the quest, a climber gazing down - From the low vantage of some petty hill. - But chance success would be the gambler’s thrill - Who plays with God for worlds, and wins indeed - The whole of Paradise for half-a-crown! - - - III - - I Have no room for jealous gods, and find - No ring of joy or laughter in the Creed, - Nor shall my great possession be resigned - In fear or favour of my spirit’s need. - For joy is mine, and mine the teeming years - Unfettered in a world impassionate; - Not mine a sorrowed Calvary of tears - Where love was vassal to the lords of hate. - - Let others bow before a God unknown - Enshrined in words they dimly understand. - Let every man make Paradise his own-- - My Goddess breathes and leads me by the hand - O hush! I dare not speak of it alone, - ’Tis all too wonderful and strangely planned! - - - IV - - Day after day my growing pinions beat - Impatiently. Yet, in a place unclean - I sought the dwarfed, the petty and obscene, - And aped the clownish mummers of the street; - Till suddenly the world grew strangely sweet, - All eager at a touch, and thrilling-keen; - With half-forgotten hands I strove unseen - To mould a little planet at your feet. - - You spoke and there was light, and slowly grew - My teeming world of verse, a brotherhood - Of music, thought, and wonder, born anew, - Alive, aglow, in every varied mood. - And when the waking truth is bursting through - I feel you bend to see that all is good. - - - V - - If I had seen what hourly happiness - In this my world your being could ordain, - How then should I have trysted with distress - And misery the cringing friend of pain? - If I had seen beyond the looming years - Your shadow, grief had haunted me in vain, - For what are cataracts of human tears - Beside the boundless laughter of the main? - - O barren days bygone! Now every field - Wakes clamorous with dawning life conceived, - So has the magic universe revealed - Whole happiness to one who half believed-- - Whole happiness, and in my heart concealed - Wide wonder at the sacrament received. - - - VI - - “Great men and happy years,” you say from these - Your knowledge came, and your diviner powers - More thrilling than the honey-womb of flowers - Or the bright star-foam of the Pleiades. - So, did you learn the droning lore of bees - From some be-medalled soldier? Did you meet - Madonna-hearted statesmen in the street, - Or bishops, babbling of the opal seas? - - O poor deceiver, conscript joys belong - To you as homage. For the happy years - Bear fruit to-day, and blossom like the flowers - That breathe of summertime in after hours. - For you were loyal to a creed of Song - Nor ever stooped to misery and tears. - - - VII - - Would I could throw my stuttering self away - And shrine the soul wherein all wonders beat, - Would I were you, for one brief holiday - The whole shy universe before my feet. - O happiness, to know joy’s secret mine, - To hold adoring ministers in fee, - Narcissus-like to bless the Serpentine - And with the stars outdance Terpsichore. - - For once a poet sang of happiness, - But now, like running flame, glad voices say-- - “Joy is the sheer antithesis of wrong.” - Enough,--and I, no longer comradeless, - Behold exultant on the world’s highway - Your being, and the proof of Pippa’s song. - - - VIII - - When you are old and dancing shadows play - Around the sky-blown laughter in your eyes - Shall I, unworthy of your new disguise, - Forget the sacrament and go away? - Shall I adore, like sorrowed men to-day, - The child who gurgled in first ecstasies - At oxen (Mary said) that mooed surprise - And snuffed with wondering muzzles in the hay? - - O leave the past--the living world is mine - Warm, passionate, and breathing. Even so - Shall Life in after years make Earth divine - And fire shall burn as long as embers glow. - But he who babbled to the wondering kine - Is dead, long dead, two thousand years ago. - - - - - KEATS - - - Touch me, O Lord, and let my sonnet ring - With echoes. Now his words of crowned belief - In raging hours of pain and suffering - Too high for praise, too terrible for grief, - Ring loud and clear. Last night his chariot rolled - And I beheld him urge amid the stars - Cloud-fashioned steeds of snow moon-aureoled, - Himself a charioteer equipped for wars. - - Faster and faster--men of Blood and Pain - Opposed in vast battalions, but he - Rolled back their army to the dark again - And triumphed while he sang exultingly - As now he sings. Boy of the glowing brain, - Dear Keats your name is Paradise to me! - - - - - MEETING HER IN THE STREET - - - She’s coming down the road! You know - Those laughter-woken eyes? - I beckon at the stars--But O - If she should recognise: - - Nearer and nearer yet she trod - Till (mad blood-dancing joy) - Down from the planet-fields of God - She nodded, “Hullo, Boy.” - - - - - HER HOMAGE - - - Silence outlives the argument of kings - And best is dumb applause. Behold, she moves: - No soft-winged owlets blink, no cricket sings, - Before she greets the murmuring world she loves. - Now twirling parachutes of sycamore - Hang waiting, and the rippled trout-rings die, - The murmur round a jasmine honey store - Is still--a linnet falters suddenly. - - From out the reeds an awe-struck otter peers - As eerie quiet speeds from bush to bush: - High Summer stands on tip-toe as She nears - The woods, and magic numbs the missel-thrush: - Above still grasses prick the listening ears - Of rabbits, and a squirrel whispers “Hush!” - - - - - REACTION - - - Afraid, afraid, I sought the kindly night - In fear that mocking fools should scrutinise - The beauty I discovered in men’s eyes, - And mock me as a dreaming anchorite. - For long in fear I sinned against the light - And shrouded Poetry with vain disguise; - Before I sang, unconscious as the skies, - Self-chanting songs to me supreme delight. - - But now, O littlest of all little minds, - High-browed, alone, aloof, you little know - How like you are to Brown, who lifts the blinds - Of his suburban villa, just to show - That he alone is up, but always finds - The neighbourhood awoke an hour ago! - - - - - APRIL - - - How much are you achieving - O April day, - By orchard looms a-weaving - All apple-gay? - Tie on your cherry blossom, clothe your squills - Madonna-blue, and give your daffodils - Their collars of pale straw, and come away, - Your rain-awoken hills - Shall welcome May. - - What is behind your weeping - O April tears? - Your lilac plumes are sweeping, - Your silken spears - Of chestnut bristle in the changing sky - Whilst herded clouds foregather, ’neath the high - Storm-loud arena’s thundering charioteers: - And beckoned silently - The swallow nears. - - - - - MAY-JUNE - - - Now is the swaddling husk of Winter shed, - And waking Summer, robed in windy showers, - Is heralded from silvered aspen towers - And orchards in high blossom garlanded. - Now sunlight, in the plumed laburnum flowers - And purple lilac, trembles overhead; - And bees a-drone in field and flower bed - Make clamorous the trade of teeming hours. - - Now the sweet-pea, all honey-laden, shows - Full-swollen sails, her mooring ropes of green - Encircle twigs. And soon the primrose queen - Lights her pale lamps of Evening ’mid the glows - Of brazen flower-suns, that burn between - The yawning honeysuckle and the rose. - - - - - THE STROLLING SINGER - - - Sun-bathed in Summer peace the village lay - That afternoon. Along the happy street - Milk-fragrant kine, and wagons high with hay - Came lumbering. The fields were loud with bees - And drowsy with the wind-stirred meadowsweet. - From bowing trees - Fell chatter, and above the garden wall - Wide sunflowers beamed at spearing hollyhocks - That dared the wind, and scorned the clustered stocks, - And bore their laddered blooms high over all. - - Here amid Summer murmur and delight - The strolling singer came. The people heard - Stray snatches of a song--a laugh--a word, - And gossiping in groups of two or three - Stood all amazed. For no one came in sight, - Only the wind was laden drowsily - With mellow sounds that slowly growing strong - At last became a song:-- - - “Bend down, the marsh and meadow holds - Pale yellow pimpernels, - And sun-begotten marigolds, - Thyme, orchis, asphodels, - And borage born of ocean blue, - Plumed armoured thistles, fever-few, - Sea-campion globed, and clinging dew - In giant flower-bells. - - “Bend down--an ebon beetle prowls, - And there a swinging bee - Drinks honey from the laden cowls - That clothe the foxglove tree. - And giant peacock butterflies - Light meadowsweet with sudden eyes, - And through the tangled grasses rise - Lucerne and timothy.” - - Louder and louder grew the voice, until - A figure specked the heaven-touching hill, - And nearer, nearer, still ... - The villagers in mingled fear and awe - Stood round on tiptoe waiting. Soon they saw - A little sylvan man with beckoning eyes - And limbs of lithe expression. Woven flowers - And grasses, splashed with rainbow-tinted showers, - And jewelled with alluring butterflies, - Enwrapped him. Russet face, clear-featured, gay - As pebble-rumpled streams, and tousled hair - Sun-dyed and naked. His limbs were bronzed and bare, - And sprang, it seemed, from the wild interplay - Of flower-woven garb. Around his waist - Twined traveller’s-joy and honeysuckle, sweet - And freshly dewed, and on his lissom feet - Were pointed shoes of silver beech rush-laced. - - The village gazed in silence, till a child - Began:--“Who are you, funny man? - Your face seems to be telling truth, your eyes - Are just the colour of blue butterflies, - O tell us who you are?” - The stranger smiled, - And turned his face that bore the wistful, far, - Strange wonder-look of one whose dreams come true, - Who delves in darkened quarries of his brain - Unhoped-for gold, and changes old to new - As Spring rejuvenates the earth again. - Of one who plays Narcissus in Life’s pool - And sees an image strangely beautiful ... - Then suddenly they heard him cry:-- - - “Come buy, - I own the laughing earth. - And all my chanted words are deeds; - I follow where my fancy leads, - And sell my songs for mirth. - What will you buy? - - “Speak hurriedly, and choose your song, - The poplar’s shadow creeps along, - Search hurriedly the Earth and Sky, - What will you buy?” - - Meanwhile a crowd had gathered, in a ring; - The butcher, grocer, postman, parson, clerk, - And all the village, open-mouthed and stark, - Stood mutely marvelling; - And children clamoured round him with large eyes - And pelted him for songs, like countless hail, - With pleadings, shouts and cries:-- - - Sing us a song of Paradise, - Of railway engines, fawns, - Of stolen queens in guarded towers, - Of sprites and leprechauns”-- - O HUSH! All were dumb-- - “Boy in blue smock, sucking your thumb, - With hair like a tangled chrysanthemum, - What would you like me to sing, Ocean-eyed?” - - Loud the boy’s answer rang, - “_I_ want a song of flowers!” - And this is the song he sang: - - “Sisters of mercy are Cyclamen, - Snowdrops and Arums too, - But Primulus, Violets, Stocks, Mignonette, - Crocus aflame, and the Never Forget, - Are chaster than chastity too. - Now sulphur Laburnum and Lilac, adieu, - Good-bye April children to you! - For who - Will climb up the flowers of my Hollyhock towers - With butterfly steeple-jacks blue? - - But, climber, beware! - Of Love-in-a-mist in a tangle of hair, - Of thistly Teazles, and winged Sweet-Peas - With tentacle tendrils that strangle with ease, - Of butterfly Orchis a-clamour for bees. - For Dragon may Snap you, and Sundew may trap you, - Before you have started, before you have parted - The grass at the foot of my Hollyhock trees. - But think of the view - Of the whole garden side! - We’ll charter a dragon-fly homeward, and ride - Down to our Rosemary, Marjoram, Rue, - Lavender, London Pride.” - - All watched him, held, bewitched, and with him clung - To the green tops of slowly swaying towers, - Where bees had scattered pollen-dust, that hung - Above the teeming nectaries of flowers, - And all again were young. - But now the poplars cast their phantom bars - In latticed shadows; now a scarf unfurled, - Like parrot-tulip petals hued and torn, - Across the West was flung. - And now, before the twilight bares the stars, - Ere jewelled night is born, - All silently the Singer left the world. - Beyond the hill he passed, - But singing all the while; first loud and strong. - Then fainter, till at last - Came only jumbled echoes of a song:-- - - “Bend down--the marsh and meadow holds - Pale yellow Pimpernels, - And sun-begotten Marigolds - Thyme, Orchis, Asphodels” ... - (Fainter and fainter it grew - Gentle as ebbing tide) - “Butterfly steeple-jacks blue” ... - (Fainter it grew - And died) - Echoing “Rosemary, Marjoram, Rue, - Lavender, London Pride” - - - - - THE FRENCH MOTHER TO HER UNBORN CHILD - - - Beat quietly, hid heart. - Build, little limbs, and brain divinely wrought, - Grow, grow in peace. Around, the pangs of war - Are powerless to cripple thee or mar - Thy sure perfection. But, if Death besought - For thee, our tethered souls could never part: - Beat quietly, hid heart. - Form, primal thought, - Close-furled and sheltered as the budding Spring - Unknown, unknowing, yet divinely planned. - But stay awhile, for sounds of battle ring. - Stir, little hand - Unrealized--I count the dragging hours - And yearn to see it clutch at yonder flowers; - To see thy lucent feet and dimpled frame - And gaze at heav’n-snatched eyes and know thy name, - But stay awhile. - For thou art best alone away from Man: - Wait longer, tears unshed and lurking smile - Of joy enshrined where every joy began. - Time hurries as the moments thump along - (Hark, little ears, my heart is beating strong) - Life is aglow, alive, a perfect song. - Around the land is ugly, but apart - I fashion thee in thought. Now hush, for sleep - Is here. Close, eyes unopened, voice unheard, - Be still. Grow on in beauty till day creep ... - Hark to my whispered word-- - Beat quietly, hid heart. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Geoffrey Dearmer - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 53818-0.txt or 53818-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/8/1/53818/ - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Geoffrey Dearmer - -Release Date: December 27, 2016 [EBook #53818] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt="" title="" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i"></a>{i}</span></p> - -<p class="cb">POEMS</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii"></a>{ii}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii"></a>{iii}</span> </p> - -<h1> -POEMS</h1> -<p class="c"> -BY<br /> -GEOFFREY DEARMER<br /> -<br /> -<img src="images/colophon.png" width="70" alt="colophon" title="" /> -<br /> -NEW YORK<br /> -Robert M. McBride & Company<br /> -1918<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv"></a>{iv}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a>{v}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="Dedication" id="Dedication"></a>Dedication<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">To</span> CHRISTOPHER<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">Killed, Suvla Bay, October 6th, 1915</span>.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>At Suvla when a sickening curse of sound</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Came hurtling from the shrapnel-shaken skies,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Without a word you shuddered to the ground</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And with a gesture hid your darkening eyes.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You are not blind to-day—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But were we blind before you went away?</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Forgive us then, if, faltering, we fail</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To speak in terms articulate of you;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Now Death’s celestial journeymen unveil</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Your naked soul—the soul we hardly knew.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>O beauty scarce unfurled,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Your blood shall help to purify the world.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Awakened now, no longer we believe</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Knight-errantry a myth of long ago.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Let us not shame your happiness and grieve;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>All close we feel you live and move, we know</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Your life shall ever be</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Close to our lives enshrined eternally.