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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..e5041b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54719 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54719) diff --git a/old/54719-8.txt b/old/54719-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5f57c2e..0000000 --- a/old/54719-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4315 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Happy Ending, by Louise Imogen Guiney - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Happy Ending - The Collected Lyrics of Louise Imogen Guiney - -Author: Louise Imogen Guiney - -Release Date: May 14, 2017 [EBook #54719] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY ENDING *** - - - - -Produced by Emmy, Linda Cantoni, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive). This project is dedicated with love to -Emmy's memory. - - - - - - - - - -HAPPY ENDING - -[Illustration: - - _G.F. Watts, pinx._ - _Hollyer, Photo._] - - _Rower maul'd in the Sea, ah, Rower - Limp as Grasses behind the Mower. - Pity'd most that thy Woes deny thee - Sight of the Spirit Steersman by thee!_ - - _Tho' more near than a hinted Haven - Lie the Port that is coral-paven, - All is well: the Unseen Befriending - Makes of either the Happy Ending._ - - - - -HAPPY ENDING - - - _The Collected Lyrics of_ - LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY - - -[Illustration: TOUT BIEN OU RIEN] - - - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - BOSTON AND NEW YORK: 1909 - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY - -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - -_Published December 1909_ - - - - -TO - -ANNE WHITNEY - - - - -PREFACE - - -THIS volume has been garnered from the author's earlier -books. Two poems have been chosen from "The White Sail" (1887); -nine Oxford Sonnets from a privately printed booklet (1895), since -added to, and much altered; and many lyrics, under a revised form, -from "A Roadside Harp" (1893), and "The Martyrs' Idyl" (1899), plus -some twenty newer titles transferred, with grateful acknowledgments, -from _McClure's Magazine_, _The Atlantic_, _Harper's_, _Scribner's_, -and _The Century_. The principle of exclusion goes far enough to -cover all poems in narrative form, or of any appreciable length, or -translated; also, any which seemed out of keeping with the character -of the present collection. Such as that is, it comprises the less -faulty half of all the author's published verse. - -L.I.G. - -BOSTON, October 21, 1909. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - _The Kings_ 3 - - _The Squall_ 5 - - _Open, Time_ 9 - - _The Knight Errant_ (_Donatello's Saint George_) 11 - - _To a Dog's Memory_ 13 - - _Memorial Day_ 15 - - _Romans in Dorset: A.D. MDCCCXCV_ 16 - - _Horologion_ 19 - - _His Angel to his Mother_ 21 - - _Autumn Magic_ 23 - - _Five Carols for Christmastide_: - - _I. The Ox he Openeth wide the Doore_ 25 - - _II. Vines Branching Stilly_ 26 - - _III. Three without Slumber Ride from Afar_ 27 - - _IV. Was a Soule from Farre Away_ 28 - - _V. The Ox and the Ass_ 29 - - _On Leaving Winchester_ 32 - - _Cobwebs_ 34 - - _Astræa_ 35 - - _The Yew-Tree_ 36 - - _Ten Colloquies_: - - _I. The Search_ 38 - - _II. Fact and the Mystic_ 39 - - _III. The Poet's Chart_ 40 - - _IV. Of the Golden Age_ 41 - - _V. On Time's Threshold_ 42 - - _VI. Wood-Pigeons_ 42 - [Transcriber's Note: original erroneously has "Wood-Doves"] - - _VII. Predicaments_ 43 - - _VIII. The Co-Eternal_ 44 - - _IX. Stern Aphrodite_ 44 - - _X. The Jubilee_ 45 - - _Winter Boughs_ 46 - - _W.H.: A.D. MDCCLXXVIII-MDCCCXXX_ 47 - - _The Vigil-at-Arms_ 48 - - _A Friend's Song for Simoisius_ 49 - - _To an Ideal_ 51 - - _In a Ruin, after a Thunder-Storm_ 53 - - _Beati Mortui_ 54 - - _Two Irish Peasant Songs_: - - _I. In Leinster_ 57 - - _II. In Ulster_ 58 - - _The Japanese Anemone_ 61 - - _Orisons_ 63 - - _The Inner Fate: A Chorus_ 64 - - _The Acknowledgment_ 66 - - _By the Trundle-Bed_ 67 - - _Arboricide_ 68 - - _The Cherry Bough_ 70 - - _The Wild Ride_ 73 - - _Bedesfolk_ 75 - - _In a City Street_ 77 - - _Florentin: A.D. MDCCCXC_ 79 - - _A Song of the Lilac_ 80 - - _Monochrome_ 81 - - _Saint Francis Endeth his Sermon_ 82 - - _An Estray_ 83 - - _Friendship Broken_ 85 - - _A Talisman_ 87 - - _Heathenesse_ 88 - - _For Izaak Walton_ 89 - - _Fifteen Epitaphs_ 91 - - _Deo Optimo Maximo_ 98 - - _Charista Musing_ 99 - - _The Still of the Year_ 100 - - _A Footnote to a Famous Lyric_ 102 - - _T.W.P.: A.D. MDCCCXIX-MDCCCXCII_ 104 - - _Summum Bonum_ 105 - - _When on the Marge of Evening_ 106 - - _Hylas_ 107 - - _Nocturne_ 109 - - _To Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey_ 110 - - _Planting the Poplar_ 111 - - _To One Who would not Spare Himself_ 113 - - _Winter Peace_ 114 - - _Sleep_ 116 - - _Writ in my Lord Clarendon's History of the Rebellion_ 117 - - _In a February Garden_ (_Somerset, England_) 118 - - _A Valediction._ (_R.L.S.: A.D. MDCCCXCIV_) 120 - - _A Footpath Morality_ 121 - - _The Light of the House_ 123 - - _An Outdoor Litany_ 125 - - _Of Joan's Youth_ 127 - - _In a Brecon Valley_ 128 - - _A Song of Far Travel_ 130 - - _Spring_ 131 - - _The Colour-Bearer_ 132 - - _Sanctuary_ 134 - - _Emily Brontë_ 135 - - _Pascal_ 136 - - _Borderlands_ 137 - - _Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore_ 138 - - _Oxford and London: XXVI Sonnets_ - - _Oxford_: - - _I. The Tow-Path_ 145 - - _II. Ad Antiquarium_ 146 - - _III. Martyrs' Memorial_ 147 - - _IV. Parks Road_ 148 - - _V. Tom_ 149 - - _VI, VIa. On the Pre-Reformation Churches about Oxford_ 150 - - _VII. A December Walk_ 152 - - _VIII. The Old Dial of Corpus_ 153 - - _IX. Rooks: New College Gardens_ 154 - - _X. Above Port Meadow_ 155 - - _XI. Undertones at Magdalen_ 156 - - _XII, XIIa. A Last View_ 157 - - _London_: - - _I. On First Entering Westminster Abbey_ 159 - - _II. Fog_ 160 - - _III. St. Peter-ad-Vincula_ 161 - - _IV. Strikers in Hyde Park_ 162 - - _V. Changes in the Temple_ 163 - - _VI. The Lights of London_ 164 - - _VII. Doves_ 165 - - _VIII. In the Reading-Room of the British Museum_ 166 - - _IX. Sunday Chimes in the City_ 167 - - _X. A Porch in Belgravia_ 168 - - _XI. York Stairs_ 169 - - _XII. In the Docks_ 170 - - _Notes_ 171 - - - - -HAPPY ENDING - - - - -_The Kings_ - - - A MAN said unto his Angel: - "My spirits are fallen low, - And I cannot carry this battle: - O brother! where might I go? - - "The terrible Kings are on me - With spears that are deadly bright; - Against me so from the cradle - Do fate and my fathers fight." - - Then said to the man his Angel: - "Thou wavering witless soul, - Back to the ranks! What matter - To win or to lose the whole, - - "As judged by the little judges - Who hearken not well, nor see? - Not thus, by the outer issue, - The Wise shall interpret thee. - - "Thy will is the sovereign measure - And only event of things: - The puniest heart, defying, - Were stronger than all these Kings. - - "Though out of the past they gather, - Mind's Doubt, and Bodily Pain, - And pallid Thirst of the Spirit - That is kin to the other twain, - - "And Grief, in a cloud of banners, - And ringletted Vain Desires, - And Vice, with the spoils upon him - Of thee and thy beaten sires,-- - - "While Kings of eternal evil - Yet darken the hills about, - Thy part is with broken sabre - To rise on the last redoubt; - - "To fear not sensible failure, - Nor covet the game at all, - But fighting, fighting, fighting, - Die, driven against the wall." - - - - -_The Squall_ - - - WHILE all was glad, - It seemed our birch-tree had, - That August hour, intelligence of death; - For warningly against the eaves she beat - Her body old, lamenting, prophesying, - And the hot breath - Of ferny hollows nestled at her feet - Spread out in startled sighing. - - Across an argent sea, - Distinct unto the farthest reef and isle, - The clouds began to be. - Huge forms 'neath sombre draperies, awhile - Made slow uncertain rally; - But as their ranks conjoined, and from the north - The leader shook his lance, Oh, then how fair - Unvested, they stood forth, - In diverse armour, plumed majestically, - Each with his own esquires, a King in air! - - Up moved the dark vanguard, - With insolent colours that o'erdusked the skies, - And trailed from beach to beach: - Massed orange and mould-green; vermilion barred - On bronze or mottled silver; saffron dyes - And purples migratory - Fanned each in each, - As the long column broke, athirst for glory. - - Sudden, the thunder! - Upon the roofed verandas how it rolled, - Twice, thrice: a thud and flame of doom that told - New-fallen, nor far away, - Some black destruction on the innocent day. - And little Everard - Deep in the hammock under, eyes alight - With healthful fear and wonder - The brave do ne'er unlearn, - Clenched his soft hand, and breathing hard, - Smiled there against his father, like a knight - Baptized on Cressy field or Bannockburn. - - A moment gone, - Into our paradise from Acheron, - With imperceptive sorcery crawled ashore - Odours unnamable: an exhalation - Of men and ships in oozy graves. (Ah, cease, - Derisive nereids! cease: - Be it enough, that even ye can pour, - From crystal flagons of your ancient peace, - So strange obscene libation.) - But with the thunder-peal - Sprang the pure winds, their thurible swung wide, - To chase that tainted tide; - Fresh from the pastures and the cedar-grove, - They rode the copper ridges of the main, - And bared a league of distance to reveal - A sail, aslant, astrain, - Impetuous for the cove; - And tossing after, panic-stricken, - Another, and a third: white spirits, fain to sicken, - Nor out of natural harm salvation gain. - - The selfsame hunter winds that drave - The horror down, as faithful-hearted drew - The sad clouds from their carnage, and up-piled - Their rebel gonfalons, or jocund threw - Their cannon in the wave; - And subtly, with a parting whisper, gave - An eve most mild: - A sunset like a prayer, a world all rose and blue: - - A good world, as it was, - And as it shall be: clear circumferent space, - Where punctual yet, for worship of their Cause, - The stars came thick in choir. - Sleep had our Everard in her cool embrace, - Else from his cot he hardly need have stooped - To see (and laugh to see!) the headland pine - Embossed on changing fire: - For close behind it, cooped - Within a smallest span, - In fury, to and fro and round and round, - The routed leopards of the lightning ran: - Bright, bright, inside their dungeon-bars, malign - They ran; and ran till dawn, without a sound. - - - - -_Open, Time_ - - - OPEN, Time, and let him pass - Shortly where his feet would be! - Like a leaf at Michaelmas - Swooning from the tree, - - Ere its hour the manly mind - Trembles in a sure decrease, - Nor the body now can find - Any hold on peace. - - Take him, weak and overworn; - Fold about his dying dream - Boyhood, and the April morn, - And the rolling stream: - - Weather on a sunny ridge, - Showery weather, far from here; - Under some deep-ivied bridge, - Water rushing clear: - - Water quick to cross and part - (Golden light on silver sound), - Weather that was next his heart - All the world around! - - Soon upon his vision break - These, in their remembered blue; - He shall toil no more, but wake - Young, in air he knew. - - He hath done with roofs and men. - Open, Time, and let him pass, - Vague and innocent again, - Into country grass. - - - - -_The Knight Errant_ - -(_Donatello's Saint George_) - - - SPIRITS of old that bore me, - And set me, meek of mind, - Between great dreams before me, - And deeds as great behind, - Knowing humanity my star - As first abroad I ride, - Shall help me wear with every scar - Honour at eventide. - - Let claws of lightning clutch me - From summer's groaning cloud, - Or ever malice touch me, - And glory make me proud. - Oh, give my youth, my faith, my sword, - Choice of the heart's desire: - A short life in the saddle, Lord! - Not long life by the fire. - - Forethought and recollection - Rivet mine armour gay! - The passion for perfection - Redeem my failing way! - The arrows of the upper slope - From sudden ambush cast, - Rain quick and true, with one to ope - My Paradise at last! - - I fear no breathing bowman, - But only, east and west, - The awful other foeman - Impowered in my breast. - The outer fray in the sun shall be, - The inner beneath the moon; - And may Our Lady lend to me - Sight of the Dragon soon! - - - - -_To a Dog's Memory_ - - - THE gusty morns are here, - When all the reeds ride low with level spear; - And on such nights as lured us far of yore, - Down rocky alleys yet, and through the pine, - The Hound-star and the pagan Hunter shine: - But I and thou, ah, field-fellow of mine, - Together roam no more. - - Soft showers go laden now - With odours of the sappy orchard-bough, - And brooks begin to brawl along the march; - Steams the late frost from hollow sedges high; - The finch is come, the flame-blue dragonfly, - The marsh-born marigold that children spy, - The plume upon the larch. - - There is a music fills - The oaks of Belmont and the Wayland hills - Southward to Dewing's little bubbly stream,-- - The heavenly weather's call! Oh, who alive - Hastes not to start, delays not to arrive, - Having free feet that never felt a gyve - Weigh, even in a dream? - - But thou, instead, hast found - The sunless April uplands underground, - And still, wherever thou art, I must be. - My beautiful! arise in might and mirth, - (For we were tameless travellers from our birth); - Arise against thy narrow door of earth, - And keep the watch for me. - - - - -_Memorial Day_ - - - O DAY of roses and regret, - Kissing the old graves of our own! - Not to the slain love's lovely debt - Alone. - - But jealous hearts that live and ache, - Remember; and while drums are mute, - Beneath your banners' bright outbreak, - Salute: - - And say for us to lessening ranks - That keep the memory and the pride, - On whose thinned hair our tears and thanks - Abide, - - Who from their saved Republic pass, - Glad with the Prince of Peace to dwell: - _Hail, dearest few! and soon, alas, - Farewell_. - - - - -_Romans in Dorset_ - -_A.D. MDCCCXCV_ - - - A STUPOR on the heath, - And wrath along the sky; - Space everywhere; beneath - A flat and treeless wold for us, and darkest noon on high. - - Sullen quiet below, - But storm in upper air! - A wind from long ago, - In mouldy chambers of the cloud had ripped an arras there, - - And singed the triple gloom, - And let through, in a flame, - Crowned faces of old Rome: - Regnant o'er Rome's abandoned ground, processional they came. - - Uprisen as any sun - Through vistas hollow grey, - Aloft, and one by one, - In brazen casques the Emperors loomed large, and sank away. - - In ovals of wan light - Each warrior eye and mouth: - A pageant brutal bright - As if once over loudly passed Jove's laughter in the south; - - And dimmer, these among, - Some cameo'd head aloof, - With ringlets heavy-hung, - Like yellow stonecrop comely grown around a castle roof. - - An instant: gusts again, - Then heaven's impacted wall, - The hot insistent rain, - The thunder-shock; and of the Past mirage no more at all, - - No more the alien dream - Pursuing, as we went, - With glory's cursèd gleam: - Nor sin of Cæsar's ruined line engulfed us, innocent. - - The vision great and dread - Corroded; sole in view - Was empty Egdon spread, - Her crimson summer weeds ashake in tempest: but we knew - - What Tacitus had borne - In that wrecked world we saw; - And what, thine heart uptorn, - My Juvenal! distraught with love of violated Law. - - - - -_Horologion_ - - - THE frost may form apace, - The roses pine away: - Nomæa! if I see thy face, - Then is the summer day. - - A word of thine, a breath, - And lo! my joy shall seem - To peer far down where life and death - Stir like a forded stream; - - Or else shall misery sound - And travel in that hour - All utmost things in their shut round, - As a bee feels his flower. - - Thought lags and cries Alas, - Love ranges quick and free. - Oh, figured clock and sanded glass, - They mark no term for me. - - And since I can but rue - The calendar gone wrong, - And dials never telling true - If dreams be short or long, - - Dear, from these arts that fail - To thee I will repair. - Till the last eve dance down the gale - With no star in her hair, - - Be thou my solar chime, - Be thou my wheel of night, - Be thy bright heart, not ashen Time, - My measure, law, and light. - - - - -_His Angel to his Mother_ - - - WHAT would you do for your fairest one, - Wild as the wind and free as the sun, - Born a fugitive, sure to slip - Soon from secular ownership? - Men in search of the heart's desire, - Wearily trampling flood and fire, - Rove betimes into some abyss - Darker far than eternity's. - (Ah, the hazard! it awes one so!) - - _And shall it be thus with the boy, or no? - Sweet, if you love him, let him go._ - - Happy the Frontier to have gained - Undetaining and undetained, - Quick and clean, like a solar ray - Shot through spindrift across the bay! - Men would follow a long vain quest, - Feed on ashes and forfeit rest, - Bleed with battle and flag with toil, - Only to stifle in desert soil. - (Ah, the failure! it stings one so!) - - _And shall it be thus with the boy, or no? - Sweet, if you love him, let him go._ - - Vats fill up, and the sheaves are in: - Never a blessing is left to win - Save for the myrtle coronal - Round the urn at the end of all. - Men will clutch, as they clutched of old, - Souring honey or dimming gold, - Not the treasure-trove of the land - Here shut fast in a roseleaf hand. - (Ah, the folly! it irks one so!) - - _And shall it be thus with the boy, or no? - Sweet, if you love him, let him go._ - - - - -_Autumn Magic_ - - - SOON as divine September, flushing from sea to sea, - Peers from the whole wide upland into eternity, - - Soft as an exhalation, ghosts of the thistle start: - Never a poet saw them but ached in his baffled heart. - - Gossamer armies rising thicker than snowflakes fall, - Waken in blood and marrow, aware of the unheard call. - - Oh, what a nameless urging through avenues laid in air, - Hints of escape, unbodied, intricate, everywhere, - - Sense of a feared denial, or access hard to be won; - Gleams of a dubious gesture for guesses to feed upon! - - Flame goes flying in heaven, the down on the cool hillside: - Earth is a bride-veil glory to show and conceal the Bride. - - - - -_Five Carols for Christmastide_ - - -I - - THE OX he openeth wide the Doore, - And from the Snowe he calls her inne, - And he hath seen her Smile therefor, - Our Ladye without Sinne. - Now soone from Sleep - A Starre shall leap, - And soone arrive both King and Hinde: - _Amen, Amen_: - But O, the Place co'd I but finde! - - The Ox hath hush'd his voyce and bent - Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow, - And on his lovelie Neck, forspent, - The Blessed layes her Browe. - Around her feet - Full Warme and Sweete - His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell: - _Amen, Amen_: - But sore am I with Vaine Travèl! - - The Ox is host in Judah stall - And Host of more than onelie one, - For close she gathereth withal - Our Lorde her littel Sonne. - Glad Hinde and King - Their Gyfte may bring, - But wo'd to-night my Teares were there, - _Amen, Amen_: - Between her Bosom and His hayre! - - -II - - VINES branching stilly - Shade the open door, - In the house of Zion's Lily, - Cleanly and poor. - Oh, brighter than wild laurel - The Babe bounds in her hand, - The King, who for apparel - Hath but a swaddling-band, - And sees her heavenlier smiling than stars in His command! - - Soon, mystic changes - Part Him from her breast, - Yet there awhile He ranges - Gardens of rest: - Yea, she the first to ponder - Our ransom and recall, - Awhile may rock Him under - Her young curls' fall, - Against that only sinless love-loyal heart of all. - - What shall inure Him - Unto the deadly dream, - When the Tetrarch shall abjure Him, - The thief blaspheme, - And scribe and soldier jostle - About the shameful tree, - And even an Apostle - Demand to touch and see?-- - But she hath kissed her Flower where the Wounds are to be. - - -III - - THREE without slumber ride from afar, - Fain of the roads where palaces are; - All by a shed as they ride in a row, - "Here!" is the cry of their vanishing Star. - - First doth a greybeard, glittering fine, - Look on Messiah in slant moonshine: - "_This have I bought for Thee!_" Vainly: for lo, - Shut like a fern is the young hand divine. - - Next doth a magian, mantled and tall, - Bow to the Ruler that reigns from a stall: - "_This have I sought for Thee!_" Though it be rare, - Loath little fingers are letting it fall. - - Last doth a stripling, bare in his pride, - Kneel by the Lover as if to abide: - "_This have I wrought for Thee!_" Answer him there - Laugh of a Child, and His arms opened wide. - - -IV - - WAS a Soule from farre away - Stood wistful in the Hay, - And of the Babe a-sleeping hadde a sight: - Neither reck'd hee any more - Men behind him and before, - Nor a thousand busie Winges, flitting light: - But in middle of the night - This few-worded wight - (_Yule! Yule!_) - Bespake Our Ladye bright: - - "Fill mee, ere my corage faints, - With the lore of all the Saints: - Harte to harte against my Brother let mee be. - By the Fountaines that are His - I wo'd slumber where Hee is: - Prithee, Mother, give the other Brest to mee!" - The Soule that none co'd see - She hath taken on her knee: - (_Yule! Yule!_) - Sing prayse to Our Ladye. - - -V - - _The Ox and the Ass, - Tell aloud of them: - Sing their pleasure as it was - In Bethlehem._ - - STILL as blowing rose, sudden as a sword, - Maidenly the Maiden bare Jesu Christ the Lord; - Yet for very lowlihood, such a Guest to greet, - Goeth in a little swoon while kissing of His feet. - - Mary, drifted snow on the earthen floor, - Joseph, fallen wondrous weak now he would adore,-- - (Oh, the surging might of love! Oh, the drowning bliss!) - Both are rapt to Heaven and lose their human Heaven that is. - - From the Newly Born trails a lonely cry. - With a mind to heed, the Ox turns a glowing eye; - In the empty byre the Ass thinks her heart to blame: - Up for comforting of God the beasts of burden came, - - Softly to inquire, thrusting as for cheer - There between the tender hands, furry faces dear. - Blessing on the honest coats! tawny coat and grey - Friended Our Delight so well when warmth had strayed away. - - Crooks are on the sill; sceptres sail the wave; - All the hopes of all the years are thronging to the Cave. - Mother slept not long, nor long Father's sense was dim, - But another twain the while stood parent-wise to Him. - - _The Ox and the Ass, - Be you glad for them - Such a moment came to pass - In Bethlehem!_ - - - - -_On Leaving Winchester_ - - - WINTON, my window with a mossy marge, - My lofty oriel, whence the soul hath sight - Of passionate yesterdays, all gold and large, - Arisen to enrich our narrow night: - Though others bless thee, who so blest before - Hath pastured from the violent time apart, - And laved in supersensual light the heart - Alone with thy magnificent No More? - - Sweet court of roses now, sweet camp of bees! - The hills that lean to thy white bed at dawn - Hear, for the clash of raging dynasties, - Laughter of boys about a branchy lawn. - Hast thou a stain, let ivy cover all; - Nor seem of greatness disinhabited - While spirits in their wonted splendour tread - From close to close, by Wolvesey's idle wall. - - Bright fins against thy lucid waters leap, - And nigh thy towers the nesting ring-doves dwell; - Be lenient winter, and long moons, and sleep - Upon thee; but on me the sharp Farewell. - Happy art thou, O clad and crowned with rest! - Happy the shepherd (would that I were he!) - Whose early way is step for step with thee, - Whose old brow fades on thine immortal breast. - - - - -_Cobwebs_ - - - WHO would not praise thee, miracle of Frost? - Some gesture overnight, some breath benign, - And lo! the tree's a fountain all a-shine, - The hedge a throne of unimagined cost; - In wheel and fan along a wall embossed, - The spider's humble handiwork shows fine - With jewels girdling every airy line: - Though the small mason in the cold be lost. - - Web after web, a morning snare of bliss - Starring with beauty the whole neighbourhood, - May well beget an envy clean and good. - When man goes too into the earth-abyss, - And God in His altered garden walks, I would - My secret woof might gleam so fair as this. - - - - -_Astræa_ - - - SINCE I avail no more, O men! with you, - I will go back unto the gods content; - For they recall me, long with earth inblent, - Lest lack of faith divinity undo. - I served you truly while I dreamed you true, - And golden pains with sovereign pleasure spent: - But now, farewell! I take my sad ascent, - With failure over all I nursed and knew. - - Are ye unwise, who would not let me love you? - Or must too bold desires be quieted? - Only to ease you, never to reprove you, - I will go back to heaven with heart unfed: - Yet sisterly I turn, I bend above you, - To kiss (ah, with what sorrow!) all my dead. - - - - -_The Yew-Tree_ - - - AS I came homeward - At merry Christmas, - By the old Church tower - Through the Churchyard grass, - - And saw there circled - With graves all about, - The Yew-tree paternal, - The Yew-tree devout, - - Then this hot life-blood - Was hard to endure, - O Death! so I loved thee, - The sole love sure. - - For stars slip in heaven, - They wander, they break; - But under the Yew-tree - Not one heartache. - - And ours, what failure - Renewed and avowed! - But ah, the long-buried - Is leal, and is proud. - - * * * * * - - At eve, o'erlooking - The smooth chilly tide, - With age-hidden meaning - The Yew-tree sighed, - - By the square grey tower, - In the short grey grass, - As I came homeward - At merry Christmas. - - - - -_Ten Colloquies_ - - -I. THE SEARCH - - "WHY dost thou hide from these - Out along the hills halloaing? - Why hast forbade - Thy face, O goddess! to thy votaries?" - - "_Unasking and unknowing - Is he whom I make glad, - Like Dian grandly going - To the sleeping shepherd-lad. - Men that pursue learn not - To follow is my lot._" - - "Happiness, secret one, - Heartbeat of the April weather, - Where art thou found? - Tell; lest I err too, yonder in the sun." - - "_Call in thine eye from ether, - Thy feet from far ground; - Seek Honour in this heather, - With austere purples wound. - Serve her: she will reveal - Me, hound-like at thy heel._" - - -II. FACT AND THE MYSTIC - - "GOOD-MORROW, Symbol."--"_Call me not - The name I neither love nor merit._" - --"That grave eternal name inherit, - Thine ever, though all men forgot." - - "_Mistake me not; secure and free - From rock to rock my falchion passes: - But Symbols trail through grey morasses - The tattered shows of faëry._" - - "My Symbol thou, of phantom blood, - With starlight from thy temples raying; - Along thy floated body playing - Are withering wings, and wings in bud." - - "_Alas, thine eye with clay is sealed._" - --"Symbol, before the clay's denial, - While yet I had a god's espial, - I saw thee in a solar field!" - - "_Nay: I am Fact._"--"Then lose thy praise; - And lest to-day no song behoove thee, - Lest mine impeach thee, or reprove thee, - Ah, Symbol, Symbol! go thy ways." - - -III. THE POET'S CHART - - "WHERE shall I find my light?" - - "_Turn from another's track: - Whether for gain or lack, - Love but thy natal right. - Cease to follow withal, - Though on thine up-led feet - Flakes of the phosphor fall. - Oracles overheard - Are never again for thee, - Nor at a magian's knee - Under the hemlock tree, - Burns the illumining word._" - - "Whence shall I take my law?" - - "_Neither from sires nor sons, - Nor the delivered ones, - Holy, invoked with awe. - Rather, dredge the divine - Out of thine own poor dust, - Feebly to speak and shine. - Schools shall be as they are: - Be thou truer, and stray - Alone, intent, and away, - In a savage wild to obey - Some dim primordial star._" - - -IV. OF THE GOLDEN AGE - - "RECALL for me, recall - The time more true and ample; - The world whereon I trample, - How tortuous and small! - Behold, I tire of all. - - "Once, gods in jewelled mail - Through greenwood ways invited; - There how the moon is blighted, - And mosses long and pale - On lifeless cedars trail." - - "_Child, keep this good unrest: - But give to thine own story - Simplicity with glory; - To greatness dispossessed, - Dominion of thy breast._ - - "_In abstinence, in pride, - Thou, who from Folly's boldest - Thy sacred eye withholdest, - Another morn shalt ride - At Agamemnon's side._" - - -V. ON TIME'S THRESHOLD - - "_See: brood: remember: this thy function only; - Neither to have nor do is meet for thee._" - "Ah, earth's a palace where I must go lonely!" - "_Nay: earth's a dungeon which thou passest, free._" - - -VI. WOOD-PIGEONS - - "I CANNOT soar beside, but must for ever suffer - Blue air athrill with thee to lap against my breast, - And dream it is thy wing." - --"_Dear, sighs about thee hover: - Among the dewy leaves my longing is thy guest. - Yet, lone and far apart, shall we no joy discover - To travel the same sky, and by one sea to rest? - Say, mate in all this world?