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vii" id="page_vii"></a>{vii}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi"></a>{vi}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FROM_W_BEACH">From “W” Beach</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_3">3</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_PRAYER">A Prayer</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_5">5</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FALLEN">Fallen</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_6">6</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TURKISH_TRENCH_DOG">The Turkish Trench Dog</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SENTINEL">The Sentinel</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MUDROS_AFTER_THE_EVACUATION">Mudros after the Evacuation</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_DEAD_TURK">The Dead Turk</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MISSING">Missing</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_17">17</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TWO_TRENCH_POEMS">Two Trench Poems</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_22">22</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GOMMECOURT">Gommecourt</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_24">24</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_VISION">A Vision</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#REVELATION">Revelation</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TELL_ME_STRANGER">Tell me, Stranger</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SPRING_IN_THE_TRENCHES">Spring in the Trenches</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ON_THE_ROAD">On the Road</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#KEATS_BEFORE_ACTION">Keats, before Action</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii"></a>{viii}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SOMME">The Somme</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_42">42</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SOMME_FLOWER_TALK">Somme Flower Talk</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_46">46</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_THE_UTTERMOST_FARTHING">To the Uttermost Farthing</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_THE_MESS">In the Mess</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_TRENCH_INCIDENT">A Trench Incident</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#REALITY">Reality</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WE_POETS_OF_THE_PROUD_OLD_LINEAGE">“We Poets of the Proud Old Lineage”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_56">56</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SONG">Song</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SHADOW">The Shadow</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_60">60</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#EVERYCHILD">Everychild</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_62">62</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHILD_OF_THE_FLOWING_TIDE">Child of the Flowing Tide</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_64">64</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#EIGHT_SONNETS">Eight Sonnets</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#KEATS">Keats</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_74">74</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MEETING_HER_IN_THE_STREET">Meeting Her in the Street</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_75">75</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HER_HOMAGE">Her Homage</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_76">76</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#REACTION">Reaction</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#APRIL">April</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_78">78</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MAY-JUNE">May-June</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_79">79</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_STROLLING_SINGER">The Strolling Singer</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_80">80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_FRENCH_MOTHER_TO_HER_UNBORN_CHILD">The French Mother to Her Unborn Child </a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>My thanks are due to the editors of the <i>Nineteenth Century</i>, <i>Cornhill -Magazine</i>, <i>Observer</i>, <i>New Statesman</i>, and <i>Westminster Gazette</i>, for -permission to reprint certain of these poems.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br /><br /> -THE DARDANELLES</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2"></a>{2}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3"></a>{3}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FROM_W_BEACH" id="FROM_W_BEACH"></a>FROM “W” BEACH</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> Isle of Imbros, set in turquoise blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lies to the westward; on the eastern side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The purple hills of Asia fade from view,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rolling battleships at anchor ride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">White flocks of cloud float by, the sunset glows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dipping gulls fleck a slow-waking sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where dim steel-shadowed forms with foaming bows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wind up the Narrows towards Gallipoli.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No colour breaks this tongue of barren land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save where a group of huddled tents gleams white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before me ugly shapes like spectres stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wooden crosses cleave the waning light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Celestial gardeners speed the hurrying day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sow the plains of night with silver grain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shall this transient havoc fade away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the proud cape be beautiful again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Laden with figs and olives, or a freight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of purple grapes, tanned singing men shall row,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chanting wild songs of how Eternal Fate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Withstood that fierce invasion long ago.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5"></a>{5}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_PRAYER" id="A_PRAYER"></a>A PRAYER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lord</span>, keep him near to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Revive his image, let my darkening sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Renew his life by death intensified<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(His beating life so pitifully tried)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we may face the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shade the agony.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We pray in barren stress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where stricken men await the shrill alarm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nightly watch, in silent order set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beckoning stars enshrine the parapet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord, keep his soul from harm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And grant him happiness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When all the world is free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, cleansed and purified by floods of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We turn, and see the light in human eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the last echo of War’s thunder dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord, let us pause again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In silent memory.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gallipoli, <i>October, 1915</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6"></a>{6}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FALLEN" id="FALLEN"></a>FALLEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> days shall darken and sink down to Night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Night shall break in the bleak dawn of Day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The years shall dim his face, our fleeting sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall see his splendid image fade away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the knowledge of our drifting thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which moves in circles to the source again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond dark seas with shivering stars inwrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond war-burdened men in stricken pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I searched in rage and passionate despair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down winding paths of thought, and comradeless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the full surge and tumult where he died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I turned; and saw my Brother standing there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His face was like a dawning happiness—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw wounds in his hands, his feet, his side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gallipoli, <i>October, 1915</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7"></a>{7}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_TURKISH_TRENCH_DOG" id="THE_TURKISH_TRENCH_DOG"></a>THE TURKISH TRENCH DOG</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Night</span> held me as I crawled and scrambled near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Turkish lines. Above, the mocking stars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silvered the curving parapet, and clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloud-latticed beams o’erflecked the land with bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, crouching, lay between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tense-listening armies peering through the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twin giants bound by tentacles unseen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in dim-shadowed light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw him, as a sudden movement turned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eyes towards me, glowing eyes that burned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A moment ere his snuffling muzzle found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My trail; and then as serpents mesmerise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He chained me with those unrelenting eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That muscle-sliding rhythm, knit and bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In spare-limbed symmetry, those perfect jaws<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soft-approaching pitter-patter paws.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer and nearer like a wolf he crept—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That moment had my swift revolver leapt—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But terror seized me, terror born of shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought flooding revelation. For he came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one who offers comradeship deserved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An open ally of the human race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sniffing at my prostrate form unnerved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He licked my face!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9"></a>{9}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SENTINEL" id="THE_SENTINEL"></a>THE SENTINEL<br /><br /> -<i>An Episode at the Evacuation of Gallipoli.</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">He</span> stood enveloped in the darkening mist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High on the cape that proudly kept her tryst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the narrow portal. All the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White shell-flung water-spouts had scattered spray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round Helles, warden of the Eastern seas;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still the boom of Asian batteries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rumbled around the cape. The sentinel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spied from his high cliff-towered citadel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaping flash of guns; but ere the roar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprang from its den on the dim Asian shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He blew a trumpet. Then, like burrowing moles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim forms below dashed headlong to their holes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The while that hurtling iron crossed the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fifteen seconds seemed eternity.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Below we lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crushed in a lighter; and the towering spray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lately blurred the clear star-laden sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Subsided in the vast tranquillity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10"></a>{10}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, chafing like taut-muscled charioteers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With every sense on tiptoe, we strained ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whispers, or the catch of indrawn breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still not the word to cut adrift the rope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That moored us to a wharf of floating piers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus alternately in fear and hope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swung the grim pendulum of life and death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then suddenly the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that loud warning rang the cape around.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We knew a gun had flashed, we knew the roar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That instant rumbled from the Asian shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we lie fettered to a raft!... The shell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Climbs its high trajectory ... Well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What of it? Fifteen seconds less or more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One—two—three—four—five—six—seven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Steady, man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s only Asiatic Ann) ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How slow the moments trickle—eight—nine—ten<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(They’re wonderful, these men).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Am I a coward? I can count no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold Thou my hands, O God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sea, upheaved in anger, rocked and swirled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Niagara seemed pelting from the stars<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11"></a>{11}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tumult that epitomised a world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roused by the battling impotence of wars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We heard a whispered order to escape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And casting loose, incredulously free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unscathed, exulting in the amber light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We left behind the immemorial cape.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But still above the indomitable sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his high cliff a sentry watched the night<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12"></a>{12}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MUDROS_AFTER_THE_EVACUATION" id="MUDROS_AFTER_THE_EVACUATION"></a>MUDROS AFTER THE EVACUATION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I laughed</span> to see the gulls that dipped to cling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the torn edge of surf and blowing spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where some gaunt battleship, a rolling king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still dreams of phantom battles in the bay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw a cloud, a full-blown cotton flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drift vaguely like a wandering butterfly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I laughed to think it bore no pregnant shower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blinding shrapnel scattered from the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life bore new hope. An army’s great release<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a closed cage walled in by fire and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the hushed pause and swooping plunge of shells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sped in a night. Here children in strange peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seek solitude to dull the tragedy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And needless horror of the Dardanelles.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mudros, <i>January, 1916</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_DEAD_TURK" id="THE_DEAD_TURK"></a>THE DEAD TURK</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Dead</span>, dead, and dumbly chill. He seemed to lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carved from the earth, in beauty without stain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Day turned to night, and I beheld again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A still Centurion with eyes ablaze:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Calvary re-echoed with his cry—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His cry of stark amaze.