_" - --"Ah, mute forbidden lover, - Ah, song I shall not hear!" - --"_Ah, sweet unbuilded nest!_" - - -VII. PREDICAMENTS - - "IF the gods ruin send?"-- - "_Make that thy bride and friend._" - - "If the gods cheat?"--"_They say - The one true word alway._" - - "If for some loss I pine?" - "--_The past is theirs, yet thine._" - - "If I sue not?"--"_Vain cares! - The morrow's thine, not theirs._" - - -VIII. THE CO-ETERNAL - - "_Is it thou, silly heart, - Not prone on thy pallet, but grieving apart?_" - --"Natal Star, even so." - "_I miss thee to-night, while thou smoulderest low._" - --"Live in beauty! but I - For bloodshed of spirit, here dwindle and die." - - "_Are we two not the same, - By law everlasting one mystical flame? - Aloft if I burn, - Every ray of my light be thy stair of return: - Up, up! to our lot - Where warfare and time and the body are not._" - - -IX. STERN APHRODITE - - "IOLE is coy with me, - Goddess! for a month I suffer - Knowing not how far I be: - Teach me softer arts, or rougher, - Well to sail that sea." - - "_Fie: how long could Love divine - Venturing, abstain from answer, - Nor look landward for a sign! - Niggard, take of thine entrancer - Shipwreck in the brine._" - - -X. THE JUBILEE - - "_Master of your wounded heart, regent of your pleasure! - We that long defied your art, tamèd Moods at leisure, - All with you, nor now apart, would tread out our measure._" - - "Welcome, equal powers benign, quit of ancient madness! - Dance with me beneath the vine, not ungentle Sadness; - Link your little hand in mine soberly, my Gladness." - - - - -_Winter Boughs_ - - - HOW tender and how slow, in sunset cheer, - Far on the hill, our quiet treetops fade! - A broidery of ebon seaweed, laid - Long in a book, were scarce more fine and clear. - Frost and sad light and windless atmosphere - Have breathed on them, and of their frailties made - Beauty more sweet than summer's builded shade, - Whose green domes fallen, leave this wonder here. - - O ye forgetting and outliving boughs, - With not a plume, gay in the joust before, - Left for the Archer! so, in evening's eye, - So stilled, so lifted, let your lover die, - Set in the upper calm no voices rouse, - Stript, meek, withdrawn, against the heavenly door. - - - - -_W.H._ - -_A.D. MDCCLXXVIII-MDCCCXXX_ - - - BETWEEN the wet trees and the sorry steeple, - Keep, Time, in dark Soho, what once was Hazlitt, - Seeker of Truth, and finder oft of Beauty; - - Beauty's a sinking light, ah, none too faithful; - But Truth, who leaves so here her spent pursuer, - Forgets not her great pawn: herself shall claim it. - - Therefore sleep safe, thou dear and battling spirit, - Safe also on our earth, begetting ever - Some one love worth the ages and the nations! - - Falleth no thing that was to thee eternal. - Sleep safe in dark Soho: the stars are shining, - Titian and Wordsworth live; the People marches. - - - - -_The Vigil-at-Arms_ - - - KEEP holy watch with silence, prayer, and fasting - Till morning break, and every bugle play; - Unto the One aware from everlasting - Dear are the winners: thou art more than they. - - Forth from this peace on manhood's way thou goest, - Flushed with resolve, and radiant in mail; - Blessing supreme for men unborn thou sowest, - O knight elect! O soul ordained to fail! - - - - -_A Friend's Song for Simoisius_ - - - THE breath of dew and twilight's grace - Be on the lonely battle-place, - And to so young, so kind a face, - The long protecting grasses cling! - (Alas, alas, - That one inexorable thing!) - - In rocky hollows cool and deep, - The honey-bees unrifled sleep; - The early moon from Ida steep - Comes to the empty wrestling-ring; - - Upon the widowed wind recede - No echoes of the shepherd's reed; - And children without laughter lead - The war-horse to the watering; - - With footstep separate and slow - The father and the mother go, - Not now upon an urn they know - To mingle tears for comforting. - - Thou stranger Ajax Telamon! - What to the lovely hast thou done, - That nevermore a maid may run - With him across the flowery Spring? - - The world to me has nothing dear - Beyond the namesake river here: - Oh, Simois is wild and clear! - And to his brink my heart I bring; - - My heart, if only this might be, - Would stay his waters from the sea, - To cover Troy, to cover me, - To haste the hour of perishing. - (Alas, alas, - That one inexorable thing!) - - - - -_To an Ideal_ - - - THAT I have tracked you from afar, my crown I call it and my height: - All hail, O dear and difficult star! All hail, O heart of light! - No pleasure born of time for me, - Who in you touch eternity. - If I have found you where you are, I win my mortal fight. - - You flee the plain: I therefore choose summit and solitude for mine, - The high air where I cannot lose our comradeship divine. - More lovely here, to wakened blood, - Sparse leaf and hesitating bud, - Than rosaries in the dewy vales for which the dryads pine. - - Spirit austere! lend aid: I walk along inclement ridges too, - Disowning toys of sense, to baulk my soul of ends untrue. - Because man's cry, by night and day, - Cried not for God, I broke away. - On, at your ruthless pace! I'll stalk, a hilltop ghost, with you. - - - - -_In a Ruin, after a Thunder Storm_ - - - KEEP of the Norman, old to flood and cloud! - Thou dost reproach me with thy sunset look, - That in our common menace I forsook - Hope, the last fear, and stood impartial proud: - Almost, almost, while ether spake aloud, - Death from the smoking stones my spirit shook - Into thy hollow as leaves into a brook, - No more than they by heaven's assassins cowed. - - But now thy thousand-scarrèd steep is flecked - With the calm kisses of the light delayed, - Breathe on me better valour: to subject - My soul to greed of life, and grow afraid - Lest ere her fight's full term, the Architect - See downfall of the stronghold that He made. - - - - -_Beati Mortui_ - - - BLESSED the Dead in Spirit, our brave dead - Not passed, but perfected: - Who tower up to mystical full bloom - From self, as from a known alchemic tomb; - Who out of wrong - Run forth with laughter and a broken thong; - Who win from pain their strange and flawless grant - Of peace anticipant; - Who cerements lately wore of sin, but now, - Unbound from foot to brow, - Gleam in and out of cities, beautiful - As sun-born colours of a forest pool - Where Autumn sees - The splash of walnuts from her thinning trees. - - Though wondered-at of some, yea, feared almost - As any chantry ghost, - How sight of these, in hermitage or mart, - Makes glad a wistful heart! - For life's apologetics read most true - In spirits risen anew, - Like larks in air - To whom flat earth is all a heavenward stair, - And who from yonder parapet - Scorn every mortal fret, - And rain their sweet bewildering staves - Upon our furrow of fresh-delvèd graves. - - If thus to have trod and left the wormy way - Makes men so wondrous gay, - So stripped and free and potently alive, - Who would not his infirmity survive, - And bathe in victory, and come to be - As blithe as ye, - Saints of the ended wars? Ah, greeting give; - Turn not away, too fugitive: - But hastening towards us, hallow the foul street, - And sit with us at meat, - And of your courtesy, on us unwise - Fix oft those purer eyes, - Till in ourselves who love them dwell - The same sure light ineffable: - Till they who walk with us in after years - Forgetting time and tears - (As we with you), shall sing all day instead: - "How blessed are the Dead!" - - - - -_Two Irish Peasant Songs_ - - -I. IN LEINSTER - - I TRY to knead and spin, but my life is low the while. - Oh, I long to be alone, and walk abroad a mile; - Yet if I walk alone, and think of naught at all, - Why from me that's young should the wild tears fall? - - The shower-sodden earth, the earth-coloured streams, - They breathe on me awake, and moan to me in dreams, - And yonder ivy fondling the broke castle-wall, - It pulls upon my heart till the wild tears fall. - - The cabin-door looks down a furze-lighted hill, - And far as Leighlin Cross the fields are green and still; - But once I hear the blackbird in Leighlin hedges call, - The foolishness is on me, and the wild tears fall! - - -II. IN ULSTER - - 'TIS the time o' the year, if the quicken-bough be staunch, - The green like a breaker rolls steady up the branch, - And surges in the spaces, and floods the trunk, and heaves - In jets of angry spray that is the under-white of leaves; - And from the thorn in companies the foamy petals fall, - And waves of jolly ivy wink along a windy wall. - - 'Tis the time o' the year the marsh is full of sound, - And good and glorious it is to smell the living ground. - The crimson-headed catkin shakes above the pasture-bars, - The daisy takes the middle field and spangles it with stars, - And down the hedgerow to the lane the primroses do crowd, - All coloured like the twilight moon, and spreading like a cloud! - - 'Tis the time o' the year, in early light and glad, - The lark has a music to drive a lover mad; - The rocks are dripping nightly, the breathèd damps arise, - Deliciously the freshets cool the grayling's golden eyes, - And lying in a row against the chilly north, the sheep - Inclose a place without a wind for tender lambs to sleep. - - 'Tis the time o' the year I turn upon the height - To watch from my harrow the dance of going light; - And if before the sun be hid, come slowly up the vale - Honora with her dimpled throat, Honora with her pail, - Hey, but there's many a March for me, and many and many a lass!-- - I fall to work and song again, and let Honora pass. - - - - -_The Japanese Anemone_ - - - ALL summer the breath of the roses around - Exhales with a delicate passionate sound; - And when from a trellis, in holiday places, - They croon and cajole, with their slumberous faces, - A lad in the lane must slacken his paces. - - Fragrance of these is a voice from a bower: - But low by the wall is my odourless flower, - So pure, so controlled, not a fume is above her, - That poet or bee should delay there and hover; - For she is a silence, and therefore I love her. - - And never a mortal by morn or midnight - Is called to her hid little house of delight; - And she keeps from the wind, on his pillages olden, - Upon a true stalk in rough weather upholden, - Her winter-white gourd with the hollow moon-golden. - - While ardours of roses contend and increase, - Methinks she has found how noble is peace, - Like a spirit besought from the world to dissever, - Not absent to men, though resumed by the Giver, - And dead long ago, being lovely for ever. - - - - -_Orisons_ - - - ORANGE and olive and glossed bay-tree, - And air of the evening out at sea, - And out at sea on the steep warm stone, - A little bare diver poising alone. - - Flushed from the cool of Sicilian waves, - Flushed as the coral in clean sea-caves, - "I am!" he cries to his glorying heart, - And unto he knows not what: "THOU art!" - - He leaps, he shines, he sinks and is gone: - He will climb to the golden ledge anon. - Perfecter rite can none employ, - When the god of the isle is good to a boy. - - - - -_The Inner Fate: a Chorus_ - - - NOT weak with eld - The stars beheld - Proud Persia coming to her doom; - Not battle-broke, nor tempest-tossed, - The long luxurious galleys lost - Their souls at Actium. - - Not outer arts - Of hostile hearts - Seduced the arm of France to be - The wreckage of his wars at last, - The orphan of the kingdoms, cast - Upon the mothering sea. - - Man evermore doth work his will, - And evermore the gods are still, - Applauding him alone who stands - Too just for Heaven-accusing groans, - But in his house of havoc owns - The doing of his hands: - Transgressor, yet divinely taught - To suffer all, blaspheming naught, - When fair-begun must foul conclude: - Himself progenitor of death - Who breeds, within, the only breath - Can kill beatitude. - - - - -_The Acknowledgment_ - - - SINCE first I knew it our divine employ - To beat beyond the reach of soiling care, - As at Philippi, well of doom aware, - The Prætor called and heard the singing-boy; - Since first my soul so jealous was of joy, - That any facile linden-bloom in air, - Or fall of water on a wildwood stair, - Annulled for her all dragging dull annoy; - Though word of thanks I lacked, though, dumb, I smiled - Long, long, at such august amends up-piled, - Let this the debt redeem: that when Ye drop - Death's aloe-leaf within my honeyed cup, - On thoughtful knee your much-beholden child, - Immortals! unto You will drink it up. - - - - -_By the Trundle-bed_ - - - LOST love, be never beyond Love's calling! - For this I claim of you, strong heart, sweet - As fontal water in Arden falling, - As first-mown hay in the April heat: - - To tend from heaven, to rear, to harden, - And bring to bloom in the outer cold, - Our daffodil bud of a walled-in garden, - Our son that is like you, and six years old; - - And lest his worth be the worth unreal, - To ward him not from the mortal blast, - But suffer your own, through a long ordeal, - Verily like you to be at the last, - - And hear men murmur, if so he merit - In your old place with your look to arise: - "The sign of a saved soul who can inherit?-- - You have earned, O King! those beautiful eyes." - - - - -_Arboricide_ - - - A WORD of grief to me erewhile: - _We have cut the oak down, in our isle._ - - And I said: "Ye have bereaven - The song-thrush and the bee, - And the fisher-boy at sea - Of his sea-mark in the even; - And gourds of cooling shade, to lie - Within the sickle's sound; - And the old sheep-dog's loyal eye - Of sleep on duty's ground; - And poets of their tent - And quiet tenement. - Ah, impious! who so paid - Such fatherhood, and made - Of murmurous immortality a cargo and a trade." - - For the hewn oak a century fair, - A wound in earth, an ache in air. - - And I said: "No pillared height - With a summer daïs over, - Where a dryad fled her lover - Through the long arcade of light; - Nor 'neath Arcturus rolleth more, - Since the loud leaves are gone, - Between the shorn cliff and the shore, - Pan's organ antiphon. - Some nameless envy fed - This blow at grandeur's head: - Some breathed reproach, o'erdue, - Degenerate men, ye drew! - Hence, for his too plain heavenliness, our Socrates ye slew." - - - - -_The Cherry Bough_ - - - IN a new poet's and a new friend's honour, - Forth from the scornèd town and her gold-getting, - Come men with lutes and bowls, and find a welcome - Here in my garden, - - Find bowers and deep shade and windy grasses, - And by the south wall, wet and forward-jutting, - One early branch fire-tipped with Roman cherries. - Oh, naught is absent, - - Oh, naught but you, kind head that far in prison - Sunk on a weary arm, feels no god's pity - Stroking and sighing where the kingly laurels - Were once so plenty; - - Nor dreams, from revel and strange faces turning, - How on the strength of my fair tree that knew you - I lean to-day, when most my heart is laden - With your rich verses! - - Since, long ago, in other gentler weather, - Ere wrath and exile were, you lay beneath it - (Your symbol then, your innocent wild brother - Glad with your gladness), - - What has befallen in the world of wonder, - That still it puts forth bubbles of sweet colour, - And you, and you that fed our eyes with beauty, - Are sapped and rotten? - - Alas! When my young guests have done with singing, - I break it, leaf and fruit, my garden's glory, - And hold it high among them, and say after: - "O my poor Ovid, - - "Years pass, and loves pass too; and yet remember - For the clear time when we were boys together, - These tears at home are shed; and with you also - Your bough is dying." - - - - -_The Wild Ride_ - - - I HEAR in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses - All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, - All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing. - - Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle - Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, - With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. - - The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses; - There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us: - What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding. - - Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb, - And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam: - Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing. - - A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle, - A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty: - We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers. - - (I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses - All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, - All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.) - - We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind; - We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil. - Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow. - - - - -_Bedesfolk_ - - - WHO is good enough to be - Near the never-stainèd sea? - Ah, not I, - Who thereby - Only sigh: - _Pray for me._ - - Standing underneath some free - Innocent magnanimous tree, - To be true, - There anew - Must I sue: - _Pray for me._ - - Ere I pass on hilly lea - Fellow-lives of glad degree, - Without shame, - Name by name - These I claim: - _Pray for me._ - - Fail not, then, thou kingly sea! - Aid the needy, sister tree! - March herds, - Ye have words! - April birds, - _Pray for me_! - - - - -_In a City Street_ - - - THOUGH sea and mount have beauty and this but what it can, - Thrice fairer than their life the life here battling in the van, - The tragic gleam, the mist and grime, - The dread endearing stain of time, - The sullied heart of man. - - Mine is the clotted sunshine, a bubble in the sky, - That where it dare not enter steals in shrouded passion by; - And mine the saffron river-sails, - And every plane-tree that avails - To rest an urban eye; - - The bells, the dripping gable, the tavern's corner glare; - The cab in firefly darting; the barrel-organ air, - While one by one, or two by two - The hatless babes are waltzing through - The gutters of the Square. - - Not on Thessalian headlands of song and old desire - My spirit chose her pleasure-house, but in the London mire: - Long, long alone she loves to pace, - And find a music in this place - As in a minster choir. - - O names of awe and rapture! O deeds of legendry! - Still is it most of joy within your altered pale to be, - Whose very ills I fain would slake - Mine angels are, and help to make - In Hell a Heaven for me. - - - - -_Florentin_ - -_A.D. MDCCCXC_ - - - HEART all full of heavenward haste, too like the bubble bright - On wild little waters floating half of an April night, - Fled from the ear in music, fled from the eye in light, - - Dear and stainless heart of a boy! No sweeter thing can be - Drawn to the quiet centre of God who is our sea: - Whither, through troubled valleys, we also follow thee. - - - - -_A Song of the Lilac_ - - - ABOVE the wall that's broken, - And from the coppice thinned, - So sacred and so sweet - The lilac in the wind! - For when by night the May wind blows - The lilac-blooms apart, - The memory of his first love - Is shaken on his heart. - - In tears it long was buried, - And trances wrapt it round; - Oh, how they wake it now, - The fragrance and the sound! - For when by night the May wind blows - The lilac-blooms apart, - The memory of his first love - Is shaken on his heart. - - - - -_Monochrome_ - - - SHUT fast again in Beauty's sheath - Where ancient forms renew, - The round world seems above, beneath, - One wash of faintest blue, - - And air and tide so stilly sweet - In nameless union lie, - The little far-off fishing fleet - Goes drifting up the sky. - - Secure of neither misted coast - Nor ocean undefined, - Our flagging sail is like the ghost - Of one that served mankind, - - Who in the void, as we upon - This melancholy sea, - Finds labour and allegiance done, - And Self begin to be. - - - - -_Saint Francis Endeth his Sermon_ - - - "AND now, my clerks who go in fur or feather - Or brighter scales, I bless you all. Be true - To your true Lover and Avenger, whether - By land or sea ye die the death undue. - Then proffer man your pardon; and together - Track him to Heaven, and see his heart made new. - - "From long ago one hope hath in me thriven, - Your hope, mysterious as the scented May: - Not to Himself your titles God hath given - In vain, nor only for our mortal day. - O doves! how from The Dove shall ye be driven? - O darling lambs! ye with The Lamb shall play." - - - - -_An Estray_ - - - WELL we know, not ever here is a footing for thy dream: - Thou art sick for horse and spear beside an Asian stream, - - For the hearth-smoke in the wild, for the goatherd's stave, - For a beauty far exiled, a belief within its grave. - - While another sky and ground orb thy strange remembering, - And no world of mortal bound is the master of thy wing, - - Canst thou yet thy fate forgive, that the godhead in thy breast - Has this life at least to live as a force in rhythmic rest, - - As a seed that bides the hour of obscureness and decay, - Being troth of flower to flower down the long dynastic day? - - Child whom elder airs enfold, who hast greatness to maintain - Where heroic hap of old may return and shine again, - - As too oft across thy heart flits the too familiar light, - How alarms of love upstart at the token quick and slight! - - Lest captivity be o'er, lest thou glide away, and so - From our tents of Nevermore strike the trail of Long Ago. - - - - -_Friendship Broken_ - - -I - - WE chose the faint chill morning, friend and friend, - Pacing the twilight out beneath an oak, - Soul calling soul to judgment; and we spoke - Strange things and deep as any poet penned, - Such truth as never truth again can mend, - Whatever art we use, what gods invoke; - It was not wrath, it made nor strife nor smoke: - Be what it may, it had a solemn end. - - Farewell, in peace. We of the selfsame throne - Are foeman vassals; pale astrologers, - Each a wise skeptic of the other's star. - Silently, as we went our ways alone, - The steadfast sun, whom no poor prayer deters, - Drew high between us his majestic bar. - - -II - - MINE was the mood that shows the dearest face - Through a long avenue, and voices kind - Idle, and indeterminate, and blind - As rumours from a very distant place; - Yet, even so, it gathered the first chase - Of the first swallows where the lane's inclined, - An ebb of wavy wings to serve my mind - For round Spring's vision. Ah, some equal grace - (The calm sense of seen beauty without sight) - Befell thee, honourable heart! no less - In patient stupor walking from the dawn; - Albeit thou too wert loser of life's light, - Like fallen Adam in the wilderness, - Aware of naught but of the thing withdrawn. - - - - -_A Talisman_ - - - TAKE Temperance to thy breast, - While yet is the hour of choosing, - As arbitress exquisite - Of all that shall thee betide; - For better than fortune's best - Is mastery in the using, - And sweeter than any thing sweet - The art to lay it aside! - - - - -_Heathenesse_ - - - NO round boy-satyr, racing from the mere, - Shakes on the mountain lawn his dripping head - This many a May, your sister being dead, - Ye Christian folk! your sister great and dear. - To breathe her name, to think how sad-sincere - Was all her searching, straying, dreaming, dread, - How of her natural night was Plato bred - (A star to keep the ways of honour clear), - - Who will not sigh for her? who can forget - Not only unto campèd Israel, - Nor martyr-maids that as a bridegroom met - The Roman lion's roar, salvation fell? - To Him be most of praise that He is yet - Your God through gods not inaccessible. - - - - -_For Izaak Walton_ - - - CAN trout allure the rod of yore - In Itchen stream to dip? - Or lover of her banks restore - That sweet Socratic lip? - Old fishing and wishing - Are over many a year. - Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear. - - Again the foamy shallows fill, - The quiet clouds amass, - And soft as bees by Catherine Hill - At dawn the anglers pass, - And follow the hollow, - In boughs to disappear. - Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear. - - Nay, rise not now, nor with them take - One amber-freckled fool! - Thy sons to-day bring each an ache - For ancient arts to cool. - But, father, lie rather - Unhurt and idle near; - Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear. - - While thought of thee to men is yet - A sylvan playfellow, - Ne'er by thy marble they forget - In pious cheer to go. - As air falls, the prayer falls - O'er kingly Winchester: - Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear. - - - - -_Fifteen Epitaphs_ - - -I - - I LAID the strewings, darling, on thine urn; - I lowered the torch, I poured the cup to Dis. - Now hushaby, my little child, and learn - Long sleep how good it is. - - In vain thy mother prays, wayfaring hence, - Peace to her heart, where only heartaches dwell; - But thou more blest, O mild intelligence! - Forget her, and Farewell. - - -II - - GENTLE Grecian passing by, - Father of thy peace am I: - Wouldst thou now, in memory, - Give a soldier's flower to me, - Choose the standard named of yore - Beautiful Worth-dying-for, - That shall wither not, but wave - All the year above my grave. - - -III - - LIGHT thou hast of the moon, - Shade of the dammar-pine, - Here on thy hillside bed; - Fair befall thee, O fair - Lily of womanhood, - Patient long, and at last - Here on thy hillside bed, - Happier: ah, Blæsilla! - - -IV - - ME, deep-tressèd meadows, take to your loyal keeping, - Hard by the swish of sickles ever in Aulon sleeping, - Philophron, old and tired, and glad to be done with reaping! - - -V - - UPON thy level tomb, till windy winter morn, - The fallen leaves delay; - But plain and pure their trace is, when themselves are torn - From delicate frost away. - - As here to transient frost the absent leaf is, such - Thou wert and art to me: - So on my passing life is thy long-passèd touch, - O dear Alcithoë! - - -VI - - HAIL, and be of comfort, thou pious Xeno, - Late the urn of many a kinsman wreathing; - On thine own shall even the stranger offer - Plentiful myrtle. - - -VII - - HERE lies one in the earth who scarce of the earth was moulded, - Wise Æthalides' son, himself no lover of study, - Cnopus, asleep, indoors: the young invincible runner. - They from the cliff footpath that see on the grave we made him, - Tameless, slant in the wind, the bare and beautiful iris, - Stop short, full of delight, and cry out: "See, it is Cnopus - Runs, with white throat forward, over the sands to Chalcis!" - - -VIII - - ERE the Ferryman from the coast of spirits - Turn the diligent oar that brought thee thither, - Soul, remember: and leave a kiss upon it - For thy desolate father, for thy sister, - Whichsoever be first to cross hereafter. - - -IX - - JAFFA ended, Cos begun - Thee, Aristeus. Thou wert one - Fit to trample out the sun: - Who shall think thine ardours are - But a cinder in a jar? - - -X - - TWO white heads the grasses cover: - Dorcas, and her lifelong lover. - While they graced their country closes - Simply as the brooks and roses, - Where was lot so poor, so trodden, - But they cheered it of a sudden? - Fifty years at home together, - Hand in hand, they went elsewhither, - Then first leaving hearts behind - Comfortless. Be thou as kind. - - -XI - - AS wind that wasteth the unmarried rose, - And mars the golden breakers in the bay, - Hurtful and sweet from heaven for ever blows - Sad thought that roughens all our quiet day; - - And elder poets envy, while they weep, - Ion, whom first the gods to covert brought, - Here under inland olives laid asleep, - Most wise, most happy, having done with thought. - - -XII - - COWS in the narrowing August marshes, - Cows in a stretch of water - Motionless, - Neck on neck overlapped and drooping; - - These in their troubled and dumb communion, - Thou on the steep bank yonder, - Pastora! - No more ever to lead and love them, - - No more ever. Thine innocent mourners - Pass thy tree in the evening - Heavily, - Hearing another herd-girl calling. - - -XIII - - GO you by with gentle tread. - This was Paula, who is dead: - Dear grey eyes that had a look - Like some rock-o'ershadowed brook, - Voice upon the ear to cling - Sweeter than the cithern string. - With that spirit shy and fair - Quietly and unaware - Climbing past the starry van - Went, for triple talisman, - They to whom the heavens must ope: - Candour, Chastity, and Hope. - - -XIV - - TAKE from an urn my vow and salutation - Unto the land I never now shall see: - Laid here exiled, my heart in desolation - Frets like a child against her breast to be. - - Far from the sky, a rose that opes at even - (One liquid star for dewdrop on the rose), - Far from the shower that nesting low in heaven - Thrice in an hour light-wingèd comes and goes, - - Far from my lost and blessèd and belovèd - Nightfall of June beside the Rhodian wave, - Mine is the pain another isle to covet, - Though all in vain, for gardener of my grave. - - -XV - - PRAISE thou the Mighty Mother for what is wrought, not me, - A nameless nothing-caring head asleep against her knee. - - - - -_Deo Optimo Maximo_ - - - ALL else for use, One only for desire; - Thanksgiving for the good, but thirst for Thee: - Up from the best, whereof no man need tire, - Impel Thou me. - - Delight is menace if Thou brood not by, - Power a quicksand, Fame a gathering jeer. - Oft as the morn (though none of earth deny - These three are dear), - - Wash me of them, that I may be renewed, - And wander free amid my freeborn joys: - Oh, close my hand upon Beatitude! - Not on her toys. - - - - -_Charista Musing_ - - - MOVELESS, on the marge of a sunny cornfield, - Rapt in sudden revery while thou standest, - Like the sheaves, in beautiful Doric yellow - Clad to the ankle, - - Oft to thee with delicate hasty footstep - So I steal, and suffer because I find thee - Inly flown, and only a fallen feather - Left of my darling. - - Give me back thy wakening breath, thy ringlets - Fragrant as the vine of the bean in blossom, - And those eyes of violet dusk and daylight - Under sea-water, - - Eyes too far away, and too full of longing! - Yes: and go not heavenward where I lose thee, - Go not, go not whither I cannot follow, - Being but earthly. - - Willing swallow poisèd upon my finger, - Little wild-wing ever from me escaping, - For the care thou art to me, I thy lover - Love thee, and fear thee. - - - - -_The Still of the Year_ - - - UP from the willow-root - Subduing agonies leap; - The field-mouse and the purple moth - Turn over amid their sleep; - The icicled rocks aloft - Burn amber and blue alway, - And trickling and tinkling - The snows of the drift decay. - Oh, mine is the head must hang - And share the immortal pang! - Winter or spring is fair; - Thaw's hard to bear. - Heigho! my heart's sick. - - Sweet is cherry-time, sweet - A shower, a bobolink, - And trillium, fain far under - Her cloistering leaf to shrink; - But here in the vast, unborn, - Is the bitterest place to be, - Till striving and longing - Shall quicken the earth and me. - What change inscrutable - Is nigh us, we know not well; - Gone is the strength to sigh - Either to live or die. - Heigho! my heart's sick. - - - - -_A Footnote to a Famous Lyric_ - - - TRUE love's own talisman, which here - Shakespeare and Sidney failed to teach, - A steel-and-velvet Cavalier - Gave to our Saxon speech: - - Chief miracle of theme and touch - That all must envy and adore: - _I could not love thee, dear, so much, - Loved I not Honour more._ - - No critic born since Charles was King - But sighed in smiling, as he read: - "Here's theft supreme of everything - A poet might have said!" - - Young knight and wit and beau, who won - Mid war's upheaval, ladies' praise, - Was't well of you, ere you had done, - To blight our modern bays? - - Oh, yet to you, whose random hand - Struck from the dark whole gems like these - (Archaic beauty, never planned - Nor reared by wan degrees, - - Which leaves an artist poor, and Art - An earldom richer all her years); - To you, dead on your shield apart, - Be "_Ave!