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15"></a>{15}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14"></a>{14}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br /><br /> -B. E. F.</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16"></a>{16}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17"></a>{17}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MISSING" id="MISSING"></a>MISSING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">They</span> told me nothing more: I bow my head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And squander life, between the quick and dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Irresolute. Yet I again could be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mistress of life, Queen of my destiny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I but knew—But now Remembrance plays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My being back through spring and summer days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We passed together; and I see him still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swinging to meet me down the tardy hill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That day the birds were new-inspired; a breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bestirred, as it in wonderment, the trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very clouds paused in their breathless race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadows played upon his open face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I remember how his laughing eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shone deep as pools in sea-blue ecstasies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meadow grasses rustled in the heat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I even heard the silence of his feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the slow hill—And now the dawning birth<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of beauty woke my senses to the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unveiled in radiance. The sweeping skies—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unseen unless reflected in his eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marshalled cloud companies with new delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just for us two the spangled dome of night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swung out the journeying moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">But still I hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burnt in my memory in beaten gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Days when the Spring stirred in each waking bush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blue-flecked jay or tawny-feathered thrush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drowsy Winter, startled unawares<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By arc-winged partridges or listening hares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fled guiltily. We heard the magpies call—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those dominoes at Nature’s carnival—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once a kingfisher, a lovely gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snatched from a rainbow, darted to a stream.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The snowdrops bowed their heads for us to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shy peeping buds of hooded chastity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stalwart cowslips raised sun-glinted eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To those who stooped to pluck their sanctities.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grass-nestled crocuses that scorn the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speared upward proudly and besought mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To step with care. Near by, we searched a glade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where violets brood in sweetness, half afraid<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19"></a>{19}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wake their petals. On we roamed, and soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flower that shares her secret with the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In pale gold fellowship peeped out, among<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A host of truculent daffodils that flung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their trumpets down the wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Each breathless day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broke to fulfil its promise, till the May<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had fledged her clustered blooms and swung her pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In bowing sweetness to the country side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty was born again. But now the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heavy Autumn patters to the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loud discordant booms of thunder roll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where that enchanted owner of my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies dead, or dying, or is living still:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last the fibres of my struggling will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Falter exhausted, and my cowering brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cries out in anguish like a child in pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If he is dead, then I abide to prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That brief fulfilment may be perfect love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should I grieve? His life inspired in me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A joy that shall outlive eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrought out, complete, unsnared by time and age<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My jewelled past my priceless heritage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall misery usurp my realm of years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave me drowning in self-pitying tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A derelict in my own whirlpool swirled—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me—whom Love crowned an empress of the world?<br /></span> -<span class="i10">But sometimes ’ere the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glimmers dawn-pearled to splash the feet of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere red, sun-gilded riot floods the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A whisper, swelling to a ringing cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tells me he’s living still. No lash could sting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like this persistent voice re-echoing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That mocks me as I stumble to my feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, shall I find him wandering in the street?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But every beckoning corner drags me past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strangers, new faces, each one like the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dull, cold, inscrutable. At times I caught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The look—the walk—the gesture that I sought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once with throbbing veins I found those eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shone like pools in sea-blue ecstasies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But looked beyond me—cold expressionless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vacant wonder at my helplessness,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Then, haunted by that stare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beaten, I knew the bedrock of despair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, Thou who poised the world, are all my tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too light, too pitiful to reach Thine ears?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21"></a>{21}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Locksmith of happiness, aloof, apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Am I too impotent to touch Thine heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me he’s dead or dying; say he stands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking for guidance the warm touch of hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doomed in an instant to eternal night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With only mind and memory for sight—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I could cheer him.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">But Lord quench this drought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unfathomable immensity of doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me he’s maimed or crippled, torn or blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Staring through eyes that show his wandering mind—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me he’s rotting in a place abhorred,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not this, not this, O Lord!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22"></a>{22}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TWO_TRENCH_POEMS" id="TWO_TRENCH_POEMS"></a>TWO TRENCH POEMS</h3> - -<h4>I<br /><br /> -THE STORM NIGHT</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Peal</span> after peal of splitting thunder rolls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Still roar the howling guns, and star-shells rise)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We perish, drowned in anger-blasted holes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give ear, O Lord! Our very manhood cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shell-fodder yea—but spare our human souls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From fury-shaken skies!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<h4>II<br /><br /> -RESURRECTION</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Five</span> million men are dead. How can the worth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all the world redeem such waste as this?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet the spring is clamorous of birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whispering in winter’s chrysalis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad tidings to each clod, each particle of earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So the year’s Easter triumphs. Shall we then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mourn for the dead unduly, and forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The resurrection in the hearts of men?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the poppy on the parapet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall blossom as before when Summer blows again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24"></a>{24}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GOMMECOURT" id="GOMMECOURT"></a>GOMMECOURT</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> wind, which heralded the blackening night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swirled in grey mists the sulphur-laden smoke.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From sleep, in sparkling instancy of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crouched batteries like grumbling tigers woke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stretched their iron symmetry; they hurled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skyward with roar and boom each pregnant shell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rumbling on tracks unseen. Such tyrants reign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sullen masters of a mangled world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grim-mothered in a womb of furnaced hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrought, forged, and hammered for the work of pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For six long days the common slayers played,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, fitfully, there boomed a heavier king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, couched in leaves and branches deftly laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hid in dappled colour of the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vaunted tornadoes. Far from that covered lair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like hidden snares the sinuous trenches lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mid fields where nodding poppies show their pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tall star-pointed streamers leap and flare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turn the night’s immensity to day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or rockets whistle in their upward ride.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> moment comes when thrice-embittered fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proclaims the prelude to the great attack.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ruined heaps, torn saps and tangled wire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And battered parapets loom gaunt and black:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flashes fade, the steady rattle dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A breathless hush brings forth a troubled day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men of sinew, knit to charge and stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rise up. But he of words and blinded eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Applauds the puppets of his ghastly play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With easy rhetoric and ready hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unlike those men who waited for the word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clean soldiers from a country of the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These were no thong-lashed band or goaded herd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tricked by the easy speech of tyranny.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the long week they fought encircling Fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While chaos clutched the throat and shuddered past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As phantoms haunt a child, and softly creep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round cots, so Death stood sentry at the Gate<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beckoned waiting terror, till at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He vanished at the hurrying touch of sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The beauty of the Earth seemed doubly sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the stored sacraments the Summer yields—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grass-sunken kine, and softly-hissing wheat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue-misted flax, and drowsy poppy fields.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with the vanished day Remembrance came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vivid with dreams, and sweet with magic song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft haunting echoes of a distant sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from another world. A belt of flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held the swift past, and made each moment long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the tense horror of mortality.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That easy lordling of the Universe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who plotted days that stain the path of time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him was happy memory a curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Man a scapegoat for a royal crime.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In lagging moments dearly sacrificed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men sweated blood before eternity:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In cheerful agony, with jest and mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shared the bitter solitude of Christ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a new Garden of Gethsemane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gethsemane walled in by crested earth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27"></a>{27}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They won the greater battle, when each soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay naked to the needless wreck of Mars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, splendid in perfection, faced the goal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the sweeping army of the stars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Necessity foretold that they must die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mangled and helpless, crippled, maimed and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cursed with all the sacrilege of war—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To force a nation to retract a lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To prove the unchartered honour of Mankind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To show how strong the silent passions are.