_" passed in tears. - - 'Twas virtue's breath inflamed your lyre: - Heroic from the heart it ran; - Nor for the shedding of such fire - Lived, since, a manlier man. - - And till your strophe sweet and bold - So lovely aye, so lonely long, - Love's self outdo, dear Lovelace! hold - The parapets of Song. - - - - -_T.W.P._ - -_A.D. MDCCCXIX-MDCCCXCII_ - - - FRIEND who hast gone, and dost enrich to-day - New England brightly building far away, - And crown her liberal walk - With company more choice, and sweeter talk, - - Look not on Fame, but Peace; and in a bower - Receive at last her fulness and her power: - Nor wholly, pure of heart! - Forget thy few, who would be where thou art. - - - - -_Summum Bonum_ - - - WAITING on Him who knows us and our need, - Most need have we to dare not, nor desire, - But as He giveth, softly to suspire - Against His gift with no inglorious greed, - For this is joy, though still our joys recede; - And, as in octaves of a noble lyre, - To move our minds with His, and clearer, higher, - Sound forth our fate: for this is strength indeed. - - Thanks to His love let earth and man dispense - In smoke of worship when the heart is stillest, - A praying more than prayer: "Great good have I, - Till it be greater good to lay it by; - Nor can I lose peace, power, permanence, - For these smile on me from the thing Thou willest!" - - - - -_When on the Marge of Evening_ - - - WHEN on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken, - And winds of dreamy odour are loosened from afar, - Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken, - On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning's dying star, - - I think of thee (O mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!), - Whose greater noonday splendours the many share and see, - While sacred and for ever, some perfect law is keeping - The late, the early twilight, alone and sweet for me. - - - - -_Hylas_ - - - (THERE'S a thrush on the under bough - Fluting evermore and now: - "_Keep--young!_" but who knows how?) - - Jar in arm, they bade him rove - Through the alder's long alcove, - Where the hid spring musically - Gushes to the ample valley. - - Down the woodland corridor, - Odours deepened more and more; - Blossomed dogwood in the briars - Struck her faint delicious fires; - Miles of April passed between - Crevices of closing green, - And the moth, the violet-lover, - By the wellside saw him hover. - - Ah, the slippery sylvan dark! - Never after shall he mark - (On his drownèd cheek down-sinking), - Noisy ploughman drinking, drinking. - - Quit of serving is that wild - Absent and bewitchèd child, - Unto action, age, and danger - Thrice a thousand years a stranger. - - Fathoms low, the naiads sing, - In a birthday welcoming; - Water-white their breasts, and o'er him, - Water-grey, their eyes adore him. - - (There's a thrush on the under bough - Fluting evermore and now: - "_Keep--young!_" but who knows how?) - - - - -_Nocturne_ - - - THE sun that hurt his lovers from on high - Is fallen; she more merciful is nigh, - The blessèd one whose beauty's even glow - Gave never wound to any shepherd's eye. - Above our lonely boat in shallows drifting, - Alone her plaintive form ascends the sky. - - Oh, sing! the water-golds are deepening now, - Almost a hush is on the aspen bough; - Her light caresseth thine, as saint to saint - Sweet interchanged adorings may allow: - Sing, Eunoë, that lily throat uplifting: - They are so like, the holy Moon and thou! - - - - -_To Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey_ - - - YOUNG father-poet! much in you I praise - Adventure high, romantic, vehement, - All with inviolate honour sealed and blent - To the axe-edge that cleft your soldier bays; - Your friendships too, your follies, whims, and frays; - And most, that verse of strict imperious bent - Heard sweetly as from some old harper's tent, - And clanging in the listener's brain for days. - - At Framlingham to-night if there should be - No guest beyond a sea-born wind that sighs, - No guard save moonlight's crossed and trailing spears, - And I, your pilgrim, call you, Oh, let me - In at the gate! and smile into the eyes - That sought you, Surrey, down three hundred years. - - - - -_Planting the Poplar_ - - - BECAUSE thou'rt not an oak - To breast the thunder-stroke, - Or flamy-fruited yew - Darker than Time, how few - Of birds or men or kine - Will love this throne of thine, - Scant Poplar, without shade - Inhospitably made! - Yet, branches never parted - From their straight secret bole, - Yet, sap too single-hearted! - Prosper as my soul. - - In loneliness, in quaint - Perpetual constraint, - In gallant poverty, - A girt and hooded tree, - See if against the gale - Our leafage can avail: - Lithe, equal, naked, true, - Rise up as spirits do, - And be a spirit crying - Before the folk that dream! - My slender early-dying - Poplar, by the stream. - - - - -_To One who would not Spare Himself_ - - - A CENSER playing from a heart all fire, - A flushing, racing, singing mountain stream - Thou art; and dear to us of dull desire - In thy far-going dream. - - Full to the grave be thy too fleeting way, - And full thereafter: few that know thee best - Will grudge it so, for neither thou nor they - Can mate thy soul with rest. - - God put thee from the laws of Time adrift. - Lo, He who moves without delay or haste, - Far less may love the sheaves of ghostly thrift, - Than some diviner waste. - - Be mine to ride in joy, ere thou art gone, - The flame, the torrent, which is one with thee! - Saint, from this pool of dying sweep us on - Where Life must long to be. - - - - -_Winter Peace_ - - - APRIL seemed a restless pain, - June a phantom in the rain; - Weary Autumn without grain - Turned her home, full of tears. - O my year, the most in vain - Of the years! - - While the furrowed field was red, - While the roses rioted, - While a leaf was left to shed, - There was storm in the air. - Now that troubled heart is dead, - All is fair. - - 'Neath a glow of copper-grey - Spreads the stubble far away, - And the hilltop cedars play - Interludes in accord, - And the sun adorns the day - Like a sword. - - Even, usual, and slow, - Blue enchanted breakers go - Over carmine reefs in snow, - With a sail in the lee: - There's the godhead that we know - On the sea. - - Ah, let be a promise vast - So mysteriously downcast! - I will love this year that passed - To her grave in the wild, - And is clear of stain at last - As a child. - - - - -_Sleep_ - - - O GLORIOUS tide, O hospitable tide - On whose mysterious breast my head hath lain, - Lest I, all eased of wounds and washed of stain - Through holy hours, be yet unsatisfied, - Loose me betimes: for in my soul abide - Urgings of memory, and exile's pain - Weighs on me, as the spirit of one slain - May throb for the old strife wherein he died. - - Often and evermore, across the sea - Of dark and dreams, to fatherlands of Day, - Oh, speed me: as that outworn King erewhile - By kind Phæacians borne ashore, so me, - Thy loving healèd ward, fail not to lay - Beneath the olive boughs of mine own isle. - - - - -_Writ in my Lord Clarendon's History of the Rebellion_ - - - HOW life hath cheapen'd, and how blank - The Worlde is! like a fen - Where long ago unstainèd sank - The starrie gentlemen: - Since Marston Moor and Newbury drank - King Charles his gentlemen. - - If Fate in any air accords - What Fate deny'd, Oh, then - I ask to be among your Swordes, - My joyous gentlemen; - Towards Honour's heaven to goe, and towards - King Charles his gentlemen! - - - - -_In a February Garden_ - - - ONE rose till after snowtime - O'erlooked the sodden grass; - Now crocuses are twenty - With spear and torch a plenty, - To keep our Candlemas. - - So thin that winter greyness, - So light that sleep forlorn, - No seventh week uncloses - Between the martyr roses - And crocus newly born. - - All doubt is hushed for ever, - Confuted without sound, - All ruin featly ended, - When bulbs begin their splendid - Gay muster overground; - - And mid the golden heralds - That ride the icy breeze, - Man, too, divinely vernal, - Storms into life eternal - Victoriously with these. - - O Beauty, O Persistence - Ineffable and strong! - Would we had borne with Sorrow - In her unlasting morrow: - And Death was not for long. - - - - -_A Valediction_ - -_R.L.S.: A.D. MDCCCXCIV_ - - - WHEN from the vista of the Book I shrink, - From lauded pens that earn ignoble wage - Begetting nothing joyous, nothing sage, - Nor keep with Shakespeare's use one golden link; - When heavily my sanguine spirits sink - To read too plain on each impostor page - Only of kings the broken lineage,-- - Well for my peace if then on thee I think, - - Louis, our priest of letters, and our knight - With whose familiar baldric Hope is girt, - From whose young hands she bears the Grail away. - All glad, all great! Truer because thou wert, - I am and must be; and in thy known light - Go down to dust, content with this my day. - - - - -_A Footpath Morality_ - - - ALONG the Hills, height unto height - Tosses the dappled light, - Rills in a torrent flow, - And cuckoo calls beyond the third hedgerow. - Young winds nothing can quell - Scale the wild-chestnut citadel, - Again to make - Its thousand faëry white pagodas shake. - Up many a lane - The blue vervain - A coverlid hath featly spread - For the bees' bed, - That those tired sylvan thieves - May lie most soft on the sweet and scalloped leaves. - And by to-morrow morn - Bright agrimony, in the thickets born, - Will high uphold - Each cinquefoil of plain gold; - Dogwood in white will hood herself apace, - And betony flaunt a varied gypsy mace, - And copper pimpernel, true as a clock, - On some waste common, by a rock - Her small dark-centred wheel draw in - Long, long ere dusk begin. - - This day - Of infinite May - Is far more fitly yours than ours, - O spirit-bodied flowers! - What heart disordered sore - Comes through the greenwood door, - Shall for your sake - Find sap and soil and dew, and shall not break; - And hearts beneath no ban - Will in your sight some penance do for man, - Poor lagging man, content to be - Sick with the impact of eternity, - Who might keep step with you in the low grass, - Best part of one strange pageant made in joy to pass! - Not ye, not ye, the privilege disown - To flourish fair and fall fair, and be strewn - Deep in that Will of God, where blend - The origin of beauty and the end. - - - - -_The Light of the House_ - - - BEYOND the cheat of Time, here where you died, you live; - You pace the garden walk, secure and sensitive; - You linger on the stair: Love's lonely pulses leap! - The harpsichord is shaken, the dogs look up from sleep. - - Here, after all the years, you keep the heirdom still; - The youth and joy in you achieve their olden will, - Unbidden, undeterred, with waking sense adored; - And still the house is happy that hath so dear a lord. - - To every inmate heart, confirmed in cheer you brought, - Your name is as a spell midway of speech and thought, - And to a wonted guest (not awestruck heretofore), - The sunshine that was you floods all the open door. - - - - -_An Outdoor Litany_ - - _Donec misereatur nostri._ - - - THE spur is red upon the briar, - The sea-kelp whips the wave ashore; - The wind shakes out the coloured fire - From lamps a-row on the sycamore; - The bluebird with his flitting note - Shows to wild heaven his wedding-coat; - The mink is busy; herds again - Go hillward in the honeyed rain; - The midges meet. I cry to Thee - Whose heart - Remembers each of these: Thou art - My God who hast forgotten me! - - Bright from the mast, a scarf unwound, - The lined gulls in the offing ride; - Along an edge of marshy ground - The shad-bush enters like a bride. - Yon little clouds are washed of care - That climb the blue New England air, - And almost merrily withal - The hyla tunes at evenfall - His oboe in a mossy tree. - So too, - Am I not Thine? Arise, undo - This fear Thou hast forgotten me. - - Happy the vernal rout that come - To their due offices to-day, - And strange, if in Thy mercy's sum, - Excluded man alone decay. - I ask no triumph, ask no joy, - Save leave to live, in law's employ. - As to a weed, to me but give - Thy sap! lest aye inoperative - Here in the Pit my strength shall be: - And still - Help me endure the Pit, until - Thou wilt not have forgotten me. - - - - -_Of Joan's Youth_ - - - I WOULD unto my fair restore - A simple thing: - The flushing cheek she had before! - Out-velveting - No more, no more, - On our sad shore, - The carmine grape, the moth's auroral wing. - - Ah, say how winds in flooding grass - Unmoor the rose; - Or guileful ways the salmon pass - To sea, disclose: - For so, alas, - With Love, alas, - With fatal, fatal Love a girlhood goes. - - - - -_In a Brecon Valley_ - - _Patulis ubi vallibus errans - Subjacet aëriis montibus Isca pater._ - H.V. _Ad Posteros._ - - -I - - I FOLLOWED thee, wild stream of Paradise, - White Usk, for ever showering the sunned bee - In the pink chestnut and the hawthorn tree; - And all along had magical surmise - Of mountains fluctuant in those vesper skies, - As unto mermen, caverned in mid-sea, - Far up the vast green reaches, soundlessly - The giant breakers form, and fall, and rise. - - Above thy poet's dust, by yonder yew, - Ere distance perished, ere a star began, - His clear monastic measure, heard of few, - Through lonelier glens of mine own being ran; - And thou to me wert dear, because I knew - The God who made thee gracious, and the man. - - -II - - IF, by that second lover's power controlled, - In sweet symbolic rite thy breath o'erfills - Fields of no war with vagrant daffodils, - From distance unto distance trailing gold; - If dazzling sands or thickets thee enfold, - Transfigured Usk, where from their mossy sills - Grey hamlets kiss thee, and by herded hills - Diviner run thy shallows than of old;-- - - If intellectual these, Oh! name my Vaughan - Creator too: and close his memory keep - Who from thy fountain, kind to him, hath drawn - Birth, energy, and joy; devotion deep; - A play of thought more mystic than the dawn, - And death at home; and centuried sylvan sleep. - - - - -_A Song of Far Travel_ - - - MANY a time some drowsy oar from the nearer bank invited, - Crossed a narrow stream, and bore in among the reeds moon-lighted, - There to leave me on a shore no ferryman hath sighted. - - Many a time a mountain stile, dark and bright with sudden wetting, - Lured my vagrant foot the while 'twixt uplifting and down-setting,-- - Whither? Thousand mile on mile, beyond the last forgetting. - - Long by hidden ways I wend (past occasion grown a ranger); - Yet enchantment, like a friend, takes from death the tang of danger: - Hardly river or road can end where I need step a stranger. - - - - -_Spring_ - - _With a difference._--HAMLET. - - - AGAIN the bloom, the northward flight, - The fount freed at its silver height, - And down the deep woods to the lowest - The fragrant shadows scarred with light. - - O inescapeable joy of Spring! - For thee the world shall leap and sing; - But by her darkened door thou goest - Henceforward as a spectral thing. - - - - -_The Colour-Bearer_ - - - THY charge was: "Hold My banner - Against our hidden foe; - To war where sounds no manner - Of glorious music, go!" - And like Thy word my answer all joyless: "Be it so." - - Ah, not to brave Thy censure - But win Thy smile of light, - My heart of misadventure - Will end in the losing fight, - And lie out yonder, wattled with wounds from left to right. - - The day will pass of torment, - The evenfall be sweet - When I shall wear for garment - The nakedness of defeat. - But when afield Thou comest, and look'st in vain to meet - - That eagle of the wartime, - That oriflamme, outrolled - With strength of staff aforetime, - With cleanly and costly fold,-- - Ride on, ride on! and seek me with lanthorns through the cold, - - And take from me (turned donor - That night on blood-soaked sand), - The stick and rag of Honour - There safe in a stiffened hand, - Not left, not lost, nor ever a spoil in the victor's land. - - - - -_Sanctuary_ - - - HIGH above hate I dwell: - O storms! farewell. - Though at my sill your daggered thunders play - Lawless and loud to-morrow as to-day, - To me they sound more small - Than a young fay's footfall: - Soft and far-sunken, forty fathoms low - In Long Ago, - And winnowed into silence on that wind - Which takes wars like a dust, and leaves but love behind. - - Hither Felicity - Doth climb to me, - And bank me in with turf and marjoram - Such as bees lip, or the new-weanèd lamb; - With golden barberry-wreath, - And bluets thick beneath; - One grosbeak, too, mid apple-buds a guest - With bud-red breast, - Is singing, singing! All the hells that rage - Float less than April fog below our hermitage. - - - - -_Emily Brontë_ - - - WHAT sacramental hurt that brings - The terror of the truth of things - Had changed thee? Secret be it yet. - 'Twas thine, upon a headland set, - To view no isles of man's delight, - With lyric foam in rainbow flight, - But all a-swing, a-gleam, mid slow uproar, - Black sea, and curved uncouth sea-bitten shore. - - - - -_Pascal_ - - - THOU lovedst life, but not to brand it thine - (O rich in all forborne felicities!), - Nor use it with marauding power, to seize - And stain the sweet earth's blue horizon-line. - Virgin the grape might in the trellis twine - Where thou hadst long ago an hour of ease, - And foot of thine across the unpressed leas - Went light as some Idæan foot divine. - - Spirit so abstinent, in thy deeps lay - What passion of possession? Day by day - Was there no thirst upon thee, sharp and pure, - In forward sea-like surges unforgot? - Yes: and in life and death those joys endure - More blessedly, that men can name them not. - - - - -_Borderlands_ - - - THROUGH all the evening, - All the virginal long evening, - Down the blossomed aisle of April it is dread to walk alone; - For there the intangible is nigh, the lost is ever-during; - And who would suffer again beneath a too divine alluring, - Keen as the ancient drift of sleep on dying faces blown? - - Yet in the valley, - At a turn of the orchard alley, - When a wild aroma touched me in the moist and moveless air, - Like breath indeed from out Thee, or as airy vesture round Thee, - Then was it I went faintly, for fear I had nearly found Thee, - O Hidden, O Perfect, O Desired! O first and final Fair! - - - - -_Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore_ - - - THERE in his room, whene'er the moon looks in, - To silver now a shell, and now a fin, - And o'er his chart glide like an argosy, - Quiet and old sits he. - Danger! he hath grown homesick for thy smile. - Where hidest thou the while, heart's boast, - Strange face of beauty sought and lost, - Star-face that lured him out from boyhood's isle? - - Blown clear from dull indoors, his dreams behold - Night-water smoke and sparkle as of old, - The taffrail lurch, the sheets triumphant toss - Their veering weight across. - On, on he wears, the seaman long exiled, - To lands where stunted cedars throw - A lace-like shadow over snow, - Or tropic fountains wash their agates wild. - - Again play up and down the briny spar - Odours of Surinam or Zanzibar, - Till blithely thence he ploughs, in visions new, - The Labradorian blue; - All homeless hurricanes about him break; - The purples of spent day he sees - From Samos to the Hebrides, - And drowned men dancing darkly in his wake. - - Where the small deadly foam-caps, well descried, - Top, tier on tier, the hundred-mountained tide, - Away, and far away, his barque is borne - Riding the noisy morn, - Plunges, and preens her wings, and laughs to know - The helm and tightening halyards still - Follow the urging of his will, - And scoff at sullen earth a league below. - - Alas! Fate bars him from his heirdom high, - And shackles him with many an inland tie, - And of his only wisdom makes a jibe - Amid an alien tribe: - No wave abroad but moans his fallen state. - The trade-wind ranges now, the trade-wind roars! - Why is it on a yellowing page he pores? - Ah, why this hawser fast to a garden gate? - - Thou friend so long withdrawn, so deaf, so dim, - Familiar Danger, Oh, forget not him! - Repeat of thine evangel yet the whole - Unto his subject soul, - Who suffers no such palsy of her drouth, - Nor hath so tamely worn her chain, - But she may know that voice again, - And shake the reefs with answer of her mouth. - - And give him back, before his passion fail, - The singing cordage and the hollow sail, - And level with those ageing eyes let be - The bright unsteady sea; - And like a film remove from sense and brain - This pasture wall, these boughs that run - Their evening arches to the sun, - Yon hamlet spire across the sown champaign; - - And on the shut space and the shallow hour, - Turn the great floods! and to thy spousal bower, - With rapt arrest and solemn loitering, - Him whom thou lovedst, bring: - That he, thy faithful one, with praising lip, - Not having, at the last, less grace - Of thee than had his roving race, - Sum up his strength to perish with a ship. - - - - -OXFORD AND LONDON - -XXVI SONNETS - - - - -OXFORD - - - - -I. _The Tow-Path_ - - - FURROW to furrow, oar to oar succeeds, - Each length away, more bright, more exquisite; - The sister shells that hither, thither, flit - Strew the long stream like scattered maple-seeds. - A comrade on the marge now lags, now leads, - Who with short calls his pace doth intermit: - An angry Pan, afoot; but if he sits, - Auspicious Pan among the river reeds. - - West of the glowing hayricks, tawny black - Where waters by their warm escarpments run, - Two lovers, newly crossed from Kennington, - Print in the early dew a married track, - And drain the aroma'd eve, and spend the sun, - Ere in laborious health the crews come back. - - - - -II. _Ad Antiquarium_ - - - MY gentle Aubrey, who in everything - Hadst of thy city's youth so lovely lust, - Yet never lineal to her towers august - Thy spirit could fix, or perfectly upbring, - Sleep, sleep! I ope, not unremembering, - Thy comely manuscript, and interthrust - Find delicate hueless leaves more sad than dust, - Two centuries unkissed of any Spring. - - Filling a homesick page beneath a lime, - Thy mood beheld, as mine thy debtor's now, - The endless terraces of ended Time - Vague in green twilight. Goodly was release - Into that Past where these poor leaves, and thou, - Do freshen in the air of eldest peace. - - - - -III. _Martyrs' Memorial_ - - - SUCH natural debts of love our Oxford knows, - So many ancient dues undesecrate, - I marvel how the landmark of a hate - For witness unto future time she chose; - How 'gainst her own corroborate ranks arose - The Three, in great denial only great, - For Art's enshrining! Thus, averted straight, - My soul to seek a holier captain goes: - - That sweet adventurer whom Truth befell - Whenas the synagogues were watching not; - Whose crystal name on royal Oriel - Hangs like a shield; who to an outland spot - Led hence, beholds his Star, and counts it well - To live of all his dear domain forgot. - - - - -IV. _Parks Road_ - - - VIEWED yesterday, in sad elusive light, - These everlasting heptarchs, tree by tree, - Seemed filing off to exile, lingeringly, - Each with his giant falchion, kinless quite. - All the wild winter day and flooded night - They feigned to march far as the eye could see, - Through transient oceans plunging to the knee - Their centuried greaves, ebon and malachite. - - To-day, accustomed bole and branch all bare - Stand with old gems inlaid. Like coloured snow - Or vista'd flame along the drowsy air, - Their gold-green lichens stir and cling and glow. - What secret craftsmen painted them so fair? - Angels of Moisture and the Long Ago. - - - - -V. _Tom_ - - - HARK! the king bell, loud in his vesper choir. - As in between each golden roar doth come - That solemn, plangent, unregarded hum - Chiding the truant with archaic ire, - On Worcester mere far off, in elfin gyre - The wavelets laugh, and laughter showereth from - May's chestnut like a lampadarium - By Brasenose, with every point afire. - - Yet over all roofs to the uttermost, - Call, Shepherd dear, from thy dream-haunted ground: - For some there be, on whatsoever coast, - In midst of any morrow's ordered round, - Hear as of old (in earth and heaven an host!) - And like young lambs, leap homeward at the sound. - - - - -VI. _On the Pre-Reformation Churches about Oxford_ - - -I - - IMPERIAL Iffley, Cumnor bowered in green, - And Templar Sandford in the boatman's call, - And sweet-belled Appleton, and Elsfield wall - That dost upon adoring ivies lean; - Meek Binsey; Dorchester, where streams convene - Bidding on graves thy solemn shadow fall; - Clear Cassington, soaring perpetual, - Holton, and Hampton Poyle, and fanes between: - - If one of all in your sad courts that come - Belovèd and disparted! be your own, - Kin to the souls ye had, while yet endures - Some memory of a great communion known - At home in quarries of old Christendom,-- - Ah, mark him: he will lay his cheek to yours. - - -II - - IS this the end? Is this the pilgrim's day - For dread, for dereliction, and for tears? - Rather, from grass and air and many spheres - In prophecy his heart