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> daylight broke and brought the awaited cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And suddenly the land is live with men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In steady waves the infantry surge near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fire, a sweeping curtain, lifts again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A battle-plane with humming engines swerves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleams like a whirring dragon-fly, and dips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plunging cloud-shadowed in a breathless fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To climb undaunted in far-reaching curves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, swaying in the clouds like anchored ships,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swing grim balloons with eyes that fathom all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28"></a>{28}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But as the broad-winged battle-planes outsoared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shell-rocked skies, blue fields of cotton flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When bombs like bolts of thunder leapt and roared,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mighty moments faded into hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The curtain fire redoubled yet again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grey defence reversed their swift defeat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rallied strongly; whilst the attacking waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snared in a trench and severed from the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were driven fighting in a forced retreat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the land that gaped with shell-turned graves.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> troubled day sped on in weariness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Night drugged Carnage in a drunken swoon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jet-black, with spangling stars athwart her dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pale in the shafted amber of the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She moved triumphant as a young-eyed queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In silent dignity: her shadowed face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce veiled by gossamer clouds, that scurrying ran<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breathless in speed the high star-lanes between.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She passed unheeding ’neath the dome of space,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scorned the petty tragedy of Man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29"></a>{29}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And one looked upward, and in wonder saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The vast star-soldiered army of the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unheard, the needless blasphemy of War<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrank at that primal splendour sweeping by.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon’s gold-shadowed craters bathed the ground—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Pale queen, she hunted in her pathless rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lithe blackened raiders that bomb-laden creep)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now the earth-walled comfort wrapped him round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soon in lulled forgetfulness he lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where soldiers clasping arms like children sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep held him as a mother holds her child:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep the soft calm that levels hopes and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now stilled his brain and scarfed his eyelids wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sped the transient misery of tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the dawn’s sure prophets cleft the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With opal shafts, and streamers tinged with flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift merging riot of the turbaned East.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through rustling gesture loomed the advancing light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through fitful eddying winds, grey vanguards came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rising in billowy mountains silver-fleeced.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And with the dawn came action, and again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spiteful interplay of static war:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30"></a>{30}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dogged, with grim persistence Blood and Pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose venomous to greet the Morning Star.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But others watched that lonely sentinel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chase fleeting fellow-stars before the day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh men heard tides of thunder ebb and flow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Stumbling in sleep, scarce heeding shot or shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The men who fought at Gommecourt filed away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poppies nodded as they passed below.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They left the barren wilderness behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Gommecourt gnarled and dauntless, till they came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fields where trees unshattered took the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which tossed the crimson poppy heads to flame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But one stood musing at a waking thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That spurred his blood and dimmed his searching eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The primal thought that stirs the seed to birth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where the battling nations clashed and fought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The common grass still breathed of Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Love with silent lips was Lord of Earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">B. E. F. 1916.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31"></a>{31}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="A_VISION" id="A_VISION"></a>A VISION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Before</span> the dawn wind swept the troubled sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stirred the stricken trenches far and wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw the Lord of Holiness pass by,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Mary at His side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With Mary Michael passed, for I could hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His clashing arms, and see his spangled sword.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loudly I cried out, “Mother!” then in fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“O Mother of our Lord.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in her eyes all human sorrow burned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All tenderness lay naked when she smiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once she stooped to kiss, and once she turned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shuddered like a child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He moved through all the surge and clash of war,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The King of Kings since Brotherhood began;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in His still and shadowed face I saw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The agony of Man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32"></a>{32}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as I gazed, the ruined fields of France<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loomed to the dawn in shades of shifting grey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dumbly I stood to arms, as in a trance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I watched the climbing day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was this a dream? Yet Mary saw the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lit by a vision from the darkness hurled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little dream which made a baby cry—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dream which saved the world.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="REVELATION" id="REVELATION"></a>REVELATION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Can</span> death give you such dignity, and pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So beautiful it puts our grief to shame?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For now we stumble as we speak your name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet you were just a boy before you died.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We question blankly, pondering heavy-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can this be he we used to praise or blame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In careless moments, ere the trial came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the bravest hearts in anguish cried?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, humbled, we beheld our poor disguise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">False moods and manners clothed in empty speech<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which drowned the silence—till there came a day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That smote our vision to awakened eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For God bent down to bring you to our reach,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ere we touched you, you had gone away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34"></a>{34}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TELL_ME_STRANGER" id="TELL_ME_STRANGER"></a>TELL ME, STRANGER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Tell</span> me, Stranger, is it true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is magic happening,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are <i>all</i> the dappled fields of Kew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bowing to their Lord the Spring?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are the bluebells chaste and mute<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dancing in each dale and hollow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dew-sprinkled, with a glad salute<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To omnipotent Apollo?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell me, do the feathered creatures<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flutter as in days of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What are the “distinctive features”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the Swallow’s Flying Corps?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here there is no magic, Stranger.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save within our merry souls—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For some wanton god in anger<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Punches earth with gaping holes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet the stifled land is showing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here and there a touch of grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the marshalled clouds are blowing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the aerodromes of space.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hate is strong, but Love is stronger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the world shall wake to birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the touch of man no longer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stays the touch of God from Earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell me, Stranger, is it true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is magic happening,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are <i>all</i> the dappled fields of Kew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bowing to their Lord the Spring?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">B. E. F., <i>April, 1917</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="SPRING_IN_THE_TRENCHES" id="SPRING_IN_THE_TRENCHES"></a>SPRING IN THE TRENCHES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> racing clouds have borne her message down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blown a thrilling rumour, from the far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart-centres of each crowded port and town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And up the flowing arteries of War.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life, life, green tales of corn in sprouting blades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of swallows crowding with sea-sprinkled wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ash-buds amber-gummed round close-furled green.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High blossom mantling murmurous orchard glades<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In air a-tingle April-sweet and keen—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, we have heard of wondrous happenings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For now the magic carnivals begin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lilac broods in honeyed secrecy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dappled lawns are changed: a Harlequin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has brushed the tangled carpet silently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">We know how white narcissus fills the lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dancing shadows; how in open blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A chestnut builds her clustered pyramids,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And down below anemones awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long-hushed the violets open wide their lids<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the dreamed-of fantasy comes true.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glad tidings thrill the re-awakened earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By daffodils and blue-bells heralded;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring with her van imperial comes forth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To herald Summer proudly canopied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the bowing leaves. Persistent Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bestirs the seed enshrined in Winter’s store;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And even round the parapet a breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of far-flung prophecy is clamouring:<br /></span> -<span class="ig">“Behold new life within the tomb of death<br /></span> -<span class="ig">“Importunate and vivid as before.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="ON_THE_ROAD" id="ON_THE_ROAD"></a>ON THE ROAD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">We</span> halted, with the urgent Spring behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our straining teams, where all the land was black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And huddled woods lay beaten, starkly blind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their mangled branches loomed athwart the track<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grotesque and terrible. Yet near the way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A river, scatheless as the open sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowed like a breathing hope that cannot die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In desolation. Now, at setting day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moored water lilies, pale as argent sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cling to the twilight fading silently.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such is the tale of memory, ere night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had deepened, and our weary convoy slept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the way. Slow-rising points of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twinkled amid the spangled netting swept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the ebon desert; and a gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierced the cloud-woven pillows of the moon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39"></a>{39}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now slumber freed me from the iron cage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bound the snarling war; and, in a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The panorama of a dawning age<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unrolled, a world slow-waking from a swoon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before my gaze a teeming city loomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gay with the bustling clamour of the street—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very town an easy word had doomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cast in ashes at the trampling feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mortal gods. Street, corner, square and place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemed woken from a long and squalid trance—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw a nation growing like a flower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A nation true and loyal to a race<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That forged an army of clean-soldiered power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrought by the common chivalry of France.