is called away; - And under English eaves, more still than they, - Far-off, incoming, wonderful, he hears - The long-arrested, the believing years - Carry the sea-wall! Shall he, sighing, say: - - "Farewell to Faith, for she is dead at best - Who had such beauty"? or, with spirit fain - To watch beside her darkened doors, go by - With a new psalm: "O banished Light so nigh! - Of them was I, who bore thee and who blest: - Even here remember me when thou shalt reign." - - - - -VII. _A December Walk_ - - - WHITHERSOEVER cold and fair ye flow, - Take me, O gentle moon and gentler wind, - Past Wyatt's cumbering portal, frost-entwined, - And Merton 'neath that huge tiara's glow, - And groves in bridal gossamer below - Saint Mary's armoured spire; and whence aligned - In altered eminence for dawn to find - Sleep the droll Cæsars, hooded with the snow. - - White sacraments of weather, shine on me! - Upbear my footfall and my fancy sift, - Lest either blemish an ensainted ground - Spread so with childhood. Bid with me, outbound, - On recollected wing mine angel drift - Across new spheres of immortality. - - - - -VIII. _The Old Dial of Corpus_ - - - WARDEN of hours and ages, here I dwell, - Who saw young Keble pass, with sighing shook - For good unborn; and towards a willow nook, - Pole, princely in the senate and the cell; - And doubting the near boom of Osney bell, - Turning on me that sweetly subtile look, - Erasmus, in his breast an Attic book: - Peacemakers all, their dreams to ashes fell. - - Naught steadfast may I image nor attain - Save steadfast labour; futile must I grope - After my god, like him, inconstant bright: - But sun and shade will unto you remain - Alternately a symbol and a hope, - Men, spirits! of Emmanuel your Light. - - - - -IX. _Rooks: New College Gardens_ - - - THROUGH rosy cloud and over thorny towers, - Their wings with darkling autumn distance filled, - From Isis' valley border, many-hilled, - The rooks are crowding home as evening lowers: - Not for men only, and their musing hours - By battled walls did gracious Wykeham build - These dewy spaces early sown and stilled, - These dearest inland melancholy bowers. - - Blest birds! A book held open on the knee - Below, is all they guess of Adam's blight: - With surer art the while, and simpler rite, - They gather power in some monastic tree - Where breathe against their docile breasts by night - The scholar's star, the star of sanctity. - - - - -X. _Above Port Meadow_ - - - THE plain gives freedom. Hither from the town - How oft a dreamer and a book of yore - Escaped the lamplit Square, and heard no more - Inroll from Cowley turf the game's renown, - But bade the vernal sky with spices drown - His head by Plato's in the grass, before - Yon oar that's never old, the sunset oar, - At Medley Lock was laid reluctant down! - - So seeming far the confines and the crowd, - The gross routine, the cares that vex and tire, - From this large light, sad thoughts in it, high-driven, - Go happier than the inly-moving cloud - Who lets her vesture fall, a floss of fire, - Abstracted, on the ivory hills of heaven. - - - - -XI. _Undertones at Magdalen_ - - - FAIR are the finer creature-sounds; of these - Is Magdalen full: her bees, the while they drop - Susurrant to the garth from weeds atop; - And round the priestless Pulpit, auguries - Of wrens in council from an hundred leas; - And merry fish of Cherwell, fain to stop - The water-plantain's way; and deer that crop - Delicious herbage under choral trees. - - The cry for silver and gold in Christendom - Without, threads not her silence and her dark. - Only against the isolate Tower there break - Low rhythmic murmurs of good men to come: - Invasive seas of hushed approach that make - Memorial music, would the ear but hark. - - - - -XII. _A Last View_ - - -I - - WHERE down the hill, across the hidden ford - Stretches the open aisle from scene to scene, - By halted horses silently we lean, - Gazing enchanted from our steeper sward. - How yon low loving skies of April hoard - A plot of pinnacles! and how with sheen - Of spike and ball her languid clouds between - Grey Oxford grandly rises riverward! - - Sweet on those dim long-dedicated walls - Silver as rain the frugal sunshine falls; - Slowly sad eyes resign them, bound afar. - Dear Beauty, dear Tradition, fare you well, - And powers that aye aglow in you, impel - Our quickening spirits from the slime we are. - - -II - - STARS in the bosom of thy braided tide, - Soft air and ivy on thy gracile stone, - O Glory of the West, as thou wert sown, - Stand perfect: O miraculous, abide! - And still, for greatness flickering from thy side, - Eternal alchemist, evoke, enthrone - True heirs in true succession, later blown - From that same seed of fire which never died. - - Nor Love shall lack her solace, to behold - Ranged to the morrow's melancholy verge, - Thy lights uprisen in Thought's disclosing spaces; - And round some beacon-spirit, stable, old, - In radiant broad tumultuary surge - For ever, the young voices, the young faces. - - - - -LONDON - - - - -I. _On First Entering Westminster Abbey_ - - - HOLY of England! since my light is short - And faint, Oh, rather by the sun anew - Of timeless passion set my dial true, - That with thy saints and thee I may consort; - And wafted in the cool enshadowed port - Of poets, seem a little sail long due, - And be as one the call of memory drew - Unto the saddle void since Agincourt. - - Not now for secular love's unquiet lease - Receive my soul, who rapt in thee erewhile - Hath broken tryst with transitory things; - But seal with her a marriage and a peace - Eternal, on thine Edward's altar isle, - Above the storm-spent sea of ended Kings. - - - - -II. _Fog_ - - - LIKE bodiless water passing in a sigh, - Through palsied streets the fatal shadows flow, - And in their sharp disastrous undertow - Suck in the morning sun, and all the sky. - The towery vista sinks upon the eye, - As if it heard the horns of Jericho, - Black and dissolved; nor could the founder, know - How what was built so bright should daily die. - - Thy mood with man's is broken and blent in, - City of Stains! and ache of thought doth drown - The natural light in which thy life began; - Great as thy dole is, smirchèd with his sin, - Greater and elder yet the love of man - Full in thy look, though the dark visor's down. - - - - -III. _St. Peter-ad-Vincula_ - - - TOO well I know, pacing the place of awe, - Three Queens, young save in trouble, moulder by; - More in his halo, Monmouth's mocking eye, - The eagle Essex in a harpy's claw; - Seymour and Dudley, and stout heads that saw - Sundown of Scotland; how with treasons lie - White martyrdoms: rank in a company - Breaker and builder of the eternal Law. - - Oft as I come, the piteous garden-row - Of ruined roses hanging from the stem, - Where winds of old defeat yet batter them, - Infects me: suddenly must I depart, - Ere thought of man's injustice then and now - Add to these aisles one other broken heart. - - - - -IV. _Strikers in Hyde Park_ - - - A WOOF reversed the fatal shuttles weave, - How slow! but never once they slip the thread. - Hither, upon the Georgian idlers' tread, - Up spacious ways the lindens interleave, - Clouding the royal air since yester-eve, - Come men bereft of time and scant of bread, - Loud, who were dumb, immortal, who were dead, - Through the cowed world their kingdom to retrieve. - - What ails thee, England? Altar, mart, and grange - Dream of the knife by night; not so, not so - The clear Republic waits the general throe, - Along her noonday mountains' open range. - God be with both! for one is young to know - The other's rote of evil and of change. - - - - -V. _Changes in the Temple_ - - - THE cry is at thy gates, long-lovèd ground, - Again: for oft ere now thy children went - Beggared and wroth, and parting greeting sent - Some old red alley with a dial crowned; - Some house of honour, in a glory bound - With lives and deaths of spirits excellent; - Some tree rude-taken from his kingly tent - Hard by a little fountain's friendly sound. - - Oh, for Virginius' hand, if only that - Maintain the whole, and spoil these spoilings soon! - Better the scowling Strand should lose, alas, - Her walled oasis, and where once it was - All mournful in the cleared quadrangle sat - Echo and ivy, and the loitering moon. - - - - -VI. _The Lights of London_ - - - THE evenfall, so slow on hills, hath shot - Far down into the valley's cold extreme, - Untimely midnight; spire and roof and stream - Like fleeing spectres, shudder and are not. - The Hampstead hollies, from their sylvan plot - Yet cloudless, lean to watch as in a dream, - From chaos climb with many a hasty gleam, - London, one moment fallen and forgot. - - Her booths begin to flare; and gases bright - Prick door and window; every street obscure - Sparkles and swarms with nothing true nor sure, - Full as a marsh of mist and winking light: - Heaven thickens over, Heaven that cannot cure - Her tear by day, her fevered smile by night. - - - - -VII. _Doves_ - - - AH, if man's boast and man's advance be vain, - And yonder bells of Bow, loud-echoing home, - And the lone Tree, foreknow it, and the Dome, - That monstrous island of the middle main; - If each inheritor must sink again - Under his sires, as falleth where it clomb - Back on the gone wave the disheartened foam?-- - I crossed Cheapside, and this was in my brain. - - What folly lies in forecasts and in fears! - Like a wide laughter sweet and opportune, - Wet from the fount, three hundred doves of Paul's - Shook their warm wings, drizzling the golden noon, - And in their rain-cloud vanished up the walls. - "God keeps," I said, "our little flock of years." - - - - -VIII. _In the Reading-Room of the British Museum_ - - - PRAISED be the moon of books! that doth above - A world of men, the sunken Past behold, - And colour spaces else too void and cold - To make a very heaven again thereof; - As when the sun is set behind a grove, - And faintly unto nether ether rolled, - All night his whiter image and his mould - Grows beautiful with looking on her love. - - Thou, therefore, moon of so divine a ray, - Lend to our steps both fortitude and light! - Feebly along a venerable way - They climb the infinite, or perish quite: - Nothing are days and deeds to such as they, - While in this liberal house thy face is bright. - - - - -IX. _Sunday Chimes in the City_ - - - ACROSS the bridge, where in the morning blow - The wrinkled tide turns homeward, and is fain - Homeward to drag the black sea-goer's chain, - And the long yards by Dowgate dipping low; - Across dispeopled ways, patient and slow, - Saint Magnus and Saint Dunstan call in vain: - From Wren's forgotten belfries, in the rain, - Down the blank wharves the dropping octaves go. - - Forbid not these! Though no man heed, they shower - A subtle beauty on the empty hour, - From all their dark throats aching and outblown; - Aye in the prayerless places welcome most, - Like the last gull that up some naked coast - Deploys her white and steady wing, alone. - - - - -X. _A Porch in Belgravia_ - - - WHEN, after dawn, the lordly houses hide - Till you fall foul of it, some piteous guest - (Some girl the damp stones gather to their breast, - Her gold hair rough, her rebel garment wide, - Who sleeps, with all that luck and life denied - Camped round, and dreams how, seaward and southwest, - Blue over Devon farms the smoke-rings rest, - And sheep and lambs ascend the lit hillside), - - Dear, of your charity, speak low, step soft, - Pray for a sinner. Planet-like and still, - Best hearts of all are sometimes set aloft - Only to see and pass, nor yet deplore - Even Wrong itself, crowned Wrong inscrutable, - Which cannot but have been, for evermore. - - - - -XI. _York Stairs_ - - - MANY a musing eye returns to thee, - Against the formal street disconsolate, - Who kept in green domains thy bridal state, - With young tide-waters leaping at thy knee; - And lest the ravening smoke, and enmity, - Corrode thee quite, thy lover sighs, and straight - Desires thee safe afar, too graceful gate; - Throned on a terrace of the Boboli. - - Nay, nay, thy use is here. Stand queenly thus - Till the next fury; teach the time and us - Leisure and will to draw a serious breath: - Not wholly where thou art the soul is cowed, - Nor the fooled capital proclaims aloud - Barter is god, while Beauty perisheth. - - - - -XII. _In the Docks_ - - - WHERE the bales thunder till the day is done, - And the wild sounds with wilder odours cope; - Where over crouching sail and coiling rope, - Lascar and Moor along the gangway run; - Where stifled Thames spreads in the pallid sun, - A hive of anarchy from slope to slope; - Flag of my birth, my liberty, my hope, - I see thee at the masthead, joyous one! - - O thou good guest! So oft as, young and warm, - To the home-wind thy hoisted colours bound, - Away, away from this too thoughtful ground, - Sodden with human trespass and despair, - Thee only, from the desert, from the storm, - A sick mind follows into Eden air. - - - - -NOTES - - -_The Kings_: P. 3. - - II Kings, VI, 15, 16, 17. - -_His Angel to his Mother_: P. 21. - - One line of the refrain is taken from an old love song, - "Sweet, if you Love me, Let me Go," set to a charming - melody in D major, and to be found in Chappell's Popular - Music of the Olden Time. - -_Beside Hazlitt's Grave_: P. 47. - - St. Anne's, Soho, boasts the "sorry steeple," one of - London's architectural absurdities. Hazlitt's grave is - grassed over and unmarked, but the epitaph which has now - for some years stood in place of the interesting original - one, may be read on the headstone set against the outer - west wall of the church. - -_The Vigil-at-Arms_: P. 48. - - Suggested by the very simple but soldierly melody in - Mendelssohn's Lied ohne Worte in A, Book I, Opus 19, No. 4, - the last two lines coming in for repetitions. - -_A Friend's Song for Simoisius_: P. 49. - - Having to do with Iliad IV, 473-489. - -_The Inner Fate_: P. 64. - - It is perhaps too daring to force into Greek forms any - sentiment so dead against the Greek spirit of determinism. - -_The Acknowledgment_: P. 66. - - "The Prætor." Brutus in Shakespeare, if not the historical - Brutus. - -_The Cherry Bough_: P. 70. - - "Si quis adhuc isthic meminit Nasonis adempti, - Et superest sine me nomen in urbe meum." - _Tristia_, Lib. III, El. X. - - "Atque aliquis vestrum, Nasonis nomine dicto, - Deponat lacrymis pocula mista suis." - _Idem_, Lib. V, El. IV. - -_A Talisman_: P. 87. - - Many years after these lines were in print, it was pointed - out to the author by a friend, a student of St. Bernard, - how they have managed to echo in part a saying of that - great Doctor, in his _De Consideratione_, Lib. I, Cap. - VIII, Sec. 9: - - "Prudentia item est quae inter voluptates et necessitates - media, quasi quaedam arbitra sedens ... disterminat fines - ... ex alterutris tertiam formans virtutem quam dicunt - Temperantiam." - -_Fifteen Epitaphs_: P. 91. - - It may be well to state (as these have often been taken for - translations), that they are only pseudo-Alexandrian. - -_A Footpath Morality_: P. 121. - - A sort of floral log-book of a walk from Oxford to Appleton - in Berkshire, May, 1908. - - -OXFORD - -_Ad Antiquarium_: P. 146. - - This is Wood's disinterested helper, John Aubrey, F.R.S., - 1626-1697. Never was a truer lover of what he calls "that - most ingeniose Place!" - -_Martyrs' Memorial_: P. 147. - - The only monument in the streets of Oxford was put up by - the local Low Church party in 1841, not really so much to - commemorate Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, all Cambridge - men, as to register a protest against Hurrell Froude (then - dead), Newman, and Keble, who all showed frank disrespect - to the heroes of the Reformation in England. The reference - in the sestet is of course to Cardinal Newman, and was - written barely a month before his rather sudden death on - August 11, 1890. - -_Tom_: P. 149. - - The College is a century and a half older than the upper - part of its chief entrance gate, and the once monastic bell - is much older than either. "The Tom Tower [was] finished - in November, 1682. In this was hung the bell called Great - Tom of Christ Church, which had originally belonged to - Osney Abbey.... From that time to this, it has rung its one - hundred and one strokes every night at nine, as a signal - that all students should be within their College walls. It - need hardly be said that the signal is not obeyed!" - - J. WELLS, M.A., 1901. _Oxford and its Colleges_: - Christ Church, pp. 205-206. - -_The Old Dial of Corpus_: P. 153. - - The great Dial in the quadrangle of Corpus Christi - College was not put up until 1605,--too late to have been - contemporary with either Erasmus or Pole. The author - discovered the error several years ago, but has never known - how to correct it except by this caution. "Osney Bell" - is Great Tom (see just above): Christ Church being next - neighbour to Corpus; but Tom may or may not have been in - place and condition to ring for curfew in the second year - of Queen Elizabeth's reign. The closing line is meant to - refer to the motto of the University, _Dominus illuminatio - mea_, taken from the opening of Psalm XXVII. - -_Undertones at Magdalen_: P. 156. - - "The priestless Pulpit" was an accurate description when - this sonnet was written (1895), though it is so no longer. - From the open-air Pulpit of Magdalen, disused since the - Reformation, a Sermon is once again delivered annually on - St. John Baptist's Day. - - -LONDON - -_St. Peter-ad-Vincula_: P. 161. - - St. Peter-ad-Vincula is the ancient and sadly appropriate - dedication of the Church near the Beauchamp Tower and the - site of the scaffold. The vaults are under the chancel. - -_York Stairs_: P. 169. - - Inigo Jones' Water Gate, standing on the Embankment at - the foot of Villiers Street, Strand, now a long way - from the river, is still called York Stairs. It is the - sole surviving appanage of the great town-house of the - seventeenth-century Dukes of Buckingham. - - - - - The Riverside Press - CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS - U . S . A - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Happy Ending, by Louise Imogen Guiney - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY ENDING *** - -***** This file should be named 54719-8.txt or 54719-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/1/54719/ - -Produced by Emmy, Linda Cantoni, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive). 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Happy Ending - The Collected Lyrics of Louise Imogen Guiney - -Author: Louise Imogen Guiney - -Release Date: May 14, 2017 [EBook #54719] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY ENDING *** - - - - -Produced by Emmy, Linda Cantoni, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive). This project is dedicated with love to -Emmy's memory. - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - - -<h1>HAPPY ENDING</h1> - -<p class="center"><b><a href="#CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></b></p> - -<p class="illo"> -<img src="images/front.jpg" width="514" height="800" alt="frontispiece" title="frontispiece" /><br /> -<span class="caption"><i>G.F. Watts, pinx.</i><span style="margin-left: 25em"><i>Hollyer, Photo.</i></span></span> -</p> - -<div class="break-before"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="poem"> -<tr> -<td> -<i>Rower maul'd in the Sea, ah, Rower<br /> -Limp as Grasses behind the Mower.<br /> -Pity'd most that thy Woes deny thee<br /> -Sight of the Spirit Steersman by thee!</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>Tho' more near than a hinted Haven<br /> -Lie the Port that is coral-paven,<br /> -All is well: the Unseen Befriending<br /> -Makes of either the Happy Ending.</i></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> -<p class="illo"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="593" height="800" alt="title page" title="title page" /> -</p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<h1><span style="color: #C70039">HAPPY ENDING</span></h1> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="mlg"><b><i>The Collected Lyrics of</i></b></span><br /> -<span class="mlg"><b><span class="smcap">Louise Imogen Guiney</span></b></span> -</p> - -<hr class="redmed" /> - -<p class="center sm">TOUT BIEN OU RIEN</p> - -<hr class="redmed" /> - -<p class="center"> -HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> -BOSTON AND NEW YORK: 1909<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="redmed" /> - -<p class="center sm bp"> -COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY<br /> -<br /> -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> -<br /> -<i>Published December 1909</i></p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> -<p class="center">TO<br /> -<span class="mlg">ANNE WHITNEY</span> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span> volume has been garnered from the author's earlier -books. Two poems have been chosen from "The White Sail" (1887); -nine Oxford Sonnets from a privately printed booklet (1895), since -added to, and much altered; and many lyrics, under a revised form, -from "A Roadside Harp" (1893), and "The Martyrs' Idyl" (1899), plus -some twenty newer titles transferred, with grateful acknowledgments, -from <i>McClure's Magazine</i>, <i>The Atlantic</i>, <i>Harper's</i>, <i>Scribner's</i>, -and <i>The Century</i>. The principle of exclusion goes far enough to -cover all poems in narrative form, or of any appreciable length, or -translated; also, any which seemed out of keeping with the character -of the present collection. Such as that is, it comprises the less -faulty half of all the author's published verse.</p> - -<p class="right">L.I.G.</p> - -<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Boston</span>, October 21, 1909.</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">-ix-</a></span></p> -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2> - - -<table style="width: 80%" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Kings">The Kings</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Squall">The Squall</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Open_Time">Open, Time</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Knight_Errant">The Knight Errant</a></i> (<i>Donatello's Saint George</i>)</td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#To_a_Dogs_Memory">To a Dog's Memory</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Memorial_Day">Memorial Day</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Romans_in_Dorset">Romans in Dorset</a>: <span class="smcap">A.D. MDCCCXCV</span></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Horologion">Horologion</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_19'>19</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#His_Angel_to_his_Mother">His Angel to his Mother</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_21'>21</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Autumn_Magic">Autumn Magic</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Five_Carols_for_Christmastide">Five Carols for Christmastide</a></i>:</td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#I_The_Ox_he_openeth">I. The Ox he Openeth wide the Doore</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_25'>25</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#Vines_branching">II. Vines Branching Stilly</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#Three_without_slumber">III. Three without Slumber Ride from Afar</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#Was_a_Soule">IV. Was a Soule from Farre Away</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_28'>28</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#The_Ox_and_the_Ass">V. The Ox and the Ass</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#On_Leaving_Winchester">On Leaving Winchester</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_32'>32</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">-x-</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Cobwebs">Cobwebs</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_34'>34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Astraea">Astræa</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Yew-Tree">The Yew-Tree</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_36'>36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Ten_Colloquies">Ten Colloquies</a></i>:</td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#I_THE_SEARCH">I. The Search</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_38'>38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#II_FACT_AND_THE_MYSTIC">II. Fact and the Mystic</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_39'>39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#III_THE_POETS_CHART">III. The Poet's Chart</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_40'>40</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#IV_OF_THE_GOLDEN_AGE">IV. Of the Golden Age</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_41'>41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#V_ON_TIMES_THRESHOLD">V. On Time's Threshold</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_42'>42</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#VI_WOOD-PIGEONS">VI. Wood-<span class="err" title="original erroneously has Wood-Doves">Pigeons</span></a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_42'>42</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#VII_PREDICAMENTS">VII. Predicaments</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#VIII_THE_CO-ETERNAL">VIII. The Co-Eternal</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_44'>44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#IX_STERN_APHRODITE">IX. Stern Aphrodite</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_44'>44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#X_THE_JUBILEE">X. The Jubilee</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Winter_Boughs">Winter Boughs</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#WH">W.H.</a>: <span class="smcap">A.D. MDCCLXXVIII-MDCCCXXX</span></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Vigil-at-Arms">The Vigil-at-Arms</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_48'>48</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Friends_Song_for_Simoisius">A Friend's Song for Simoisius</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_49'>49</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#To_an_Ideal">To an Ideal</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#In_a_Ruin_after_a_Thunder_Storm">In a Ruin, after a Thunder-Storm</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_53'>53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Beati_Mortui"><span lang="la">Beati Mortui</span></a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_54'>54</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">-xi-</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Two_Irish_Peasant_Songs">Two Irish Peasant Songs</a></i>:</td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#I_IN_LEINSTER">I. In Leinster</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#II_IN_ULSTER">II. In Ulster</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Japanese_Anemone">The Japanese Anemone</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Orisons">Orisons</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Inner_Fate_a_Chorus">The Inner Fate: A Chorus</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Acknowledgment">The Acknowledgment</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#By_the_Trundle-bed">By the Trundle-Bed</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_67'>67</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Arboricide">Arboricide</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Cherry_Bough">The Cherry Bough</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_70'>70</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Wild_Ride">The Wild Ride</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Bedesfolk">Bedesfolk</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_75'>75</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#In_a_City_Street">In a City Street</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_77'>77</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Florentin">Florentin</a>: <span class="smcap">A.D. MDCCCXC</span></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Song_of_the_Lilac">A Song of the Lilac</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_80'>80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Monochrome">Monochrome</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Saint_Francis_Endeth_his_Sermon">Saint Francis Endeth his Sermon</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_82'>82</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#An_Estray">An Estray</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Friendship_Broken">Friendship Broken</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Talisman">A Talisman</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Heathenesse">Heathenesse</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_88'>88</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">-xii-</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#For_Izaak_Walton">For Izaak Walton</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Fifteen_Epitaphs">Fifteen Epitaphs</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_91'>91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Deo_Optimo_Maximo"><span lang="la">Deo Optimo Maximo</span></a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_98'>98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Charista_Musing">Charista Musing</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Still_of_the_Year">The Still of the Year</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_100'>100</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Footnote_to_a_Famous_Lyric">A Footnote to a Famous Lyric</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#TWP">T.W.P.</a>: <span class="smcap">A.D. MDCCCXIX-MDCCCXCII</span></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Summum_Bonum">Summum Bonum</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#When_on_the_Marge_of_Evening">When on the Marge of Evening</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_106'>106</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Hylas">Hylas</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Nocturne">Nocturne</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#To_Henry_Howard_Earl_of_Surrey">To Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_110'>110</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Planting_the_Poplar">Planting the Poplar</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_111'>111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#To_One_who_would_not_Spare_Himself">To One Who would not Spare Himself</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Winter_Peace">Winter Peace</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Sleep">Sleep</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_116'>116</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Writ_in_my_Lord_Clarendons_History_of_the_Rebellion">Writ in my Lord Clarendon's History of the Rebellion</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_117'>117</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#In_a_February_Garden">In a February Garden</a></i> (<i>Somerset, England</i>)</td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_118'>118</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Valediction">A Valediction.</a></i> (<i>R.L.S.: <span class="smcap">A.D. MDCCCXCIV</span></i>)</td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_120'>120</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Footpath_Morality">A Footpath Morality</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_121'>121</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">-xiii-</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Light_of_the_House">The Light of the House</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_123'>123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#An_Outdoor_Litany">An Outdoor Litany</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Of_Joans_Youth">Of Joan's Youth</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#In_a_Brecon_Valley">In a Brecon Valley</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_128'>128</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#A_Song_of_Far_Travel">A Song of Far Travel</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Spring">Spring</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#The_Colour-Bearer">The Colour-Bearer</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_132'>132</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Sanctuary">Sanctuary</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_134'>134</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Emily_Bronte">Emily Brontë</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Pascal">Pascal</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_136'>136</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Borderlands">Borderlands</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_137'>137</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#Ode_for_a_Master_Mariner_Ashore">Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#OXFORD_AND_LONDON">Oxford and London: XXVI Sonnets</a></i></td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#OXFORD">Oxford</a></i>:</td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#I_The_Tow-Path">I. The Tow-Path</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_145'>145</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#II_Ad_Antiquarium">II. Ad Antiquarium</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_146'>146</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#III_Martyrs_Memorial">III. Martyrs' Memorial</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#IV_Parks_Road">IV. Parks Road</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#V_Tom">V. Tom</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_149'>149</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#VI_On_the_Pre-Reformation_Churches_about_Oxford">VI, VIa. On the Pre-Reformation Churches about Oxford</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_150'>150</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">-xiv-</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#VII_A_December_Walk">VII. A December Walk</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_152'>152</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#VIII_The_Old_Dial_of_Corpus">VIII. The Old Dial of Corpus</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_153'>153</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#IX_Rooks_New_College_Gardens">IX. Rooks: New College Gardens</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#X_Above_Port_Meadow">X. Above Port Meadow</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#XI_Undertones_at_Magdalen">XI. Undertones at Magdalen</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_156'>156</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#XII_A_Last_View">XII, XIIa. A Last View</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent"><i><a href="#LONDON">London</a></i>:</td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#I_On_First_Entering_Westminster_Abbey">I. On First Entering Westminster Abbey</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#II_Fog">II. Fog</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#III_St_Peter-ad-Vincula">III. St. Peter-ad-Vincula</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#IV_Strikers_in_Hyde_Park">IV. Strikers in Hyde Park</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#V_Changes_in_the_Temple">V. Changes in the Temple</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#VI_The_Lights_of_London">VI. The Lights of London</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_164'>164</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#VII_Doves">VII. Doves</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_165'>165</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#VIII_In_the_Reading-Room_of_the_British_Museum">VIII. In the Reading-Room of the British Museum</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_166'>166</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#IX_Sunday_Chimes_in_the_City">IX. Sunday Chimes in the City</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#X_A_Porch_in_Belgravia">X. A Porch in Belgravia</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_168'>168</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#XI_York_Stairs">XI. York Stairs</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="indent2"><i><a href="#XII_In_the_Docks">XII. In the Docks</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#Page_170'>170</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i><a href="#NOTES">Notes</a></i></td><td class="right"><a href='#NOTES'>171</a></td></tr> -</table> - - - -<hr /> -<div class="break-before"> -<h1>HAPPY ENDING</h1> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">-3-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Kings" id="The_Kings"><i>The Kings</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">A man</span> said unto his Angel:<br /> -"My spirits are fallen low,<br /> -And I cannot carry this battle:<br /> -O brother! where might I go?<br /> -<br /> -"The terrible Kings are on me<br /> -With spears that are deadly bright;<br /> -Against me so from the cradle<br /> -Do fate and my fathers fight."<br /> -<br /> -Then said to the man his Angel:<br /> -"Thou wavering witless soul,<br /> -Back to the ranks! What matter<br /> -To win or to lose the whole,<br /> -<br /> -"As judged by the little judges<br /> -Who hearken not well, nor see?<br /> -Not thus, by the outer issue,<br /> -The Wise shall interpret thee.<br /> -<br /> -"Thy will is the sovereign measure<br /> -And only event of things:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">-4-</a></span><br /> -The puniest heart, defying,<br /> -Were stronger than all these Kings.<br /> -<br /> -"Though out of the past they gather,<br /> -Mind's Doubt, and Bodily Pain,<br /> -And pallid Thirst of the Spirit<br /> -That is kin to the other twain,<br /> -<br /> -"And Grief, in a cloud of banners,<br /> -And ringletted Vain Desires,<br /> -And Vice, with the spoils upon him<br /> -Of thee and thy beaten sires,—<br /> -<br /> -"While Kings of eternal evil<br /> -Yet darken the hills about,<br /> -Thy part is with broken sabre<br /> -To rise on the last redoubt;<br /> -<br /> -"To fear not sensible failure,<br /> -Nor covet the game at all,<br /> -But fighting, fighting, fighting,<br /> -Die, driven against the wall."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">-5-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Squall" id="The_Squall"><i>The Squall</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">While</span> all was glad,<br /> -It seemed our birch-tree had,<br /> -That August hour, intelligence of death;<br /> -For warningly against the eaves she beat<br /> -Her body old, lamenting, prophesying,<br /> -And the hot breath<br /> -Of ferny hollows nestled at her feet<br /> -Spread out in startled sighing.<br /> -<br /> -Across an argent sea,<br /> -Distinct unto the farthest reef and isle,<br /> -The clouds began to be.<br /> -Huge forms 'neath sombre draperies, awhile<br /> -Made slow uncertain rally;<br /> -But as their ranks conjoined, and from the north<br /> -The leader shook his lance, Oh, then how fair<br /> -Unvested, they stood forth,<br /> -In diverse armour, plumed majestically,<br /> -Each with his own esquires, a King in air!<br /> -<br /> -Up moved the dark vanguard,<br /> -With insolent colours that o'erdusked the skies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">-6-</a></span><br /> -And trailed from beach to beach:<br /> -Massed orange and mould-green; vermilion barred<br /> -On bronze or mottled silver; saffron dyes<br /> -And purples migratory<br /> -Fanned each in each,<br /> -As the long column broke, athirst for glory.<br /> -<br /> -Sudden, the thunder!<br /> -Upon the roofed verandas how it rolled,<br /> -Twice, thrice: a thud and flame of doom that told<br /> -New-fallen, nor far away,<br /> -Some black destruction on the innocent day.<br /> -And little Everard<br /> -Deep in the hammock under, eyes alight<br /> -With healthful fear and wonder<br /> -The brave do ne'er unlearn,<br /> -Clenched his soft hand, and breathing hard,<br /> -Smiled there against his father, like a knight<br /> -Baptized on Cressy field or Bannockburn.<br /> -<br /> -A moment gone,<br /> -Into our paradise from Acheron,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">-7-</a></span><br /> -With imperceptive sorcery crawled ashore<br /> -Odours unnamable: an exhalation<br /> -Of men and ships in oozy graves. (Ah, cease,<br /> -Derisive nereids! cease:<br /> -Be it enough, that even ye can pour,<br /> -From crystal flagons of your ancient peace,<br /> -So strange obscene libation.)<br /> -But with the thunder-peal<br /> -Sprang the pure winds, their thurible swung wide,<br /> -To chase that tainted tide;<br /> -Fresh from the pastures and the cedar-grove,<br /> -They rode the copper ridges of the main,<br /> -And bared a league of distance to reveal<br /> -A sail, aslant, astrain,<br /> -Impetuous for the cove;<br /> -And tossing after, panic-stricken,<br /> -Another, and a third: white spirits, fain to sicken,<br /> -Nor out of natural harm salvation gain.<br /> -<br /> -The selfsame hunter winds that drave<br /> -The horror down, as faithful-hearted drew<br /> -The sad clouds from their carnage, and up-piled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">-8-</a></span><br /> -Their rebel gonfalons, or jocund threw<br /> -Their cannon in the wave;<br /> -And subtly, with a parting whisper, gave<br /> -An eve most mild:<br /> -A sunset like a prayer, a world all rose and blue:<br /> -<br /> -A good world, as it was,<br /> -And as it shall be: clear circumferent space,<br /> -Where punctual yet, for worship of their Cause,<br /> -The stars came thick in choir.<br /> -Sleep had our Everard in her cool embrace,<br /> -Else from his cot he hardly need have stooped<br /> -To see (and laugh to see!) the headland pine<br /> -Embossed on changing fire:<br /> -For close behind it, cooped<br /> -Within a smallest span,<br /> -In fury, to and fro and round and round,<br /> -The routed leopards of the lightning ran:<br /> -Bright, bright, inside their dungeon-bars, malign<br /> -They ran; and ran till dawn, without a sound.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">-9-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Open_Time" id="Open_Time"><i>Open, Time</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Open</span>, Time, and let him pass<br /> -Shortly where his feet would be!<br /> -Like a leaf at Michaelmas<br /> -Swooning from the tree,<br /> -<br /> -Ere its hour the manly mind<br /> -Trembles in a sure decrease,<br /> -Nor the body now can find<br /> -Any hold on peace.<br /> -<br /> -Take him, weak and overworn;<br /> -Fold about his dying dream<br /> -Boyhood, and the April morn,<br /> -And the rolling stream:<br /> -<br /> -Weather on a sunny ridge,<br /> -Showery weather, far from here;<br /> -Under some deep-ivied bridge,<br /> -Water rushing clear:<br /> -<br /> -Water quick to cross and part<br /> -(Golden light on silver sound),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">-10-</a></span><br /> -Weather that was next his heart<br /> -All the world around!<br /> -<br /> -Soon upon his vision break<br /> -These, in their remembered blue;<br /> -He shall toil no more, but wake<br /> -Young, in air he knew.<br /> -<br /> -He hath done with roofs and men.<br /> -Open, Time, and let him pass,<br /> -Vague and innocent again,<br /> -Into country grass.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">-11-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Knight_Errant" id="The_Knight_Errant"><i>The Knight Errant</i></a></h2> - -<p class="lg">(<i>Donatello’s Saint George</i>)</p> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Spirits</span> of old that bore me,<br /> -And set me, meek of mind,<br /> -Between great dreams before me,<br /> -And deeds as great behind,<br /> -Knowing humanity my star<br /> -As first abroad I ride,<br /> -Shall help me wear with every scar<br /> -Honour at eventide.<br /> -<br /> -Let claws of lightning clutch me<br /> -From summer's groaning cloud,<br /> -Or ever malice touch me,<br /> -And glory make me proud.<br /> -Oh, give my youth, my faith, my sword,<br /> -Choice of the heart's desire:<br /> -A short life in the saddle, Lord!<br /> -Not long life by the fire.<br /> -<br /> -Forethought and recollection<br /> -Rivet mine armour gay!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">-12-</a></span><br /> -The passion for perfection<br /> -Redeem my failing way!<br /> -The arrows of the upper slope<br /> -From sudden ambush cast,<br /> -Rain quick and true, with one to ope<br /> -My Paradise at last!<br /> -<br /> -I fear no breathing bowman,<br /> -But only, east and west,<br /> -The awful other foeman<br /> -Impowered in my breast.<br /> -The outer fray in the sun shall be,<br /> -The inner beneath the moon;<br /> -And may Our Lady lend to me<br /> -Sight of the Dragon soon!<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">-13-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="To_a_Dogs_Memory" id="To_a_Dogs_Memory"><i>To a Dog’s Memory</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> gusty morns are here,<br /> -When all the reeds ride low with level spear;<br /> -And on such nights as lured us far of yore,<br /> -Down rocky alleys yet, and through the pine,<br /> -The Hound-star and the pagan Hunter shine:<br /> -But I and thou, ah, field-fellow of mine,<br /> -Together roam no more.<br /> -<br /> -Soft showers go laden now<br /> -With odours of the sappy orchard-bough,<br /> -And brooks begin to brawl along the march;<br /> -Steams the late frost from hollow sedges high;<br /> -The finch is come, the flame-blue dragonfly,<br /> -The marsh-born marigold that children spy,<br /> -The plume upon the larch.<br /> -<br /> -There is a music fills<br /> -The oaks of Belmont and the Wayland hills<br /> -Southward to Dewing's little bubbly stream,—<br /> -The heavenly weather's call! Oh, who alive<br /> -Hastes not to start, delays not to arrive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">-14-</a></span><br /> -Having free feet that never felt a gyve<br /> -Weigh, even in a dream?<br /> -<br /> -But thou, instead, hast found<br /> -The sunless April uplands underground,<br /> -And still, wherever thou art, I must be.<br /> -My beautiful! arise in might and mirth,<br /> -(For we were tameless travellers from our birth);<br /> -Arise against thy narrow door of earth,<br /> -And keep the watch for me.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">-15-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Memorial_Day" id="Memorial_Day"><i>Memorial Day</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">O day</span> of roses and regret,<br /> -Kissing the old graves of our own!<br /> -Not to the slain love's lovely debt<br /> -Alone.<br /> -<br /> -But jealous hearts that live and ache,<br /> -Remember; and while drums are mute,<br /> -Beneath your banners' bright outbreak,<br /> -Salute:<br /> -<br /> -And say for us to lessening ranks<br /> -That keep the memory and the pride,<br /> -On whose thinned hair our tears and thanks<br /> -Abide,<br /> -<br /> -Who from their saved Republic pass,<br /> -Glad with the Prince of Peace to dwell:<br /> -<i>Hail, dearest few! and soon, alas,<br /> -Farewell</i>.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">-16-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Romans_in_Dorset" id="Romans_in_Dorset"><i>Romans in Dorset</i></a></h2> - -<p class="lg"><i>A.D. MDCCCXCV</i></p> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">A stupor</span> on the heath,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And wrath along the sky;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Space everywhere; beneath</span><br /> -A flat and treeless wold for us, and darkest noon on high.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sullen quiet below,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But storm in upper air!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A wind from long ago,</span><br /> -In mouldy chambers of the cloud had ripped an arras there,<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And singed the triple gloom,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And let through, in a flame,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Crowned faces of old Rome:</span><br /> -Regnant o'er Rome's abandoned ground, processional they came.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Uprisen as any sun</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Through vistas hollow grey,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Aloft, and one by one,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">-17-</a></span><br /> -In brazen casques the Emperors loomed large, and sank away.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In ovals of wan light</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Each warrior eye and mouth:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A pageant brutal bright</span><br /> -As if once over loudly passed Jove's laughter in the south;<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And dimmer, these among,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Some cameo'd head aloof,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With ringlets heavy-hung,</span><br /> -Like yellow stonecrop comely grown around a castle roof.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An instant: gusts again,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then heaven's impacted wall,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The hot insistent rain,</span><br /> -The thunder-shock; and of the Past mirage no more at all,<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">No more the alien dream</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Pursuing, as we went,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With glory's cursèd gleam:</span><br /> -Nor sin of Cæsar's ruined line engulfed us, innocent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">-18-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The vision great and dread</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Corroded; sole in view</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Was empty Egdon spread,</span><br /> -Her crimson summer weeds ashake in tempest: but we knew<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">What Tacitus had borne</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In that wrecked world we saw;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And what, thine heart uptorn,</span><br /> -My Juvenal! distraught with love of violated Law.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">-19-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Horologion" id="Horologion"><i>Horologion</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> frost may form apace,<br /> -The roses pine away:<br /> -Nomæa! if I see thy face,<br /> -Then is the summer day.<br /> -<br /> -A word of thine, a breath,<br /> -And lo! my joy shall seem<br /> -To peer far down where life and death<br /> -Stir like a forded stream;<br /> -<br /> -Or else shall misery sound<br /> -And travel in that hour<br /> -All utmost things in their shut round,<br /> -As a bee feels his flower.<br /> -<br /> -Thought lags and cries Alas,<br /> -Love ranges quick and free.<br /> -Oh, figured clock and sanded glass,<br /> -They mark no term for me.<br /> -<br /> -And since I can but rue<br /> -The calendar gone wrong,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">-20-</a></span><br /> -And dials never telling true<br /> -If dreams be short or long,<br /> -<br /> -Dear, from these arts that fail<br /> -To thee I will repair.<br /> -Till the last eve dance down the gale<br /> -With no star in her hair,<br /> -<br /> -Be thou my solar chime,<br /> -Be thou my wheel of night,<br /> -Be thy bright heart, not ashen Time,<br /> -My measure, law, and light.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">-21-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="His_Angel_to_his_Mother" id="His_Angel_to_his_Mother"><i>His Angel to his Mother</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">What</span> would you do for your fairest one,<br /> -Wild as the wind and free as the sun,<br /> -Born a fugitive, sure to slip<br /> -Soon from secular ownership?<br /> -Men in search of the heart's desire,<br /> -Wearily trampling flood and fire,<br /> -Rove betimes into some abyss<br /> -Darker far than eternity's.<br /> -(Ah, the hazard! it awes one so!)<br /> -<br /> -<i>And shall it be thus with the boy, or no?<br /> -Sweet, if you love him, let him go.</i><br /> -<br /> -Happy the Frontier to have gained<br /> -Undetaining and undetained,<br /> -Quick and clean, like a solar ray<br /> -Shot through spindrift across the bay!<br /> -Men would follow a long vain quest,<br /> -Feed on ashes and forfeit rest,<br /> -Bleed with battle and flag with toil,<br /> -Only to stifle in desert soil.<br /> -(Ah, the failure! it stings one so!)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">-22-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -<i>And shall it be thus with the boy, or no?<br /> -Sweet, if you love him, let him go.</i><br /> -<br /> -Vats fill up, and the sheaves are in:<br /> -Never a blessing is left to win<br /> -Save for the myrtle coronal<br /> -Round the urn at the end of all.<br /> -Men will clutch, as they clutched of old,<br /> -Souring honey or dimming gold,<br /> -Not the treasure-trove of the land<br /> -Here shut fast in a roseleaf hand.<br /> -(Ah, the folly! it irks one so!)<br /> -<br /> -<i>And shall it be thus with the boy, or no?<br /> -Sweet, if you love him, let him go.</i><br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">-23-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Autumn_Magic" id="Autumn_Magic"><i>Autumn Magic</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Soon</span> as divine September, flushing from sea to sea,<br /> -Peers from the whole wide upland into eternity,<br /> -<br /> -Soft as an exhalation, ghosts of the thistle start:<br /> -Never a poet saw them but ached in his baffled heart.<br /> -<br /> -Gossamer armies rising thicker than snowflakes fall,<br /> -Waken in blood and marrow, aware of the unheard call.<br /> -<br /> -Oh, what a nameless urging through avenues laid in air,<br /> -Hints of escape, unbodied, intricate, everywhere,<br /> -<br /> -Sense of a feared denial, or access hard to be won;<br /> -Gleams of a dubious gesture for guesses to feed upon!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">-24-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Flame goes flying in heaven, the down on the cool hillside:<br /> -Earth is a bride-veil glory to show and conceal the Bride.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">-25-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Five_Carols_for_Christmastide" id="Five_Carols_for_Christmastide"><i>Five Carols for Christmastide</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="I_The_Ox_he_openeth"></a><span style="margin-left: 11em">I</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The Ox</span> he openeth wide the Doore,<br /> -And from the Snowe he calls her inne,<br /> -And he hath seen her Smile therefor,<br /> -Our Ladye without Sinne.<br /> -Now soone from Sleep<br /> -A Starre shall leap,<br /> -And soone arrive both King and Hinde:<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Amen, Amen</i>:</span><br /> -But O, the Place co'd I but finde!<br /> -<br /> -The Ox hath hush'd his voyce and bent<br /> -Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow,<br /> -And on his lovelie Neck, forspent,<br /> -The Blessed layes her Browe.<br /> -Around her feet<br /> -Full Warme and Sweete<br /> -His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell:<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Amen, Amen</i>:</span><br /> -But sore am I with Vaine Travèl!<br /> -<br /> -The Ox is host in Judah stall<br /> -And Host of more than onelie one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">-26-</a></span><br /> -For close she gathereth withal<br /> -Our Lorde her littel Sonne.<br /> -Glad Hinde and King<br /> -Their Gyfte may bring,<br /> -But wo'd to-night my Teares were there,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Amen, Amen</i>:</span><br /> -Between her Bosom and His hayre!<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="Vines_branching"></a><span style="margin-left: 11em">II</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Vines</span> branching stilly</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shade the open door,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the house of Zion's Lily,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cleanly and poor.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh, brighter than wild laurel</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Babe bounds in her hand,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The King, who for apparel</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hath but a swaddling-band,</span><br /> -And sees her heavenlier smiling than stars in His command!