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here was no arrogance of martial pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fireside boast that sows the fatal seed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For happiness had come from those who died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stark of delusion and the deadly creed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of false romance. I saw a world reborn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very battlefield was robed again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In lines of chequered land, and bordered round<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stretching roads and rills. The poppied corn<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held rubies set in gold, and far beyond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay a surf-ravelled sea and swarded plain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I marvelled, till oblivion shadowed all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blurred in the dawning light of every day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was so true, I scarcely heard the call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feed and water and to move away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We stretched our limbs, and packed each heavy load;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved on, and left the weary night behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through torn and withered trees that stared aghast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, through the veil that shrouded all the road<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw new radiance in the land we passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard a sudden murmur in the wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">B. E. F., 1917.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41"></a>{41}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="KEATS_BEFORE_ACTION" id="KEATS_BEFORE_ACTION"></a>KEATS, BEFORE ACTION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A little</span> moment more—O, let me hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(The thunder rolls above, and star-shells fall)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those melodies unheard re-echo clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the shuddering moment closes all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They come—they come—they answer to my call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Grecian throng of graven ecstasies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hyperion aglow in blazing skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Cortez with the wonder in his eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In battle-wreaths of smoke they rise, and fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond—beyond recall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now all is silent, still, and magic-keen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Yet thunder rolls above and star-shells fall)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slowly pacing, rides a faery queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild eyed and singing to a knight in thrall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough—enough—let lightning whip me bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave me naked in the howling air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My body broken here, and here, and here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty is truth, truth beauty—that is all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very all in all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42"></a>{42}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SOMME" id="THE_SOMME"></a>THE SOMME</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>From Amiens to Abbeville</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>My swollen waters race,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And silver-veined by many a rill</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Green hamlets thrive apace.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>From Amiens to Abbeville</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>I labour at the listless mill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And tempt the nodding daffodil</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>To blur my open face.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>But south of Amiens I flow</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Past dumb Peronne and Brie,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The peopled land I used to know</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Now all belongs to me.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Yet phantom armies come and go,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>And shadows hurry to and fro;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Again my seething battles grow</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>In murdered Picardy.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behold the mother of a soil forlorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I suckled towns, and fed the forest land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold my shattered villages and mourn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should I understand?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why are those huts o’erpatched like dappled kine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What are those weary men in blue and brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And humming craft that search my sinuous line;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should my name re-echo with renown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past every phantom town?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still my lily-breasted waters shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still I chant my shadowy ripples down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">From peace through war my waters flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To peace again at sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The peopled land I used to know<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now all belongs to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though battling armies come and go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I toil and spin, I reap and sow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And poppy-mantled meadows blow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In murdered Picardy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My eddies bear the clinging scent of lime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sweeten clouds of plume-tossed meadowsweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My meadow grasses nestle with the thyme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flowering rushes tower in the heat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low-brushing swifts and swallows splashed with white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er flash my laden mirrors slow and deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bear swift-merging canopies of sleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44"></a>{44}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the growing light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has chased marauding owls, and butterflies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born of blue-woven skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flutter away like hare-bells spurred to flight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But who are these? The powdered butterfly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outshines that air leviathan that swings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rigid curves adown the barren sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With cloudy satellites about her wings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I have seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark horsemen ride with spears of tapered steel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bellowing guns beneath the far balloons.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once a ponderous slug bedecked in green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crept, in the waning moon’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still-darkening gloom, and at her giant heel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White-gleaming, ran a train of hooded cars....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I triumph, triumph, search my sinuous line<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amid the snarling impotence of wars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn where you will. Look, there a signboard shows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lair of guns; already round the sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White trumpeting convolvuli entwine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their clinging arms, across the placard blows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A quiet-breathing rose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45"></a>{45}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still my lily-breasted waters shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loud my chanting grows:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">From peace through war my waters flow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To peace again at sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The peopled land I used to know<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now all belongs to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though battling armies come and go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I toil and spin, I reap and sow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And poppy-mantled meadows blow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In murdered Picardy.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46"></a>{46}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SOMME_FLOWER_TALK" id="SOMME_FLOWER_TALK"></a>SOMME FLOWER TALK</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Said</span> the Cornflower to the Pimpernel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“O sudden scarlet eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You never bloomed till ploughing shell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laid bare earth’s sanctities!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then upward cried the Pimpernel:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Blue head in deeper blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis strange this former waste of Hell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is Paradise anew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“But who is Lord of Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Commandant; and who<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Commands sky-faring butterflies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All camouflaged in blue?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“Are dandelion parachutes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His messages, and do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those armoured beetles clamber roots<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With news from Army Q?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47"></a>{47}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“Above each water-lily ship<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The feathered red caps pipe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because the pear has earned a pip,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tiger-moth a stripe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“The gorse artillery has eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We never knew before.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lady bees can organise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Honey Service Corps.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“Field-marshals rule the war behind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The guns, but Summer shields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in the clash of human kind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her marshal of the fields.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="TO_THE_UTTERMOST_FARTHING" id="TO_THE_UTTERMOST_FARTHING"></a>TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“He too! He too!” The veteran paused, the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a light paper fluttering to the ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rustled the twilight peace. “He—too—is—dead—”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His wife, scarce faltering from the words she read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stared at the glowing sun, the while her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shone mistily in nameless agonies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Five sons, and four were dead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clock ticked desolation to their ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silence gripped the moments as they passed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too terrible, too passionless for tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stronger than he, she curbed herself and smiled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And held him weeping like a weary child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the first immensity of pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet once again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She conjured scenes beyond the darkened cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That blurred the soul’s horizon, as aloud<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49"></a>{49}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She spoke his name, and whispered little things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More pregnant than the utterance of kings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night she moved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spurred by devotion for the man she loved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a pause for sorrow, or a breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To murmur at the closing walls of death;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love-steeled and queenly every step she trod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She climbed unfaltering, serenely browed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until she touched the very feet of God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Undaunted and unbowed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there in mystic awe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow-turning wheels of evolution spun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poised and pulsing universe. She saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All life and death synonymous, and birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dawn of human wonderment begun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Birth of all birth) in other realms afar.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below, ice pivoted revolved the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A traveller’s joy it seemed, a mile-stone star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half-glowing, bathed in sun....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dawn they met and found each other’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Asked the same questions, sought the same replies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their last and youngest fought where harsh commands<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50"></a>{50}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still goaded forward lashed and driven bands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Vaux and Thiaumont twin sentinels<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loomed stalwartly. And still a howl of shells<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shattered the Verdun battlements in vain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still domineered that keen death-tutored brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behind an army deaf to angry scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boast forgotten and the mask outworn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At length she spoke: “Go quickly now,” she said,<br /></span> -<span class="ig">“Quick, the next hurrying hour may see him dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Find the Great Overlord and tell him all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick, for our boy may pass beyond recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meanwhile. He shall know happiness to come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He, the last scion of our stricken home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall blossom like a flower in early Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I say it, I who bore him. Time shall bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old primeval happiness to birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If there be any justice upon earth.