<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soon, mystic changes</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Part Him from her breast,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet there awhile He ranges</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gardens of rest:</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">-27-</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yea, she the first to ponder</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Our ransom and recall,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Awhile may rock Him under</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her young curls' fall,</span><br /> -Against that only sinless love-loyal heart of all.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What shall inure Him</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Unto the deadly dream,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When the Tetrarch shall abjure Him,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The thief blaspheme,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And scribe and soldier jostle</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">About the shameful tree,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And even an Apostle</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Demand to touch and see?—</span><br /> -But she hath kissed her Flower where the Wounds are to be.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="Three_without_slumber"></a><span style="margin-left: 11em">III</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Three</span> without slumber ride from afar,<br /> -Fain of the roads where palaces are;<br /> -All by a shed as they ride in a row,<br /> -"Here!" is the cry of their vanishing Star.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">-28-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -First doth a greybeard, glittering fine,<br /> -Look on Messiah in slant moonshine:<br /> -"<i>This have I bought for Thee!</i>" Vainly: for lo,<br /> -Shut like a fern is the young hand divine.<br /> -<br /> -Next doth a magian, mantled and tall,<br /> -Bow to the Ruler that reigns from a stall:<br /> -"<i>This have I sought for Thee!</i>" Though it be rare,<br /> -Loath little fingers are letting it fall.<br /> -<br /> -Last doth a stripling, bare in his pride,<br /> -Kneel by the Lover as if to abide:<br /> -"<i>This have I wrought for Thee!</i>" Answer him there<br /> -Laugh of a Child, and His arms opened wide.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="Was_a_Soule"></a><span style="margin-left: 11em">IV</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Was</span> a Soule from farre away<br /> -Stood wistful in the Hay,<br /> -And of the Babe a-sleeping hadde a sight:<br /> -Neither reck'd hee any more<br /> -Men behind him and before,<br /> -Nor a thousand busie Winges, flitting light:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">-29-</a></span><br /> -But in middle of the night<br /> -This few-worded wight<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(<i>Yule! Yule!</i>)</span><br /> -Bespake Our Ladye bright:<br /> -<br /> -"Fill mee, ere my corage faints,<br /> -With the lore of all the Saints:<br /> -Harte to harte against my Brother let mee be.<br /> -By the Fountaines that are His<br /> -I wo'd slumber where Hee is:<br /> -Prithee, Mother, give the other Brest to mee!"<br /> -The Soule that none co'd see<br /> -She hath taken on her knee:<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(<i>Yule! Yule!</i>)</span><br /> -Sing prayse to Our Ladye.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="The_Ox_and_the_Ass"></a><span style="margin-left: 11em">V</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>The Ox and the Ass,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Tell aloud of them:</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Sing their pleasure as it was</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>In Bethlehem.</i></span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Still</span> as blowing rose, sudden as a sword,<br /> -Maidenly the Maiden bare Jesu Christ the Lord;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">-30-</a></span><br /> -Yet for very lowlihood, such a Guest to greet,<br /> -Goeth in a little swoon while kissing of His feet.<br /> -<br /> -Mary, drifted snow on the earthen floor,<br /> -Joseph, fallen wondrous weak now he would adore,—<br /> -(Oh, the surging might of love! Oh, the drowning bliss!)<br /> -Both are rapt to Heaven and lose their human Heaven that is.<br /> -<br /> -From the Newly Born trails a lonely cry.<br /> -With a mind to heed, the Ox turns a glowing eye;<br /> -In the empty byre the Ass thinks her heart to blame:<br /> -Up for comforting of God the beasts of burden came,<br /> -<br /> -Softly to inquire, thrusting as for cheer<br /> -There between the tender hands, furry faces dear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">-31-</a></span><br /> -Blessing on the honest coats! tawny coat and grey<br /> -Friended Our Delight so well when warmth had strayed away.<br /> -<br /> -Crooks are on the sill; sceptres sail the wave;<br /> -All the hopes of all the years are thronging to the Cave.<br /> -Mother slept not long, nor long Father's sense was dim,<br /> -But another twain the while stood parent-wise to Him.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>The Ox and the Ass,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Be you glad for them</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Such a moment came to pass</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>In Bethlehem!</i></span><br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">-32-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="On_Leaving_Winchester" id="On_Leaving_Winchester"><i>On Leaving Winchester</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Winton</span>, my window with a mossy marge,<br /> -My lofty oriel, whence the soul hath sight<br /> -Of passionate yesterdays, all gold and large,<br /> -Arisen to enrich our narrow night:<br /> -Though others bless thee, who so blest before<br /> -Hath pastured from the violent time apart,<br /> -And laved in supersensual light the heart<br /> -Alone with thy magnificent No More?<br /> -<br /> -Sweet court of roses now, sweet camp of bees!<br /> -The hills that lean to thy white bed at dawn<br /> -Hear, for the clash of raging dynasties,<br /> -Laughter of boys about a branchy lawn.<br /> -Hast thou a stain, let ivy cover all;<br /> -Nor seem of greatness disinhabited<br /> -While spirits in their wonted splendour tread<br /> -From close to close, by Wolvesey's idle wall.<br /> -<br /> -Bright fins against thy lucid waters leap,<br /> -And nigh thy towers the nesting ring-doves dwell;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">-33-</a></span><br /> -Be lenient winter, and long moons, and sleep<br /> -Upon thee; but on me the sharp Farewell.<br /> -Happy art thou, O clad and crowned with rest!<br /> -Happy the shepherd (would that I were he!)<br /> -Whose early way is step for step with thee,<br /> -Whose old brow fades on thine immortal breast.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">-34-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Cobwebs" id="Cobwebs"><i>Cobwebs</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Who</span> would not praise thee, miracle of Frost?<br /> -Some gesture overnight, some breath benign,<br /> -And lo! the tree's a fountain all a-shine,<br /> -The hedge a throne of unimagined cost;<br /> -In wheel and fan along a wall embossed,<br /> -The spider's humble handiwork shows fine<br /> -With jewels girdling every airy line:<br /> -Though the small mason in the cold be lost.<br /> -<br /> -Web after web, a morning snare of bliss<br /> -Starring with beauty the whole neighbourhood,<br /> -May well beget an envy clean and good.<br /> -When man goes too into the earth-abyss,<br /> -And God in His altered garden walks, I would<br /> -My secret woof might gleam so fair as this.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">-35-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Astraea" id="Astraea"><i>Astræa</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Since</span> I avail no more, O men! with you,<br /> -I will go back unto the gods content;<br /> -For they recall me, long with earth inblent,<br /> -Lest lack of faith divinity undo.<br /> -I served you truly while I dreamed you true,<br /> -And golden pains with sovereign pleasure spent:<br /> -But now, farewell! I take my sad ascent,<br /> -With failure over all I nursed and knew.<br /> -<br /> -Are ye unwise, who would not let me love you?<br /> -Or must too bold desires be quieted?<br /> -Only to ease you, never to reprove you,<br /> -I will go back to heaven with heart unfed:<br /> -Yet sisterly I turn, I bend above you,<br /> -To kiss (ah, with what sorrow!) all my dead.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">-36-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Yew-Tree" id="The_Yew-Tree"><i>The Yew-Tree</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">As</span> I came homeward<br /> -At merry Christmas,<br /> -By the old Church tower<br /> -Through the Churchyard grass,<br /> -<br /> -And saw there circled<br /> -With graves all about,<br /> -The Yew-tree paternal,<br /> -The Yew-tree devout,<br /> -<br /> -Then this hot life-blood<br /> -Was hard to endure,<br /> -O Death! so I loved thee,<br /> -The sole love sure.<br /> -<br /> -For stars slip in heaven,<br /> -They wander, they break;<br /> -But under the Yew-tree<br /> -Not one heartache.<br /> -<br /> -And ours, what failure<br /> -Renewed and avowed!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">-37-</a></span><br /> -But ah, the long-buried<br /> -Is leal, and is proud.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em">* * * * * *</span><br /> -<br /> -At eve, o'erlooking<br /> -The smooth chilly tide,<br /> -With age-hidden meaning<br /> -The Yew-tree sighed,<br /> -<br /> -By the square grey tower,<br /> -In the short grey grass,<br /> -As I came homeward<br /> -At merry Christmas.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">-38-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Ten_Colloquies" id="Ten_Colloquies"><i>Ten Colloquies</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="I_THE_SEARCH"></a>I. THE SEARCH</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">Why</span> dost thou hide from these<br /> -Out along the hills halloaing?<br /> -Why hast forbade<br /> -Thy face, O goddess! to thy votaries?"<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Unasking and unknowing</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Is he whom I make glad,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like Dian grandly going</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To the sleeping shepherd-lad.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Men that pursue learn not</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To follow is my lot.</i>"</span><br /> -<br /> -"Happiness, secret one,<br /> -Heartbeat of the April weather,<br /> -Where art thou found?<br /> -Tell; lest I err too, yonder in the sun."<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Call in thine eye from ether,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thy feet from far ground;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Seek Honour in this heather,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With austere purples wound.</i></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">-39-</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Serve her: she will reveal</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Me, hound-like at thy heel.</i>"</span><br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="II_FACT_AND_THE_MYSTIC"></a>II. FACT AND THE MYSTIC</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">Good-morrow</span>, Symbol."—"<i>Call me not<br /> -The name I neither love nor merit.</i>"<br /> -—"That grave eternal name inherit,<br /> -Thine ever, though all men forgot."<br /> -<br /> -"<i>Mistake me not; secure and free<br /> -From rock to rock my falchion passes:<br /> -But Symbols trail through grey morasses<br /> -The tattered shows of faëry.</i>"<br /> -<br /> -"My Symbol thou, of phantom blood,<br /> -With starlight from thy temples raying;<br /> -Along thy floated body playing<br /> -Are withering wings, and wings in bud."<br /> -<br /> -"<i>Alas, thine eye with clay is sealed.</i>"<br /> -—"Symbol, before the clay's denial,<br /> -While yet I had a god's espial,<br /> -I saw thee in a solar field!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">-40-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -"<i>Nay: I am Fact.</i>"—"Then lose thy praise;<br /> -And lest to-day no song behoove thee,<br /> -Lest mine impeach thee, or reprove thee,<br /> -Ah, Symbol, Symbol! go thy ways."<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="III_THE_POETS_CHART"></a>III. THE POET’S CHART</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">Where</span> shall I find my light?"<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Turn from another's track:</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whether for gain or lack,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Love but thy natal right.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Cease to follow withal,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Though on thine up-led feet</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Flakes of the phosphor fall.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oracles overheard</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Are never again for thee,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Nor at a magian's knee</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Under the hemlock tree,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Burns the illumining word.</i>"</span><br /> -<br /> -"Whence shall I take my law?"<br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Neither from sires nor sons,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Nor the delivered ones,</i></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">-41-</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Holy, invoked with awe.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Rather, dredge the divine</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Out of thine own poor dust,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Feebly to speak and shine.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Schools shall be as they are:</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Be thou truer, and stray</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Alone, intent, and away,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>In a savage wild to obey</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Some dim primordial star.</i>"</span><br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="IV_OF_THE_GOLDEN_AGE"></a>IV. OF THE GOLDEN AGE</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">Recall</span> for me, recall<br /> -The time more true and ample;<br /> -The world whereon I trample,<br /> -How tortuous and small!<br /> -Behold, I tire of all.<br /> -<br /> -"Once, gods in jewelled mail<br /> -Through greenwood ways invited;<br /> -There how the moon is blighted,<br /> -And mosses long and pale<br /> -On lifeless cedars trail."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">-42-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -"<i>Child, keep this good unrest:<br /> -But give to thine own story<br /> -Simplicity with glory;<br /> -To greatness dispossessed,<br /> -Dominion of thy breast.</i><br /> -<br /> -"<i>In abstinence, in pride,<br /> -Thou, who from Folly's boldest<br /> -Thy sacred eye withholdest,<br /> -Another morn shalt ride<br /> -At Agamemnon's side.</i>"<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="V_ON_TIMES_THRESHOLD"></a>V. ON TIME’S THRESHOLD</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<i>See: brood: remember: this thy function only;<br /> -Neither to have nor do is meet for thee.</i>"<br /> -"Ah, earth's a palace where I must go lonely!"<br /> -"<i>Nay: earth's a dungeon which thou passest, free.</i>"<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="VI_WOOD-PIGEONS"></a>VI. WOOD-PIGEONS</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">I cannot</span> soar beside, but must for ever suffer<br /> -Blue air athrill with thee to lap against my breast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">-43-</a></span><br /> -And dream it is thy wing."<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">—"<i>Dear, sighs about thee hover:</i></span><br /> -<i>Among the dewy leaves my longing is thy guest.<br /> -Yet, lone and far apart, shall we no joy discover<br /> -To travel the same sky, and by one sea to rest?<br /> -Say, mate in all this world?</i>"<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">—"Ah, mute forbidden lover,</span><br /> -Ah, song I shall not hear!"<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">—"<i>Ah, sweet unbuilded nest!</i>"</span><br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="VII_PREDICAMENTS"></a>VII. PREDICAMENTS</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">If</span> the gods ruin send?"—<br /> -"<i>Make that thy bride and friend.</i>"<br /> -<br /> -"If the gods cheat?"—"<i>They say<br /> -The one true word alway.</i>"<br /> -<br /> -"If for some loss I pine?"<br /> -"—<i>The past is theirs, yet thine.</i>"<br /> -<br /> -"If I sue not?"—"<i>Vain cares!<br /> -The morrow's thine, not theirs.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">-44-</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="VIII_THE_CO-ETERNAL"></a>VIII. THE CO-ETERNAL</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<i>Is it thou, silly heart,<br /> -Not prone on thy pallet, but grieving apart?</i>"<br /> -—"Natal Star, even so."<br /> -"<i>I miss thee to-night, while thou smoulderest low.</i>"<br /> -—"Live in beauty! but I<br /> -For bloodshed of spirit, here dwindle and die."<br /> -<br /> -"<i>Are we two not the same,<br /> -By law everlasting one mystical flame?<br /> -Aloft if I burn,<br /> -Every ray of my light be thy stair of return:<br /> -Up, up! to our lot<br /> -Where warfare and time and the body are not.</i>"<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="IX_STERN_APHRODITE"></a>IX. STERN APHRODITE</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">Iole</span> is coy with me,<br /> -Goddess! for a month I suffer<br /> -Knowing not how far I be:<br /> -Teach me softer arts, or rougher,<br /> -Well to sail that sea."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">-45-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -"<i>Fie: how long could Love divine<br /> -Venturing, abstain from answer,<br /> -Nor look landward for a sign!<br /> -Niggard, take of thine entrancer<br /> -Shipwreck in the brine.</i>"<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="X_THE_JUBILEE"></a>X. THE JUBILEE</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -"<i>Master of your wounded heart, regent of your pleasure!<br /> -We that long defied your art, tamèd Moods at leisure,<br /> -All with you, nor now apart, would tread out our measure.</i>"<br /> -<br /> -"Welcome, equal powers benign, quit of ancient madness!<br /> -Dance with me beneath the vine, not ungentle Sadness;<br /> -Link your little hand in mine soberly, my Gladness."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">-46-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Winter_Boughs" id="Winter_Boughs"><i>Winter Boughs</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">How</span> tender and how slow, in sunset cheer,<br /> -Far on the hill, our quiet treetops fade!<br /> -A broidery of ebon seaweed, laid<br /> -Long in a book, were scarce more fine and clear.<br /> -Frost and sad light and windless atmosphere<br /> -Have breathed on them, and of their frailties made<br /> -Beauty more sweet than summer's builded shade,<br /> -Whose green domes fallen, leave this wonder here.<br /> -<br /> -O ye forgetting and outliving boughs,<br /> -With not a plume, gay in the joust before,<br /> -Left for the Archer! so, in evening's eye,<br /> -So stilled, so lifted, let your lover die,<br /> -Set in the upper calm no voices rouse,<br /> -Stript, meek, withdrawn, against the heavenly door.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">-47-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="WH" id="WH"><i>W.H.</i></a></h2> - -<p class="lg"><i>A.D. MDCCLXXVIII-MDCCCXXX</i></p> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Between</span> the wet trees and the sorry steeple,<br /> -Keep, Time, in dark Soho, what once was Hazlitt,<br /> -Seeker of Truth, and finder oft of Beauty;<br /> -<br /> -Beauty's a sinking light, ah, none too faithful;<br /> -But Truth, who leaves so here her spent pursuer,<br /> -Forgets not her great pawn: herself shall claim it.<br /> -<br /> -Therefore sleep safe, thou dear and battling spirit,<br /> -Safe also on our earth, begetting ever<br /> -Some one love worth the ages and the nations!<br /> -<br /> -Falleth no thing that was to thee eternal.<br /> -Sleep safe in dark Soho: the stars are shining,<br /> -Titian and Wordsworth live; the People marches.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">-48-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Vigil-at-Arms" id="The_Vigil-at-Arms"><i>The Vigil-at-Arms</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Keep</span> holy watch with silence, prayer, and fasting<br /> -Till morning break, and every bugle play;<br /> -Unto the One aware from everlasting<br /> -Dear are the winners: thou art more than they.<br /> -<br /> -Forth from this peace on manhood's way thou goest,<br /> -Flushed with resolve, and radiant in mail;<br /> -Blessing supreme for men unborn thou sowest,<br /> -O knight elect! O soul ordained to fail!<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">-49-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Friends_Song_for_Simoisius" id="A_Friends_Song_for_Simoisius"><i>A Friend’s Song for Simoisius</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> breath of dew and twilight's grace<br /> -Be on the lonely battle-place,<br /> -And to so young, so kind a face,<br /> -The long protecting grasses cling!<br /> -(Alas, alas,<br /> -That one inexorable thing!)<br /> -<br /> -In rocky hollows cool and deep,<br /> -The honey-bees unrifled sleep;<br /> -The early moon from Ida steep<br /> -Comes to the empty wrestling-ring;<br /> -<br /> -Upon the widowed wind recede<br /> -No echoes of the shepherd's reed;<br /> -And children without laughter lead<br /> -The war-horse to the watering;<br /> -<br /> -With footstep separate and slow<br /> -The father and the mother go,<br /> -Not now upon an urn they know<br /> -To mingle tears for comforting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">-50-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Thou stranger Ajax Telamon!<br /> -What to the lovely hast thou done,<br /> -That nevermore a maid may run<br /> -With him across the flowery Spring?<br /> -<br /> -The world to me has nothing dear<br /> -Beyond the namesake river here:<br /> -Oh, Simois is wild and clear!<br /> -And to his brink my heart I bring;<br /> -<br /> -My heart, if only this might be,<br /> -Would stay his waters from the sea,<br /> -To cover Troy, to cover me,<br /> -To haste the hour of perishing.<br /> -(Alas, alas,<br /> -That one inexorable thing!)<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">-51-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="To_an_Ideal" id="To_an_Ideal"><i>To an Ideal</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">That</span> I have tracked you from afar, my crown I call it and my height:<br /> -All hail, O dear and difficult star! All hail, O heart of light!<br /> -No pleasure born of time for me,<br /> -Who in you touch eternity.<br /> -If I have found you where you are, I win my mortal fight.<br /> -<br /> -You flee the plain: I therefore choose summit and solitude for mine,<br /> -The high air where I cannot lose our comradeship divine.<br /> -More lovely here, to wakened blood,<br /> -Sparse leaf and hesitating bud,<br /> -Than rosaries in the dewy vales for which the dryads pine.<br /> -<br /> -Spirit austere! lend aid: I walk along inclement ridges too,<br /> -Disowning toys of sense, to baulk my soul of ends untrue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">-52-</a></span><br /> -Because man's cry, by night and day,<br /> -Cried not for God, I broke away.<br /> -On, at your ruthless pace! I'll stalk, a hilltop ghost, with you.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">-53-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="In_a_Ruin_after_a_Thunder_Storm" id="In_a_Ruin_after_a_Thunder_Storm"><i>In a Ruin, after a Thunder Storm</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Keep</span> of the Norman, old to flood and cloud!<br /> -Thou dost reproach me with thy sunset look,<br /> -That in our common menace I forsook<br /> -Hope, the last fear, and stood impartial proud:<br /> -Almost, almost, while ether spake aloud,<br /> -Death from the smoking stones my spirit shook<br /> -Into thy hollow as leaves into a brook,<br /> -No more than they by heaven's assassins cowed.<br /> -<br /> -But now thy thousand-scarrèd steep is flecked<br /> -With the calm kisses of the light delayed,<br /> -Breathe on me better valour: to subject<br /> -My soul to greed of life, and grow afraid<br /> -Lest ere her fight's full term, the Architect<br /> -See downfall of the stronghold that He made.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">-54-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Beati_Mortui" id="Beati_Mortui"><i><span lang="la">Beati Mortui</span></i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Blessed</span> the Dead in Spirit, our brave dead<br /> -Not passed, but perfected:<br /> -Who tower up to mystical full bloom<br /> -From self, as from a known alchemic tomb;<br /> -Who out of wrong<br /> -Run forth with laughter and a broken thong;<br /> -Who win from pain their strange and flawless grant<br /> -Of peace anticipant;<br /> -Who cerements lately wore of sin, but now,<br /> -Unbound from foot to brow,<br /> -Gleam in and out of cities, beautiful<br /> -As sun-born colours of a forest pool<br /> -Where Autumn sees<br /> -The splash of walnuts from her thinning trees.<br /> -<br /> -Though wondered-at of some, yea, feared almost<br /> -As any chantry ghost,<br /> -How sight of these, in hermitage or mart,<br /> -Makes glad a wistful heart!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">-55-</a></span><br /> -For life's apologetics read most true<br /> -In spirits risen anew,<br /> -Like larks in air<br /> -To whom flat earth is all a heavenward stair,<br /> -And who from yonder parapet<br /> -Scorn every mortal fret,<br /> -And rain their sweet bewildering staves<br /> -Upon our furrow of fresh-delvèd graves.<br /> -<br /> -If thus to have trod and left the wormy way<br /> -Makes men so wondrous gay,<br /> -So stripped and free and potently alive,<br /> -Who would not his infirmity survive,<br /> -And bathe in victory, and come to be<br /> -As blithe as ye,<br /> -Saints of the ended wars? Ah, greeting give;<br /> -Turn not away, too fugitive:<br /> -But hastening towards us, hallow the foul street,<br /> -And sit with us at meat,<br /> -And of your courtesy, on us unwise<br /> -Fix oft those purer eyes,<br /> -Till in ourselves who love them dwell<br /> -The same sure light ineffable:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">-56-</a></span><br /> -Till they who walk with us in after years<br /> -Forgetting time and tears<br /> -(As we with you), shall sing all day instead:<br /> -"How blessed are the Dead!"<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">-57-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Two_Irish_Peasant_Songs" id="Two_Irish_Peasant_Songs"><i>Two Irish Peasant Songs</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="I_IN_LEINSTER"></a>I. IN LEINSTER</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">I try</span> to knead and spin, but my life is low the while.<br /> -Oh, I long to be alone, and walk abroad a mile;<br /> -Yet if I walk alone, and think of naught at all,<br /> -Why from me that's young should the wild tears fall?<br /> -<br /> -The shower-sodden earth, the earth-coloured streams,<br /> -They breathe on me awake, and moan to me in dreams,<br /> -And yonder ivy fondling the broke castle-wall,<br /> -It pulls upon my heart till the wild tears fall.<br /> -<br /> -The cabin-door looks down a furze-lighted hill,<br /> -And far as Leighlin Cross the fields are green and still;<br /> -But once I hear the blackbird in Leighlin hedges call,<br /> -The foolishness is on me, and the wild tears fall!<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">-58-</a></span></p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><a id="II_IN_ULSTER"></a>II. IN ULSTER</h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">'Tis</span> the time o' the year, if the quicken-bough be staunch,<br /> -The green like a breaker rolls steady up the branch,<br /> -And surges in the spaces, and floods the trunk, and heaves<br /> -In jets of angry spray that is the under-white of leaves;<br /> -And from the thorn in companies the foamy petals fall,<br /> -And waves of jolly ivy wink along a windy wall.<br /> -<br /> -'Tis the time o' the year the marsh is full of sound,<br /> -And good and glorious it is to smell the living ground.<br /> -The crimson-headed catkin shakes above the pasture-bars,<br /> -The daisy takes the middle field and spangles it with stars,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">-59-</a></span><br /> -And down the hedgerow to the lane the primroses do crowd,<br /> -All coloured like the twilight moon, and spreading like a cloud!<br /> -<br /> -'Tis the time o' the year, in early light and glad,<br /> -The lark has a music to drive a lover mad;<br /> -The rocks are dripping nightly, the breathèd damps arise,<br /> -Deliciously the freshets cool the grayling's golden eyes,<br /> -And lying in a row against the chilly north, the sheep<br /> -Inclose a place without a wind for tender lambs to sleep.<br /> -<br /> -'Tis the time o' the year I turn upon the height<br /> -To watch from my harrow the dance of going light;<br /> -And if before the sun be hid, come slowly up the vale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">-60-</a></span><br /> -Honora with her dimpled throat, Honora with her pail,<br /> -Hey, but there's many a March for me, and many and many a lass!—<br /> -I fall to work and song again, and let Honora pass.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">-61-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Japanese_Anemone" id="The_Japanese_Anemone"><i>The Japanese Anemone</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">All</span> summer the breath of the roses around<br /> -Exhales with a delicate passionate sound;<br /> -And when from a trellis, in holiday places,<br /> -They croon and cajole, with their slumberous faces,<br /> -A lad in the lane must slacken his paces.<br /> -<br /> -Fragrance of these is a voice from a bower:<br /> -But low by the wall is my odourless flower,<br /> -So pure, so controlled, not a fume is above her,<br /> -That poet or bee should delay there and hover;<br /> -For she is a silence, and therefore I love her.<br /> -<br /> -And never a mortal by morn or midnight<br /> -Is called to her hid little house of delight;<br /> -And she keeps from the wind, on his pillages olden,<br /> -Upon a true stalk in rough weather upholden,<br /> -Her winter-white gourd with the hollow moon-golden.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">-62-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -While ardours of roses contend and increase,<br /> -Methinks she has found how noble is peace,<br /> -Like a spirit besought from the world to dissever,<br /> -Not absent to men, though resumed by the Giver,<br /> -And dead long ago, being lovely for ever.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">-63-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Orisons" id="Orisons"><i>Orisons</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Orange</span> and olive and glossed bay-tree,<br /> -And air of the evening out at sea,<br /> -And out at sea on the steep warm stone,<br /> -A little bare diver poising alone.<br /> -<br /> -Flushed from the cool of Sicilian waves,<br /> -Flushed as the coral in clean sea-caves,<br /> -"I am!" he cries to his glorying heart,<br /> -And unto he knows not what: "<span class="smcap">Thou</span> art!"<br /> -<br /> -He leaps, he shines, he sinks and is gone:<br /> -He will climb to the golden ledge anon.<br /> -Perfecter rite can none employ,<br /> -When the god of the isle is good to a boy.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">-64-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Inner_Fate_a_Chorus" id="The_Inner_Fate_a_Chorus"><i>The Inner Fate: a Chorus</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Not</span> weak with eld<br /> -The stars beheld<br /> -Proud Persia coming to her doom;<br /> -Not battle-broke, nor tempest-tossed,<br /> -The long luxurious galleys lost<br /> -Their souls at Actium.<br /> -<br /> -Not outer arts<br /> -Of hostile hearts<br /> -Seduced the arm of France to be<br /> -The wreckage of his wars at last,<br /> -The orphan of the kingdoms, cast<br /> -Upon the mothering sea.<br /> -<br /> -Man evermore doth work his will,<br /> -And evermore the gods are still,<br /> -Applauding him alone who stands<br /> -Too just for Heaven-accusing groans,<br /> -But in his house of havoc owns<br /> -The doing of his hands:<br /> -Transgressor, yet divinely taught<br /> -To suffer all, blaspheming naught,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">-65-</a></span><br /> -When fair-begun must foul conclude:<br /> -Himself progenitor of death<br /> -Who breeds, within, the only breath<br /> -Can kill beatitude.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">-66-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Acknowledgment" id="The_Acknowledgment"><i>The Acknowledgment</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Since</span> first I knew it our divine employ<br /> -To beat beyond the reach of soiling care,<br /> -As at Philippi, well of doom aware,<br /> -The Prætor called and heard the singing-boy;<br /> -Since first my soul so jealous was of joy,<br /> -That any facile linden-bloom in air,<br /> -Or fall of water on a wildwood stair,<br /> -Annulled for her all dragging dull annoy;<br /> -Though word of thanks I lacked, though, dumb, I smiled<br /> -Long, long, at such august amends up-piled,<br /> -Let this the debt redeem: that when Ye drop<br /> -Death's aloe-leaf within my honeyed cup,<br /> -On thoughtful knee your much-beholden child,<br /> -Immortals! unto You will drink it up.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">-67-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="By_the_Trundle-bed" id="By_the_Trundle-bed"><i>By the Trundle-bed</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Lost</span> love, be never beyond Love's calling!<br /> -For this I claim of you, strong heart, sweet<br /> -As fontal water in Arden falling,<br /> -As first-mown hay in the April heat:<br /> -<br /> -To tend from heaven, to rear, to harden,<br /> -And bring to bloom in the outer cold,<br /> -Our daffodil bud of a walled-in garden,<br /> -Our son that is like you, and six years old;<br /> -<br /> -And lest his worth be the worth unreal,<br /> -To ward him not from the mortal blast,<br /> -But suffer your own, through a long ordeal,<br /> -Verily like you to be at the last,<br /> -<br /> -And hear men murmur, if so he merit<br /> -In your old place with your look to arise:<br /> -"The sign of a saved soul who can inherit?—<br /> -You have earned, O King! those beautiful eyes."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">-68-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Arboricide" id="Arboricide"><i>Arboricide</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">A word</span> of grief to me erewhile:<br /> -<i>We have cut the oak down, in our isle.</i><br /> -<br /> -And I said: "Ye have bereaven<br /> -The song-thrush and the bee,<br /> -And the fisher-boy at sea<br /> -Of his sea-mark in the even;<br /> -And gourds of cooling shade, to lie<br /> -Within the sickle's sound;<br /> -And the old sheep-dog's loyal eye<br /> -Of sleep on duty's ground;<br /> -And poets of their tent<br /> -And quiet tenement.<br /> -Ah, impious! who so paid<br /> -Such fatherhood, and made<br /> -Of murmurous immortality a cargo and a trade."<br /> -<br /> -For the hewn oak a century fair,<br /> -A wound in earth, an ache in air.<br /> -<br /> -And I said: "No pillared height<br /> -With a summer daïs over,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">-69-</a></span><br /> -Where a dryad fled her lover<br /> -Through the long arcade of light;<br /> -Nor 'neath Arcturus rolleth more,<br /> -Since the loud leaves are gone,<br /> -Between the shorn cliff and the shore,<br /> -Pan's organ antiphon.<br /> -Some nameless envy fed<br /> -This blow at grandeur's head:<br /> -Some breathed reproach, o'erdue,<br /> -Degenerate men, ye drew!<br /> -Hence, for his too plain heavenliness, our Socrates ye slew."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">-70-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Cherry_Bough" id="The_Cherry_Bough"><i>The Cherry Bough</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">In</span> a new poet's and a new friend's honour,<br /> -Forth from the scornèd town and her gold-getting,<br /> -Come men with lutes and bowls, and find a welcome<br /> -Here in my garden,<br /> -<br /> -Find bowers and deep shade and windy grasses,<br /> -And by the south wall, wet and forward-jutting,<br /> -One early branch fire-tipped with Roman cherries.<br /> -Oh, naught is absent,<br /> -<br /> -Oh, naught but you, kind head that far in prison<br /> -Sunk on a weary arm, feels no god's pity<br /> -Stroking and sighing where the kingly laurels<br /> -Were once so plenty;<br /> -<br /> -Nor dreams, from revel and strange faces turning,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">-71-</a></span><br /> -How on the strength of my fair tree that knew you<br /> -I lean to-day, when most my heart is laden<br /> -With your rich verses!<br /> -<br /> -Since, long ago, in other gentler weather,<br /> -Ere wrath and exile were, you lay beneath it<br /> -(Your symbol then, your innocent wild brother<br /> -Glad with your gladness),<br /> -<br /> -What has befallen in the world of wonder,<br /> -That still it puts forth bubbles of sweet colour,<br /> -And you, and you that fed our eyes with beauty,<br /> -Are sapped and rotten?<br /> -<br /> -Alas! When my young guests have done with singing,<br /> -I break it, leaf and fruit, my garden's glory,<br /> -And hold it high among them, and say after:<br /> -"O my poor Ovid,<br /> -<br /> -"Years pass, and loves pass too; and yet remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">-72-</a></span><br /> -For the clear time when we were boys together,<br /> -These tears at home are shed; and with you also<br /> -Your bough is dying."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">-73-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Wild_Ride" id="The_Wild_Ride"><i>The Wild Ride</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">I hear</span> in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses<br /> -All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,<br /> -All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.<br /> -<br /> -Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle<br /> -Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion,<br /> -With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him.<br /> -<br /> -The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses;<br /> -There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:<br /> -What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.<br /> -<br /> -Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">-74-</a></span><br /> -And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam:<br /> -Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing.<br /> -<br /> -A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle,<br /> -A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty:<br /> -We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers.<br /> -<br /> -(I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses<br /> -All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,<br /> -All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.)<br /> -<br /> -We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind;<br /> -We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil.<br /> -Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">-75-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Bedesfolk" id="Bedesfolk"><i>Bedesfolk</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Who</span> is good enough to be<br /> -Near the never-stainèd sea?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah, not I,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who thereby</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Only sigh:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Pray for me.</i></span><br /> -<br /> -Standing underneath some free<br /> -Innocent magnanimous tree,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To be true,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There anew</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Must I sue:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Pray for me.</i></span><br /> -<br /> -Ere I pass on hilly lea<br /> -Fellow-lives of glad degree,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Without shame,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Name by name</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">These I claim:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Pray for me.</i></span><br /> -<br /> -Fail not, then, thou kingly sea!<br /> -Aid the needy, sister tree!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">-76-</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">March herds,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ye have words!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">April birds,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Pray for me</i>!</span><br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">-77-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="In_a_City_Street" id="In_a_City_Street"><i>In a City Street</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Though</span> sea and mount have beauty and this but what it can,<br /> -Thrice fairer than their life the life here battling in the van,<br /> -The tragic gleam, the mist and grime,<br /> -The dread endearing stain of time,<br /> -The sullied heart of man.<br /> -<br /> -Mine is the clotted sunshine, a bubble in the sky,<br /> -That where it dare not enter steals in shrouded passion by;<br /> -And mine the saffron river-sails,<br /> -And every plane-tree that avails<br /> -To rest an urban eye;<br /> -<br /> -The bells, the dripping gable, the tavern's corner glare;<br /> -The cab in firefly darting; the barrel-organ air,<br /> -While one by one, or two by two<br /> -The hatless babes are waltzing through<br /> -The gutters of the Square.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">-78-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Not on Thessalian headlands of song and old desire<br /> -My spirit chose her pleasure-house, but in the London mire:<br /> -Long, long alone she loves to pace,<br /> -And find a music in this place<br /> -As in a minster choir.<br /> -<br /> -O names of awe and rapture! O deeds of legendry!<br /> -Still is it most of joy within your altered pale to be,<br /> -Whose very ills I fain would slake<br /> -Mine angels are, and help to make<br /> -In Hell a Heaven for me.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">-79-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Florentin" id="Florentin"><i>Florentin</i></a></h2> - -<p class="lg"><i>A.D. MDCCCXC</i></p> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Heart</span> all full of heavenward haste, too like the bubble bright<br /> -On wild little waters floating half of an April night,<br /> -Fled from the ear in music, fled from the eye in light,<br /> -<br /> -Dear and stainless heart of a boy! No sweeter thing can be<br /> -Drawn to the quiet centre of God who is our sea:<br /> -Whither, through troubled valleys, we also follow thee.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">-80-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Song_of_the_Lilac" id="A_Song_of_the_Lilac"><i>A Song of the Lilac</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Above</span> the wall that's broken,<br /> -And from the coppice thinned,<br /> -So sacred and so sweet<br /> -The lilac in the wind!<br /> -For when by night the May wind blows<br /> -The lilac-blooms apart,<br /> -The memory of his first love<br /> -Is shaken on his heart.<br /> -<br /> -In tears it long was buried,<br /> -And trances wrapt it round;<br /> -Oh, how they wake it now,<br /> -The fragrance and the sound!<br /> -For when by night the May wind blows<br /> -The lilac-blooms apart,<br /> -The memory of his first love<br /> -Is shaken on his heart.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">-81-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Monochrome" id="Monochrome"><i>Monochrome</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Shut</span> fast again in Beauty's sheath<br /> -Where ancient forms renew,<br /> -The round world seems above, beneath,<br /> -One wash of faintest blue,<br /> -<br /> -And air and tide so stilly sweet<br /> -In nameless union lie,<br /> -The little far-off fishing fleet<br /> -Goes drifting up the sky.<br /> -<br /> -Secure of neither misted coast<br /> -Nor ocean undefined,<br /> -Our flagging sail is like the ghost<br /> -Of one that served mankind,<br /> -<br /> -Who in the void, as we upon<br /> -This melancholy sea,<br /> -Finds labour and allegiance done,<br /> -And Self begin to be.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">-82-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Saint_Francis_Endeth_his_Sermon" id="Saint_Francis_Endeth_his_Sermon"><i>Saint Francis Endeth his Sermon</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -"<span class="smcap">And</span> now, my clerks who go in fur or feather<br /> -Or brighter scales, I bless you all. Be true<br /> -To your true Lover and Avenger, whether<br /> -By land or sea ye die the death undue.<br /> -Then proffer man your pardon; and together<br /> -Track him to Heaven, and see his heart made new.<br /> -<br /> -"From long ago one hope hath in me thriven,<br /> -Your hope, mysterious as the scented May:<br /> -Not to Himself your titles God hath given<br /> -In vain, nor only for our mortal day.<br /> -O doves! how from The Dove shall ye be driven?<br /> -O darling lambs! ye with The Lamb shall play."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">-83-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="An_Estray" id="An_Estray"><i>An Estray</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Well</span> we know, not ever here is a footing for thy dream:<br /> -Thou art sick for horse and spear beside an Asian stream,<br /> -<br /> -For the hearth-smoke in the wild, for the goatherd's stave,<br /> -For a beauty far exiled, a belief within its grave.<br /> -<br /> -While another sky and ground orb thy strange remembering,<br /> -And no world of mortal bound is the master of thy wing,<br /> -<br /> -Canst thou yet thy fate forgive, that the godhead in thy breast<br /> -Has this life at least to live as a force in rhythmic rest,<br /> -<br /> -As a seed that bides the hour of obscureness and decay,<br /> -Being troth of flower to flower down the long dynastic day?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">-84-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Child whom elder airs enfold, who hast greatness to maintain<br /> -Where heroic hap of old may return and shine again,<br /> -<br /> -As too oft across thy heart flits the too familiar light,<br /> -How alarms of love upstart at the token quick and slight!<br /> -<br /> -Lest captivity be o'er, lest thou glide away, and so<br /> -From our tents of Nevermore strike the trail of Long Ago.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">-85-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Friendship_Broken" id="Friendship_Broken"><i>Friendship Broken</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">I</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">We</span> chose the faint chill morning, friend and friend,<br /> -Pacing the twilight out beneath an oak,<br /> -Soul calling soul to judgment; and we spoke<br /> -Strange things and deep as any poet penned,<br /> -Such truth as never truth again can mend,<br /> -Whatever art we use, what gods invoke;<br /> -It was not wrath, it made nor strife nor smoke:<br /> -Be what it may, it had a solemn end.<br /> -<br /> -Farewell, in peace. We of the selfsame throne<br /> -Are foeman vassals; pale astrologers,<br /> -Each a wise skeptic of the other's star.<br /> -Silently, as we went our ways alone,<br /> -The steadfast sun, whom no poor prayer deters,<br /> -Drew high between us his majestic bar.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">-86-</a></span></p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">II</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Mine</span> was the mood that shows the dearest face<br /> -Through a long avenue, and voices kind<br /> -Idle, and indeterminate, and blind<br /> -As rumours from a very distant place;<br /> -Yet, even so, it gathered the first chase<br /> -Of the first swallows where the lane's inclined,<br /> -An ebb of wavy wings to serve my mind<br /> -For round Spring's vision. Ah, some equal grace<br /> -(The calm sense of seen beauty without sight)<br /> -Befell thee, honourable heart! no less<br /> -In patient stupor walking from the dawn;<br /> -Albeit thou too wert loser of life's light,<br /> -Like fallen Adam in the wilderness,<br /> -Aware of naught but of the thing withdrawn.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">-87-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Talisman" id="A_Talisman"><i>A Talisman</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Take</span> Temperance to thy breast,<br /> -While yet is the hour of choosing,<br /> -As arbitress exquisite<br /> -Of all that shall thee betide;<br /> -For better than fortune's best<br /> -Is mastery in the using,<br /> -And sweeter than any thing sweet<br /> -The art to lay it aside!<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">-88-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Heathenesse" id="Heathenesse"><i>Heathenesse</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">No</span> round boy-satyr, racing from the mere,<br /> -Shakes on the mountain lawn his dripping head<br /> -This many a May, your sister being dead,<br /> -Ye Christian folk! your sister great and dear.<br /> -To breathe her name, to think how sad-sincere<br /> -Was all her searching, straying, dreaming, dread,<br /> -How of her natural night was Plato bred<br /> -(A star to keep the ways of honour clear),<br /> -<br /> -Who will not sigh for her? who can forget<br /> -Not only unto campèd Israel,<br /> -Nor martyr-maids that as a bridegroom met<br /> -The Roman lion's roar, salvation fell?<br /> -To Him be most of praise that He is yet<br /> -Your God through gods not inaccessible.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">-89-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="For_Izaak_Walton" id="For_Izaak_Walton"><i>For Izaak Walton</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Can</span> trout allure the rod of yore<br /> -In Itchen stream to dip?<br /> -Or lover of her banks restore<br /> -That sweet Socratic lip?<br /> -Old fishing and wishing<br /> -Are over many a year.<br /> -Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear.<br /> -<br /> -Again the foamy shallows fill,<br /> -The quiet clouds amass,<br /> -And soft as bees by Catherine Hill<br /> -At dawn the anglers pass,<br /> -And follow the hollow,<br /> -In boughs to disappear.<br /> -Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear.<br /> -<br /> -Nay, rise not now, nor with them take<br /> -One amber-freckled fool!<br /> -Thy sons to-day bring each an ache<br /> -For ancient arts to cool.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">-90-</a></span><br /> -But, father, lie rather<br /> -Unhurt and idle near;<br /> -Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear.<br /> -<br /> -While thought of thee to men is yet<br /> -A sylvan playfellow,<br /> -Ne'er by thy marble they forget<br /> -In pious cheer to go.<br /> -As air falls, the prayer falls<br /> -O'er kingly Winchester:<br /> -Oh, hush thee, Oh, hush thee! heart innocent and dear.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">-91-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Fifteen_Epitaphs" id="Fifteen_Epitaphs"><i>Fifteen Epitaphs</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">I</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">I laid</span> the strewings, darling, on thine urn;<br /> -I lowered the torch, I poured the cup to Dis.<br /> -Now hushaby, my little child, and learn<br /> -Long sleep how good it is.<br /> -<br /> -In vain thy mother prays, wayfaring hence,<br /> -Peace to her heart, where only heartaches dwell;<br /> -But thou more blest, O mild intelligence!<br /> -Forget her, and Farewell.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">II</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Gentle</span> Grecian passing by,<br /> -Father of thy peace am I:<br /> -Wouldst thou now, in memory,<br /> -Give a soldier's flower to me,<br /> -Choose the standard named of yore<br /> -Beautiful Worth-dying-for,<br /> -That shall wither not, but wave<br /> -All the year above my grave.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">-92-</a></span></p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">III</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Light</span> thou hast of the moon,<br /> -Shade of the dammar-pine,<br /> -Here on thy hillside bed;<br /> -Fair befall thee, O fair<br /> -Lily of womanhood,<br /> -Patient long, and at last<br /> -Here on thy hillside bed,<br /> -Happier: ah, Blæsilla!<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">IV</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Me</span>, deep-tressèd meadows, take to your loyal keeping,<br /> -Hard by the swish of sickles ever in Aulon sleeping,<br /> -Philophron, old and tired, and glad to be done with reaping!<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">V</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Upon</span> thy level tomb, till windy winter morn,<br /> -The fallen leaves delay;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">-93-</a></span><br /> -But plain and pure their trace is, when themselves are torn<br /> -From delicate frost away.<br /> -<br /> -As here to transient frost the absent leaf is, such<br /> -Thou wert and art to me:<br /> -So on my passing life is thy long-passèd touch,<br /> -O dear Alcithoë!<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">VI</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Hail</span>, and be of comfort, thou pious Xeno,<br /> -Late the urn of many a kinsman wreathing;<br /> -On thine own shall even the stranger offer<br /> -Plentiful myrtle.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">VII</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Here</span> lies one in the earth who scarce of the earth was moulded,<br /> -Wise Æthalides' son, himself no lover of study,<br /> -Cnopus, asleep, indoors: the young invincible runner.<br /> -They from the cliff footpath that see on the grave we made him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">-94-</a></span><br /> -Tameless, slant in the wind, the bare and beautiful iris,<br /> -Stop short, full of delight, and cry out: "See, it is Cnopus<br /> -Runs, with white throat forward, over the sands to Chalcis!"<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">VIII</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Ere</span> the Ferryman from the coast of spirits<br /> -Turn the diligent oar that brought thee thither,<br /> -Soul, remember: and leave a kiss upon it<br /> -For thy desolate father, for thy sister,<br /> -Whichsoever be first to cross hereafter.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">IX</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Jaffa</span> ended, Cos begun<br /> -Thee, Aristeus. Thou wert one<br /> -Fit to trample out the sun:<br /> -Who shall think thine ardours are<br /> -But a cinder in a jar?<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">X</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Two</span> white heads the grasses cover:<br /> -Dorcas, and her lifelong lover.