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She ceased; it seemed her voice re-echoed still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As strung with hope he hurried on until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He reached the palace and besought for grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see his royal master face to face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night in sudden joy he urged away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across Lorraine, for in his wallet lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51"></a>{51}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">An order blazoned with the royal seals.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hour after hour the car’s revolving wheels<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rushed dizzily towards the high command<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That held his son in fee. Around, the land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awoke in changeless Spring. Four steady hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They travelled, till the bloom of passing flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought tidings of the dawn. Then to his ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rumbled a distant thunder, sudden fears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Urged onward faster. Now the country showed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First signs of war-flung tentacles, the road<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay pitted here and there, a wounded tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No longer framed its lordly symmetry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soon the land whereon all life was stilled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Became as Man had willed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last his journey ended. Long delayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sought his goal, now pressing on, now stayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until outside the place of high command<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The royal warrant burning in his hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He knocked—was bidden enter—tense and mute<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He faced the marshal with a grave salute<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And showed the royal word.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crowded room was silent, no man stirred—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pause as long as death, then, dragged and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice—“Your son was killed an hour ago.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52"></a>{52}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A clock importunately unconcerned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repeated tick—tick—tick. His eyes discerned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pen vague-sprawling, madly spiderwise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a man glanced—Yet all the room had eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a man spoke—Yet clamorous voices cried:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stumbling, he walked outside.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_THE_MESS" id="IN_THE_MESS"></a>IN THE MESS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I sat</span> alone although the mess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was full, when—quick as tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song of naked happiness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came singing in my ears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I summoned strength to kill a cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mad desire to weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, glancing round me guiltily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found everyone asleep!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54"></a>{54}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_TRENCH_INCIDENT" id="A_TRENCH_INCIDENT"></a>A TRENCH INCIDENT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">We</span> waited, as the thundering curtain swept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our sector, and torn shards of iron fell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dust from the parapet in showers leapt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swirled up by bursting shell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We waited, like a storm-bespattered ship<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That flutters sail to free her grounded keel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tingling moments tightened every grip<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On rifles lanced with steel.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We knew the man who led us. All could hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His ringing voice re-echo loud and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born of that higher bravery when fear.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is battled into song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then sudden fury lulled and far behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like angered beasts our batteries replied—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And suddenly he stumbled, dazed and blind.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He lay, but ere he died<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He struggled for a while, then dimly smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in the comradeship of happy things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before he entered like a wondering child<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heritage of kings.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55"></a>{55}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="REALITY" id="REALITY"></a>REALITY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Below</span> my room the noise and measured beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of marching men re-echoed loud and clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now bobbing cavalry swung down the street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now mules and rumbling batteries drew near.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all is dim—The rolling wagon-stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Amiens between the aspen trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stables, billets, men and horses, seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead mummers of forgotten fantasies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only my dreams are still aglow, a throng<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of scenes that crowded through a waiting mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A myriad scenes: For I have swept along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To foam ashriek with gulls, and rowed behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown oarsmen swinging to an ocean song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where stately galleons bowed before the wind.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56"></a>{56}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WE_POETS_OF_THE_PROUD_OLD_LINEAGE" id="WE_POETS_OF_THE_PROUD_OLD_LINEAGE"></a>“WE POETS OF THE PROUD OLD LINEAGE”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Apart</span> we labour, and alone we climb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The barren heights; for we the singing throng<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lives were hallowed by impassioned song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must die or prove unworthy of our rhyme.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man after man—we know the price of wars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who watched the mask of Night whilst others slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spread our laughter far and wide, but kept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our tears and terror privy to the stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">0 magic gift omnipotent, to sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And conjure Heaven from surrounding Hell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our lips and eyes are touched (for we have seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Celestial weavers at the loom of Spring).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But O the iron bitterness and keen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of voices ever clamouring farewell!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57"></a>{57}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br /><br /> -MISCELLANEOUS POEMS</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Would</span> I could commandeer the bees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hum you droning symphonies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love the climbing thoughts that rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the sheer heaven of your eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide laughter-dromes of wondering blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yes, yes, I do!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when I sing of bubbling seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The zephyr-clapping hands of trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Applauding in tumultuous skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or window-winged dragonflies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or anything that’s good and true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sing of you—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yes, yes, I do!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60"></a>{60}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SHADOW" id="THE_SHADOW"></a>THE SHADOW</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I stood</span> one night where rivers pause to meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mingle in the traffic-rumbling sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The surge and clamour of a London street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tides alternate, rolled, impassively.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before my feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran shouting boys, and through the pallid glare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loomed gaunt leviathans that swayed and roared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past glittering shops, and stations which outpoured<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Load after weary load; and everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strange sounds, a snatch of laughter, shout or word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleek-coated motor-cars that softly purred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round corners sounding with the rustling beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hurried swarms of feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I seemed alone, and dumb-amazed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before a towering building, wherein blazed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One staring patch of light, one amber square<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shone enshrouded by the dome of night<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61"></a>{61}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">High in the naked air. And still I gazed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until a shadow passed across the blind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shadow-woman pacing time away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside a bed, wherein a poet lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dying, dying. One whose mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(A womb of beauty whereof love was lord)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had fashioned symphonies of thought and word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Impassionately sweet. And suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She paused—I saw the shadow of her hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretch out and shudder back. I saw her stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All sorrow-bound in graven dignity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She bowed her head, her shoulders taut with pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her figure burdened with the weight of tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then all grew dark. And in my waking ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The traffic surged again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62"></a>{62}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="EVERYCHILD" id="EVERYCHILD"></a>EVERYCHILD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">We</span> take you through Pacific seas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To islands strange and new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where howling monkeys scale the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alive with humming-birds and bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shiny seals and porpoises<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Snort in the rolling blue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then quicker than a shaft of light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We shear the arctic foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lounging bears of polar white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roar loudly through the dancing night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drive the killer-whales to flight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the floor at home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O hear the chant of Eastern song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath Arabian stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where camels slowly stalk along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gleaming Arabs, tall and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buy gold and merchandise among<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The riot of bazaars!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63"></a>{63}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The glow-worms crawl excitedly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And trim their lamps o’ night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For often, ere the moon is high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bat-harnessed walnut-shells flit by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bear them to the waiting sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set the stars alight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The nodding poplars understand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And birds and beasts and flowers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we shall wander hand in hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With better things than Peter Panned—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O what is footlight fairyland<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside this world of ours?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What matter if the clouds are grey<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or winter-keen and wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you and I have found a way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To turn November into May;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Everyjoy is Everyday<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Everyman a child.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64"></a>{64}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHILD_OF_THE_FLOWING_TIDE" id="CHILD_OF_THE_FLOWING_TIDE"></a>CHILD OF THE FLOWING TIDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Away</span> to the call of the racing sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Child of the flowing tide)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hundred chargers of ivory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And two of them saddled for you and for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are pawing and stamping the surf to be free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the wild sea-horses ride.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deep water shall roar as we race from the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the back of the flowing tide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O hurry, the moon is away in the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Child of the flowing tide)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With your heels well down, and your heart set high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’re saddled and bridled, and so am I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So gather your reins, for the foam will fly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the wild sea-horses ride.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grip tight with your knees as you gallop the seas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the back of the flowing tide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65"></a>{65}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the wide lagoon I’ll meet you to-night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Child of the flowing tide)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the moon swings high and the stars are alight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the roaring sea-chargers are ready to fight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their manes are all foam and their coats are all white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the wild sea-horses ride.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deep waters shall roar as we race from the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the back of the flowing tide.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="EIGHT_SONNETS" id="EIGHT_SONNETS"></a>EIGHT SONNETS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I Tremble</span> at the outset, for I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How rhythm halts and rhyme rings falsely true.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet courage, your disciple, bids me show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That speech may offer sacrifice to you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vain boast! For if success in splendour came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poised faultlessly in lines of perfect stress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must fall short of it in very shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unworthy of my sonnet’s worthiness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But should I fail, and feel the words I sought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Elusive, or bedecked with frail disguise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tattered sentiment, that risk I dare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not hazard in the winding maze of thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest I should stir the wonder in your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wind a little tangle in your hair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67"></a>{67}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">So</span> let me fail: what matter if the wise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And worldly whisper, who so poor as they?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For everywhere alike the common way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has now become an earthly paradise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where you walk the very pavement cries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blue-bells, April-chimed, and fawns at play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And London seems a sylvan holiday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of flower-hunting bees and butterflies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So let me fail, for where I could succeed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How mean the quest, a climber gazing down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the low vantage of some petty hill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But chance success would be the gambler’s thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who plays with God for worlds, and wins indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole of Paradise for half-a-crown!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68"></a>{68}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I Have</span> no room for jealous gods, and find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No ring of joy or laughter in the Creed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor shall my great possession be resigned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fear or favour of my spirit’s need.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For joy is mine, and mine the teeming years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unfettered in a world impassionate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not mine a sorrowed Calvary of tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where love was vassal to the lords of hate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let others bow before a God unknown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enshrined in words they dimly understand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let every man make Paradise his own—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Goddess breathes and leads me by the hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O hush! I dare not speak of it alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis all too wonderful and strangely planned!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69"></a>{69}</span></p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Day</span> after day my growing pinions beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Impatiently. Yet, in a place unclean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sought the dwarfed, the petty and obscene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And aped the clownish mummers of the street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till suddenly the world grew strangely sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All eager at a touch, and thrilling-keen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With half-forgotten hands I strove unseen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mould a little planet at your feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You spoke and there was light, and slowly grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My teeming world of verse, a brotherhood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of music, thought, and wonder, born anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alive, aglow, in every varied mood.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the waking truth is bursting through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feel you bend to see that all is good.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70"></a>{70}</span></p> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> I had seen what hourly happiness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this my world your being could ordain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How then should I have trysted with distress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And misery the cringing friend of pain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I had seen beyond the looming years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your shadow, grief had haunted me in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what are cataracts of human tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the boundless laughter of the main?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O barren days bygone! Now every field<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wakes clamorous with dawning life conceived,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So has the magic universe revealed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whole happiness to one who half believed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whole happiness, and in my heart concealed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide wonder at the sacrament received.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71"></a>{71}</span></p> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">“Great men and happy years,” you say from these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your knowledge came, and your diviner powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More thrilling than the honey-womb of flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the bright star-foam of the Pleiades.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, did you learn the droning lore of bees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From some be-medalled soldier? Did you meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Madonna-hearted statesmen in the street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bishops, babbling of the opal seas?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O poor deceiver, conscript joys belong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To you as homage. For the happy years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear fruit to-day, and blossom like the flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That breathe of summertime in after hours.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you were loyal to a creed of Song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever stooped to misery and tears.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72"></a>{72}</span></p> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Would</span> I could throw my stuttering self away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shrine the soul wherein all wonders beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would I were you, for one brief holiday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole shy universe before my feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O happiness, to know joy’s secret mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hold adoring ministers in fee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Narcissus-like to bless the Serpentine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with the stars outdance Terpsichore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For once a poet sang of happiness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, like running flame, glad voices say—<br /></span> -<span class="ig">“Joy is the sheer antithesis of wrong.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough,—and I, no longer comradeless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold exultant on the world’s highway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your being, and the proof of Pippa’s song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73"></a>{73}</span></p> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> you are old and dancing shadows play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the sky-blown laughter in your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I, unworthy of your new disguise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget the sacrament and go away?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I adore, like sorrowed men to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The child who gurgled in first ecstasies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At oxen (Mary said) that mooed surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And snuffed with wondering muzzles in the hay?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O leave the past—the living world is mine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm, passionate, and breathing. Even so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall Life in after years make Earth divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fire shall burn as long as embers glow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he who babbled to the wondering kine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is dead, long dead, two thousand years ago.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74"></a>{74}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="KEATS" id="KEATS"></a>KEATS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Touch</span> me, O Lord, and let my sonnet ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With echoes. Now his words of crowned belief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In raging hours of pain and suffering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too high for praise, too terrible for grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ring loud and clear. Last night his chariot rolled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I beheld him urge amid the stars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloud-fashioned steeds of snow moon-aureoled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Himself a charioteer equipped for wars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Faster and faster—men of Blood and Pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Opposed in vast battalions, but he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rolled back their army to the dark again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And triumphed while he sang exultingly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As now he sings. Boy of the glowing brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Keats your name is Paradise to me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75"></a>{75}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MEETING_HER_IN_THE_STREET" id="MEETING_HER_IN_THE_STREET"></a>MEETING HER IN THE STREET</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">She</span>’s coming down the road! You know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those laughter-woken eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I beckon at the stars—But O<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she should recognise:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nearer and nearer yet she trod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till (mad blood-dancing joy)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down from the planet-fields of God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She nodded, “Hullo, Boy.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76"></a>{76}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="HER_HOMAGE" id="HER_HOMAGE"></a>HER HOMAGE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Silence</span> outlives the argument of kings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And best is dumb applause. Behold, she moves:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No soft-winged owlets blink, no cricket sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before she greets the murmuring world she loves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now twirling parachutes of sycamore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hang waiting, and the rippled trout-rings die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The murmur round a jasmine honey store<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is still—a linnet falters suddenly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From out the reeds an awe-struck otter peers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As eerie quiet speeds from bush to bush:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High Summer stands on tip-toe as She nears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods, and magic numbs the missel-thrush:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above still grasses prick the listening ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of rabbits, and a squirrel whispers “Hush!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77"></a>{77}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="REACTION" id="REACTION"></a>REACTION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Afraid</span>, afraid, I sought the kindly night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fear that mocking fools should scrutinise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauty I discovered in men’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mock me as a dreaming anchorite.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For long in fear I sinned against the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shrouded Poetry with vain disguise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before I sang, unconscious as the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Self-chanting songs to me supreme delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now, O littlest of all little minds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High-browed, alone, aloof, you little know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How like you are to Brown, who lifts the blinds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his suburban villa, just to show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he alone is up, but always finds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The neighbourhood awoke an hour ago!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="APRIL" id="APRIL"></a>APRIL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">How</span> much are you achieving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O April day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By orchard looms a-weaving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All apple-gay?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tie on your cherry blossom, clothe your squills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Madonna-blue, and give your daffodils<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their collars of pale straw, and come away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your rain-awoken hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall welcome May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is behind your weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O April tears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your lilac plumes are sweeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your silken spears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of chestnut bristle in the changing sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst herded clouds foregather, ’neath the high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Storm-loud arena’s thundering charioteers:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And beckoned silently<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The swallow nears.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79"></a>{79}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MAY-JUNE" id="MAY-JUNE"></a>MAY-JUNE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Now</span> is the swaddling husk of Winter shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waking Summer, robed in windy showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is heralded from silvered aspen towers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And orchards in high blossom garlanded.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now sunlight, in the plumed laburnum flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And purple lilac, trembles overhead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bees a-drone in field and flower bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make clamorous the trade of teeming hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now the sweet-pea, all honey-laden, shows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full-swollen sails, her mooring ropes of green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Encircle twigs. And soon the primrose queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lights her pale lamps of Evening ’mid the glows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of brazen flower-suns, that burn between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The yawning honeysuckle and the rose.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80"></a>{80}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_STROLLING_SINGER" id="THE_STROLLING_SINGER"></a>THE STROLLING SINGER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sun</span>-bathed in Summer peace the village lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That afternoon. Along the happy street<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Milk-fragrant kine, and wagons high with hay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came lumbering. The fields were loud with bees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drowsy with the wind-stirred meadowsweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From bowing trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fell chatter, and above the garden wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide sunflowers beamed at spearing hollyhocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dared the wind, and scorned the clustered stocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bore their laddered blooms high over all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here amid Summer murmur and delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The strolling singer came. The people heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stray snatches of a song—a laugh—a word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gossiping in groups of two or three<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood all amazed. For no one came in sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the wind was laden drowsily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mellow sounds that slowly growing strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last became a song:—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81"></a>{81}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Bend down, the marsh and meadow holds<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Pale yellow pimpernels,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sun-begotten marigolds,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thyme, orchis, asphodels,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And borage born of ocean blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Plumed armoured thistles, fever-few,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sea-campion globed, and clinging dew<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In giant flower-bells.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Bend down—an ebon beetle prowls,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And there a swinging bee<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Drinks honey from the laden cowls<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That clothe the foxglove tree.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And giant peacock butterflies<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Light meadowsweet with sudden eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And through the tangled grasses rise<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Lucerne and timothy.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Louder and louder grew the voice, until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A figure specked the heaven-touching hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nearer, nearer, still ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The villagers in mingled fear and awe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood round on tiptoe waiting. Soon they saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little sylvan man with beckoning eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And limbs of lithe expression. Woven flowers<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82"></a>{82}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And grasses, splashed with rainbow-tinted showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And jewelled with alluring butterflies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enwrapped him. Russet face, clear-featured, gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As pebble-rumpled streams, and tousled hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sun-dyed and naked. His limbs were bronzed and bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sprang, it seemed, from the wild interplay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of flower-woven garb. Around his waist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twined traveller’s-joy and honeysuckle, sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And freshly dewed, and on his lissom feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were pointed shoes of silver beech rush-laced.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The village gazed in silence, till a child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Began:—“Who are you, funny man?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your face seems to be telling truth, your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are just the colour of blue butterflies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O tell us who you are?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stranger smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turned his face that bore the wistful, far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strange wonder-look of one whose dreams come true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who delves in darkened quarries of his brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unhoped-for gold, and changes old to new<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Spring rejuvenates the earth again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of one who plays Narcissus in Life’s pool<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83"></a>{83}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sees an image strangely beautiful ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then suddenly they heard him cry:—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Come buy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I own the laughing earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all my chanted words are deeds;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I follow where my fancy leads,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sell my songs for mirth.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What will you buy?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Speak hurriedly, and choose your song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The poplar’s shadow creeps along,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Search hurriedly the Earth and Sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What will you buy?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Meanwhile a crowd had gathered, in a ring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The butcher, grocer, postman, parson, clerk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the village, open-mouthed and stark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood mutely marvelling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And children clamoured round him with large eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pelted him for songs, like countless hail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With pleadings, shouts and cries:—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84"></a>{84}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Sing us a song of Paradise,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of railway engines, fawns,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of stolen queens in guarded towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of sprites and leprechauns”—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O HUSH! All were dumb—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Boy in blue smock, sucking your thumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With hair like a tangled chrysanthemum,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What would you like me to sing, Ocean-eyed?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Loud the boy’s answer rang,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“<i>I</i> want a song of flowers!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this is the song he sang:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Sisters of mercy are Cyclamen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Snowdrops and Arums too,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But Primulus, Violets, Stocks, Mignonette,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Crocus aflame, and the Never Forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are chaster than chastity too.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now sulphur Laburnum and Lilac, adieu,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Good-bye April children to you!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For who<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will climb up the flowers of my Hollyhock towers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With butterfly steeple-jacks blue?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85"></a>{85}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But, climber, beware!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of Love-in-a-mist in a tangle of hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of thistly Teazles, and winged Sweet-Peas<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With tentacle tendrils that strangle with ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of butterfly Orchis a-clamour for bees.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For Dragon may Snap you, and Sundew may trap you,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before you have started, before you have parted<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The grass at the foot of my Hollyhock trees.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But think of the view<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the whole garden side!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">We’ll charter a dragon-fly homeward, and ride<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Down to our Rosemary, Marjoram, Rue,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Lavender, London Pride.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All watched him, held, bewitched, and with him clung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the green tops of slowly swaying towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where bees had scattered pollen-dust, that hung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the teeming nectaries of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all again were young.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now the poplars cast their phantom bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In latticed shadows; now a scarf unfurled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like parrot-tulip petals hued and torn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the West was flung.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86"></a>{86}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now, before the twilight bares the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere jewelled night is born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All silently the Singer left the world.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the hill he passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But singing all the while; first loud and strong.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then fainter, till at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came only jumbled echoes of a song:—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Bend down—the marsh and meadow holds<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Pale yellow Pimpernels,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sun-begotten Marigolds<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thyme, Orchis, Asphodels” ...<br /></span> -<span class="i5">(Fainter and fainter it grew<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gentle as ebbing tide)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Butterfly steeple-jacks blue” ...<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(Fainter it grew<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And died)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Echoing “Rosemary, Marjoram, Rue,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lavender, London Pride”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87"></a>{87}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="THE_FRENCH_MOTHER_TO_HER_UNBORN_CHILD" id="THE_FRENCH_MOTHER_TO_HER_UNBORN_CHILD"></a>THE FRENCH MOTHER TO HER UNBORN CHILD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Beat</span> quietly, hid heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Build, little limbs, and brain divinely wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grow, grow in peace. Around, the pangs of war<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are powerless to cripple thee or mar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sure perfection. But, if Death besought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thee, our tethered souls could never part:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beat quietly, hid heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Form, primal thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close-furled and sheltered as the budding Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unknown, unknowing, yet divinely planned.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But stay awhile, for sounds of battle ring.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stir, little hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unrealized—I count the dragging hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yearn to see it clutch at yonder flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see thy lucent feet and dimpled frame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gaze at heav’n-snatched eyes and know thy name,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88"></a>{88}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But stay awhile.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thou art best alone away from Man:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wait longer, tears unshed and lurking smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of joy enshrined where every joy began.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time hurries as the moments thump along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Hark, little ears, my heart is beating strong)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life is aglow, alive, a perfect song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the land is ugly, but apart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fashion thee in thought. Now hush, for sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is here. Close, eyes unopened, voice unheard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be still. Grow on in beauty till day creep ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark to my whispered word—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beat quietly, hid heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Geoffrey Dearmer - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 53818-h.htm or 53818-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/8/1/53818/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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