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">-95-</a></span><br /> -While they graced their country closes<br /> -Simply as the brooks and roses,<br /> -Where was lot so poor, so trodden,<br /> -But they cheered it of a sudden?<br /> -Fifty years at home together,<br /> -Hand in hand, they went elsewhither,<br /> -Then first leaving hearts behind<br /> -Comfortless. Be thou as kind.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">XI</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">As</span> wind that wasteth the unmarried rose,<br /> -And mars the golden breakers in the bay,<br /> -Hurtful and sweet from heaven for ever blows<br /> -Sad thought that roughens all our quiet day;<br /> -<br /> -And elder poets envy, while they weep,<br /> -Ion, whom first the gods to covert brought,<br /> -Here under inland olives laid asleep,<br /> -Most wise, most happy, having done with thought.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">XII</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Cows</span> in the narrowing August marshes,<br /> -Cows in a stretch of water<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">-96-</a></span><br /> -Motionless,<br /> -Neck on neck overlapped and drooping;<br /> -<br /> -These in their troubled and dumb communion,<br /> -Thou on the steep bank yonder,<br /> -Pastora!<br /> -No more ever to lead and love them,<br /> -<br /> -No more ever. Thine innocent mourners<br /> -Pass thy tree in the evening<br /> -Heavily,<br /> -Hearing another herd-girl calling.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">XIII</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Go</span> you by with gentle tread.<br /> -This was Paula, who is dead:<br /> -Dear grey eyes that had a look<br /> -Like some rock-o'ershadowed brook,<br /> -Voice upon the ear to cling<br /> -Sweeter than the cithern string.<br /> -With that spirit shy and fair<br /> -Quietly and unaware<br /> -Climbing past the starry van<br /> -Went, for triple talisman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">-97-</a></span><br /> -They to whom the heavens must ope:<br /> -Candour, Chastity, and Hope.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">XIV</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Take</span> from an urn my vow and salutation<br /> -Unto the land I never now shall see:<br /> -Laid here exiled, my heart in desolation<br /> -Frets like a child against her breast to be.<br /> -<br /> -Far from the sky, a rose that opes at even<br /> -(One liquid star for dewdrop on the rose),<br /> -Far from the shower that nesting low in heaven<br /> -Thrice in an hour light-wingèd comes and goes,<br /> -<br /> -Far from my lost and blessèd and belovèd<br /> -Nightfall of June beside the Rhodian wave,<br /> -Mine is the pain another isle to covet,<br /> -Though all in vain, for gardener of my grave.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 10em">XV</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Praise</span> thou the Mighty Mother for what is wrought, not me,<br /> -A nameless nothing-caring head asleep against her knee.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">-98-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Deo_Optimo_Maximo" id="Deo_Optimo_Maximo"><i><span lang="la">Deo Optimo Maximo</span></i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">All</span> else for use, One only for desire;<br /> -Thanksgiving for the good, but thirst for Thee:<br /> -Up from the best, whereof no man need tire,<br /> -Impel Thou me.<br /> -<br /> -Delight is menace if Thou brood not by,<br /> -Power a quicksand, Fame a gathering jeer.<br /> -Oft as the morn (though none of earth deny<br /> -These three are dear),<br /> -<br /> -Wash me of them, that I may be renewed,<br /> -And wander free amid my freeborn joys:<br /> -Oh, close my hand upon Beatitude!<br /> -Not on her toys.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">-99-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Charista_Musing" id="Charista_Musing"><i>Charista Musing</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Moveless</span>, on the marge of a sunny cornfield,<br /> -Rapt in sudden revery while thou standest,<br /> -Like the sheaves, in beautiful Doric yellow<br /> -Clad to the ankle,<br /> -<br /> -Oft to thee with delicate hasty footstep<br /> -So I steal, and suffer because I find thee<br /> -Inly flown, and only a fallen feather<br /> -Left of my darling.<br /> -<br /> -Give me back thy wakening breath, thy ringlets<br /> -Fragrant as the vine of the bean in blossom,<br /> -And those eyes of violet dusk and daylight<br /> -Under sea-water,<br /> -<br /> -Eyes too far away, and too full of longing!<br /> -Yes: and go not heavenward where I lose thee,<br /> -Go not, go not whither I cannot follow,<br /> -Being but earthly.<br /> -<br /> -Willing swallow poisèd upon my finger,<br /> -Little wild-wing ever from me escaping,<br /> -For the care thou art to me, I thy lover<br /> -Love thee, and fear thee.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">-100-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Still_of_the_Year" id="The_Still_of_the_Year"><i>The Still of the Year</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Up</span> from the willow-root<br /> -Subduing agonies leap;<br /> -The field-mouse and the purple moth<br /> -Turn over amid their sleep;<br /> -The icicled rocks aloft<br /> -Burn amber and blue alway,<br /> -And trickling and tinkling<br /> -The snows of the drift decay.<br /> -Oh, mine is the head must hang<br /> -And share the immortal pang!<br /> -Winter or spring is fair;<br /> -Thaw's hard to bear.<br /> -Heigho! my heart's sick.<br /> -<br /> -Sweet is cherry-time, sweet<br /> -A shower, a bobolink,<br /> -And trillium, fain far under<br /> -Her cloistering leaf to shrink;<br /> -But here in the vast, unborn,<br /> -Is the bitterest place to be,<br /> -Till striving and longing<br /> -Shall quicken the earth and me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">-101-</a></span><br /> -What change inscrutable<br /> -Is nigh us, we know not well;<br /> -Gone is the strength to sigh<br /> -Either to live or die.<br /> -Heigho! my heart's sick.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">-102-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Footnote_to_a_Famous_Lyric" id="A_Footnote_to_a_Famous_Lyric"><i>A Footnote to a Famous Lyric</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">True</span> love's own talisman, which here<br /> -Shakespeare and Sidney failed to teach,<br /> -A steel-and-velvet Cavalier<br /> -Gave to our Saxon speech:<br /> -<br /> -Chief miracle of theme and touch<br /> -That all must envy and adore:<br /> -<i>I could not love thee, dear, so much,<br /> -Loved I not Honour more.</i><br /> -<br /> -No critic born since Charles was King<br /> -But sighed in smiling, as he read:<br /> -"Here's theft supreme of everything<br /> -A poet might have said!"<br /> -<br /> -Young knight and wit and beau, who won<br /> -Mid war's upheaval, ladies' praise,<br /> -Was't well of you, ere you had done,<br /> -To blight our modern bays?<br /> -<br /> -Oh, yet to you, whose random hand<br /> -Struck from the dark whole gems like these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">-103-</a></span><br /> -(Archaic beauty, never planned<br /> -Nor reared by wan degrees,<br /> -<br /> -Which leaves an artist poor, and Art<br /> -An earldom richer all her years);<br /> -To you, dead on your shield apart,<br /> -Be "<i><span lang="la">Ave</span>!</i>" passed in tears.<br /> -<br /> -'Twas virtue's breath inflamed your lyre:<br /> -Heroic from the heart it ran;<br /> -Nor for the shedding of such fire<br /> -Lived, since, a manlier man.<br /> -<br /> -And till your strophe sweet and bold<br /> -So lovely aye, so lonely long,<br /> -Love's self outdo, dear Lovelace! hold<br /> -The parapets of Song.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">-104-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="TWP" id="TWP"><i>T.W.P.</i></a></h2> - -<p class="lg"><i>A.D. MDCCCXIX-MDCCCXCII</i></p> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Friend</span> who hast gone, and dost enrich to-day<br /> -New England brightly building far away,<br /> -And crown her liberal walk<br /> -With company more choice, and sweeter talk,<br /> -<br /> -Look not on Fame, but Peace; and in a bower<br /> -Receive at last her fulness and her power:<br /> -Nor wholly, pure of heart!<br /> -Forget thy few, who would be where thou art.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">-105-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Summum_Bonum" id="Summum_Bonum"><i>Summum Bonum</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Waiting</span> on Him who knows us and our need,<br /> -Most need have we to dare not, nor desire,<br /> -But as He giveth, softly to suspire<br /> -Against His gift with no inglorious greed,<br /> -For this is joy, though still our joys recede;<br /> -And, as in octaves of a noble lyre,<br /> -To move our minds with His, and clearer, higher,<br /> -Sound forth our fate: for this is strength indeed.<br /> -<br /> -Thanks to His love let earth and man dispense<br /> -In smoke of worship when the heart is stillest,<br /> -A praying more than prayer: "Great good have I,<br /> -Till it be greater good to lay it by;<br /> -Nor can I lose peace, power, permanence,<br /> -For these smile on me from the thing Thou willest!"<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">-106-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="When_on_the_Marge_of_Evening" id="When_on_the_Marge_of_Evening"><i>When on the Marge of Evening</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">When</span> on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,<br /> -And winds of dreamy odour are loosened from afar,<br /> -Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken,<br /> -On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning's dying star,<br /> -<br /> -I think of thee (O mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!),<br /> -Whose greater noonday splendours the many share and see,<br /> -While sacred and for ever, some perfect law is keeping<br /> -The late, the early twilight, alone and sweet for me.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">-107-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Hylas" id="Hylas"><i>Hylas</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -(<span class="smcap">There's</span> a thrush on the under bough<br /> -Fluting evermore and now:<br /> -"<i>Keep—young!</i>" but who knows how?)<br /> -<br /> -Jar in arm, they bade him rove<br /> -Through the alder's long alcove,<br /> -Where the hid spring musically<br /> -Gushes to the ample valley.<br /> -<br /> -Down the woodland corridor,<br /> -Odours deepened more and more;<br /> -Blossomed dogwood in the briars<br /> -Struck her faint delicious fires;<br /> -Miles of April passed between<br /> -Crevices of closing green,<br /> -And the moth, the violet-lover,<br /> -By the wellside saw him hover.<br /> -<br /> -Ah, the slippery sylvan dark!<br /> -Never after shall he mark<br /> -(On his drownèd cheek down-sinking),<br /> -Noisy ploughman drinking, drinking.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">-108-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Quit of serving is that wild<br /> -Absent and bewitchèd child,<br /> -Unto action, age, and danger<br /> -Thrice a thousand years a stranger.<br /> -<br /> -Fathoms low, the naiads sing,<br /> -In a birthday welcoming;<br /> -Water-white their breasts, and o'er him,<br /> -Water-grey, their eyes adore him.<br /> -<br /> -(There's a thrush on the under bough<br /> -Fluting evermore and now:<br /> -"<i>Keep—young!</i>" but who knows how?)<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">-109-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Nocturne" id="Nocturne"><i>Nocturne</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> sun that hurt his lovers from on high<br /> -Is fallen; she more merciful is nigh,<br /> -The blessèd one whose beauty's even glow<br /> -Gave never wound to any shepherd's eye.<br /> -Above our lonely boat in shallows drifting,<br /> -Alone her plaintive form ascends the sky.<br /> -<br /> -Oh, sing! the water-golds are deepening now,<br /> -Almost a hush is on the aspen bough;<br /> -Her light caresseth thine, as saint to saint<br /> -Sweet interchanged adorings may allow:<br /> -Sing, Eunoë, that lily throat uplifting:<br /> -They are so like, the holy Moon and thou!<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">-110-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="To_Henry_Howard_Earl_of_Surrey" id="To_Henry_Howard_Earl_of_Surrey"><i>To Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Young</span> father-poet! much in you I praise<br /> -Adventure high, romantic, vehement,<br /> -All with inviolate honour sealed and blent<br /> -To the axe-edge that cleft your soldier bays;<br /> -Your friendships too, your follies, whims, and frays;<br /> -And most, that verse of strict imperious bent<br /> -Heard sweetly as from some old harper's tent,<br /> -And clanging in the listener's brain for days.<br /> -<br /> -At Framlingham to-night if there should be<br /> -No guest beyond a sea-born wind that sighs,<br /> -No guard save moonlight's crossed and trailing spears,<br /> -And I, your pilgrim, call you, Oh, let me<br /> -In at the gate! and smile into the eyes<br /> -That sought you, Surrey, down three hundred years.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">-111-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Planting_the_Poplar" id="Planting_the_Poplar"><i>Planting the Poplar</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Because</span> thou'rt not an oak<br /> -To breast the thunder-stroke,<br /> -Or flamy-fruited yew<br /> -Darker than Time, how few<br /> -Of birds or men or kine<br /> -Will love this throne of thine,<br /> -Scant Poplar, without shade<br /> -Inhospitably made!<br /> -Yet, branches never parted<br /> -From their straight secret bole,<br /> -Yet, sap too single-hearted!<br /> -Prosper as my soul.<br /> -<br /> -In loneliness, in quaint<br /> -Perpetual constraint,<br /> -In gallant poverty,<br /> -A girt and hooded tree,<br /> -See if against the gale<br /> -Our leafage can avail:<br /> -Lithe, equal, naked, true,<br /> -Rise up as spirits do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">-112-</a></span><br /> -And be a spirit crying<br /> -Before the folk that dream!<br /> -My slender early-dying<br /> -Poplar, by the stream.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">-113-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="To_One_who_would_not_Spare_Himself" id="To_One_who_would_not_Spare_Himself"><i>To One who would not Spare Himself</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">A censer</span> playing from a heart all fire,<br /> -A flushing, racing, singing mountain stream<br /> -Thou art; and dear to us of dull desire<br /> -In thy far-going dream.<br /> -<br /> -Full to the grave be thy too fleeting way,<br /> -And full thereafter: few that know thee best<br /> -Will grudge it so, for neither thou nor they<br /> -Can mate thy soul with rest.<br /> -<br /> -God put thee from the laws of Time adrift.<br /> -Lo, He who moves without delay or haste,<br /> -Far less may love the sheaves of ghostly thrift,<br /> -Than some diviner waste.<br /> -<br /> -Be mine to ride in joy, ere thou art gone,<br /> -The flame, the torrent, which is one with thee!<br /> -Saint, from this pool of dying sweep us on<br /> -Where Life must long to be.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">-114-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Winter_Peace" id="Winter_Peace"><i>Winter Peace</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">April</span> seemed a restless pain,<br /> -June a phantom in the rain;<br /> -Weary Autumn without grain<br /> -Turned her home, full of tears.<br /> -O my year, the most in vain<br /> -Of the years!<br /> -<br /> -While the furrowed field was red,<br /> -While the roses rioted,<br /> -While a leaf was left to shed,<br /> -There was storm in the air.<br /> -Now that troubled heart is dead,<br /> -All is fair.<br /> -<br /> -'Neath a glow of copper-grey<br /> -Spreads the stubble far away,<br /> -And the hilltop cedars play<br /> -Interludes in accord,<br /> -And the sun adorns the day<br /> -Like a sword.<br /> -<br /> -Even, usual, and slow,<br /> -Blue enchanted breakers go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">-115-</a></span><br /> -Over carmine reefs in snow,<br /> -With a sail in the lee:<br /> -There's the godhead that we know<br /> -On the sea.<br /> -<br /> -Ah, let be a promise vast<br /> -So mysteriously downcast!<br /> -I will love this year that passed<br /> -To her grave in the wild,<br /> -And is clear of stain at last<br /> -As a child.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">-116-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Sleep" id="Sleep"><i>Sleep</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">O glorious</span> tide, O hospitable tide<br /> -On whose mysterious breast my head hath lain,<br /> -Lest I, all eased of wounds and washed of stain<br /> -Through holy hours, be yet unsatisfied,<br /> -Loose me betimes: for in my soul abide<br /> -Urgings of memory, and exile's pain<br /> -Weighs on me, as the spirit of one slain<br /> -May throb for the old strife wherein he died.<br /> -<br /> -Often and evermore, across the sea<br /> -Of dark and dreams, to fatherlands of Day,<br /> -Oh, speed me: as that outworn King erewhile<br /> -By kind Phæacians borne ashore, so me,<br /> -Thy loving healèd ward, fail not to lay<br /> -Beneath the olive boughs of mine own isle.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">-117-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Writ_in_my_Lord_Clarendons_History_of_the_Rebellion" id="Writ_in_my_Lord_Clarendons_History_of_the_Rebellion"><i>Writ in my Lord Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">How</span> life hath cheapen'd, and how blank<br /> -The Worlde is! like a fen<br /> -Where long ago unstainèd sank<br /> -The starrie gentlemen:<br /> -Since Marston Moor and Newbury drank<br /> -King Charles his gentlemen.<br /> -<br /> -If Fate in any air accords<br /> -What Fate deny'd, Oh, then<br /> -I ask to be among your Swordes,<br /> -My joyous gentlemen;<br /> -Towards Honour's heaven to goe, and towards<br /> -King Charles his gentlemen!<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">-118-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="In_a_February_Garden" id="In_a_February_Garden"><i>In a February Garden</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">One</span> rose till after snowtime<br /> -O'erlooked the sodden grass;<br /> -Now crocuses are twenty<br /> -With spear and torch a plenty,<br /> -To keep our Candlemas.<br /> -<br /> -So thin that winter greyness,<br /> -So light that sleep forlorn,<br /> -No seventh week uncloses<br /> -Between the martyr roses<br /> -And crocus newly born.<br /> -<br /> -All doubt is hushed for ever,<br /> -Confuted without sound,<br /> -All ruin featly ended,<br /> -When bulbs begin their splendid<br /> -Gay muster overground;<br /> -<br /> -And mid the golden heralds<br /> -That ride the icy breeze,<br /> -Man, too, divinely vernal,<br /> -Storms into life eternal<br /> -Victoriously with these.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">-119-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -O Beauty, O Persistence<br /> -Ineffable and strong!<br /> -Would we had borne with Sorrow<br /> -In her unlasting morrow:<br /> -And Death was not for long.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">-120-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Valediction" id="A_Valediction"><i>A Valediction</i></a></h2> - -<p class="lg"><i>R.L.S.: A.D. MDCCCXCIV</i></p> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">When</span> from the vista of the Book I shrink,<br /> -From lauded pens that earn ignoble wage<br /> -Begetting nothing joyous, nothing sage,<br /> -Nor keep with Shakespeare's use one golden link;<br /> -When heavily my sanguine spirits sink<br /> -To read too plain on each impostor page<br /> -Only of kings the broken lineage,—<br /> -Well for my peace if then on thee I think,<br /> -<br /> -Louis, our priest of letters, and our knight<br /> -With whose familiar baldric Hope is girt,<br /> -From whose young hands she bears the Grail away.<br /> -All glad, all great! Truer because thou wert,<br /> -I am and must be; and in thy known light<br /> -Go down to dust, content with this my day.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">-121-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Footpath_Morality" id="A_Footpath_Morality"><i>A Footpath Morality</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Along</span> the Hills, height unto height<br /> -Tosses the dappled light,<br /> -Rills in a torrent flow,<br /> -And cuckoo calls beyond the third hedgerow.<br /> -Young winds nothing can quell<br /> -Scale the wild-chestnut citadel,<br /> -Again to make<br /> -Its thousand faëry white pagodas shake.<br /> -Up many a lane<br /> -The blue vervain<br /> -A coverlid hath featly spread<br /> -For the bees' bed,<br /> -That those tired sylvan thieves<br /> -May lie most soft on the sweet and scalloped leaves.<br /> -And by to-morrow morn<br /> -Bright agrimony, in the thickets born,<br /> -Will high uphold<br /> -Each cinquefoil of plain gold;<br /> -Dogwood in white will hood herself apace,<br /> -And betony flaunt a varied gypsy mace,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">-122-</a></span><br /> -And copper pimpernel, true as a clock,<br /> -On some waste common, by a rock<br /> -Her small dark-centred wheel draw in<br /> -Long, long ere dusk begin.<br /> -<br /> -This day<br /> -Of infinite May<br /> -Is far more fitly yours than ours,<br /> -O spirit-bodied flowers!<br /> -What heart disordered sore<br /> -Comes through the greenwood door,<br /> -Shall for your sake<br /> -Find sap and soil and dew, and shall not break;<br /> -And hearts beneath no ban<br /> -Will in your sight some penance do for man,<br /> -Poor lagging man, content to be<br /> -Sick with the impact of eternity,<br /> -Who might keep step with you in the low grass,<br /> -Best part of one strange pageant made in joy to pass!<br /> -Not ye, not ye, the privilege disown<br /> -To flourish fair and fall fair, and be strewn<br /> -Deep in that Will of God, where blend<br /> -The origin of beauty and the end.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">-123-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Light_of_the_House" id="The_Light_of_the_House"><i>The Light of the House</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Beyond</span> the cheat of Time, here where you died, you live;<br /> -You pace the garden walk, secure and sensitive;<br /> -You linger on the stair: Love's lonely pulses leap!<br /> -The harpsichord is shaken, the dogs look up from sleep.<br /> -<br /> -Here, after all the years, you keep the heirdom still;<br /> -The youth and joy in you achieve their olden will,<br /> -Unbidden, undeterred, with waking sense adored;<br /> -And still the house is happy that hath so dear a lord.<br /> -<br /> -To every inmate heart, confirmed in cheer you brought,<br /> -Your name is as a spell midway of speech and thought,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">-124-</a></span><br /> -And to a wonted guest (not awestruck heretofore),<br /> -The sunshine that was you floods all the open door.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">-125-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="An_Outdoor_Litany" id="An_Outdoor_Litany"><i>An Outdoor Litany</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<i><span lang="la">Donec misereatur nostri</span>.</i><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">The</span> spur is red upon the briar,<br /> -The sea-kelp whips the wave ashore;<br /> -The wind shakes out the coloured fire<br /> -From lamps a-row on the sycamore;<br /> -The bluebird with his flitting note<br /> -Shows to wild heaven his wedding-coat;<br /> -The mink is busy; herds again<br /> -Go hillward in the honeyed rain;<br /> -The midges meet. I cry to Thee<br /> -Whose heart<br /> -Remembers each of these: Thou art<br /> -My God who hast forgotten me!<br /> -<br /> -Bright from the mast, a scarf unwound,<br /> -The lined gulls in the offing ride;<br /> -Along an edge of marshy ground<br /> -The shad-bush enters like a bride.<br /> -Yon little clouds are washed of care<br /> -That climb the blue New England air,<br /> -And almost merrily withal<br /> -The hyla tunes at evenfall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">-126-</a></span><br /> -His oboe in a mossy tree.<br /> -So too,<br /> -Am I not Thine? Arise, undo<br /> -This fear Thou hast forgotten me.<br /> -<br /> -Happy the vernal rout that come<br /> -To their due offices to-day,<br /> -And strange, if in Thy mercy's sum,<br /> -Excluded man alone decay.<br /> -I ask no triumph, ask no joy,<br /> -Save leave to live, in law's employ.<br /> -As to a weed, to me but give<br /> -Thy sap! lest aye inoperative<br /> -Here in the Pit my strength shall be:<br /> -And still<br /> -Help me endure the Pit, until<br /> -Thou wilt not have forgotten me.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">-127-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Of_Joans_Youth" id="Of_Joans_Youth"><i>Of Joan’s Youth</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">I would</span> unto my fair restore<br /> -A simple thing:<br /> -The flushing cheek she had before!<br /> -Out-velveting<br /> -No more, no more,<br /> -On our sad shore,<br /> -The carmine grape, the moth's auroral wing.<br /> -<br /> -Ah, say how winds in flooding grass<br /> -Unmoor the rose;<br /> -Or guileful ways the salmon pass<br /> -To sea, disclose:<br /> -For so, alas,<br /> -With Love, alas,<br /> -With fatal, fatal Love a girlhood goes.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">-128-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="In_a_Brecon_Valley" id="In_a_Brecon_Valley"><i>In a Brecon Valley</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em"><span lang="la"><i>Patulis ubi vallibus errans</i></span><br /> -<i>Subjacet aëriis montibus Isca pater.</i><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 10em">H.V. <i>Ad Posteros.</i></span></span><br /> -</p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">I</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">I followed</span> thee, wild stream of Paradise,<br /> -White Usk, for ever showering the sunned bee<br /> -In the pink chestnut and the hawthorn tree;<br /> -And all along had magical surmise<br /> -Of mountains fluctuant in those vesper skies,<br /> -As unto mermen, caverned in mid-sea,<br /> -Far up the vast green reaches, soundlessly<br /> -The giant breakers form, and fall, and rise.<br /> -<br /> -Above thy poet's dust, by yonder yew,<br /> -Ere distance perished, ere a star began,<br /> -His clear monastic measure, heard of few,<br /> -Through lonelier glens of mine own being ran;<br /> -And thou to me wert dear, because I knew<br /> -The God who made thee gracious, and the man.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">-129-</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">II</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">If</span>, by that second lover's power controlled,<br /> -In sweet symbolic rite thy breath o'erfills<br /> -Fields of no war with vagrant daffodils,<br /> -From distance unto distance trailing gold;<br /> -If dazzling sands or thickets thee enfold,<br /> -Transfigured Usk, where from their mossy sills<br /> -Grey hamlets kiss thee, and by herded hills<br /> -Diviner run thy shallows than of old;—<br /> -<br /> -If intellectual these, Oh! name my Vaughan<br /> -Creator too: and close his memory keep<br /> -Who from thy fountain, kind to him, hath drawn<br /> -Birth, energy, and joy; devotion deep;<br /> -A play of thought more mystic than the dawn,<br /> -And death at home; and centuried sylvan sleep.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">-130-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="A_Song_of_Far_Travel" id="A_Song_of_Far_Travel"><i>A Song of Far Travel</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Many</span> a time some drowsy oar from the nearer bank invited,<br /> -Crossed a narrow stream, and bore in among the reeds moon-lighted,<br /> -There to leave me on a shore no ferryman hath sighted.<br /> -<br /> -Many a time a mountain stile, dark and bright with sudden wetting,<br /> -Lured my vagrant foot the while 'twixt uplifting and down-setting,—<br /> -Whither? Thousand mile on mile, beyond the last forgetting.<br /> -<br /> -Long by hidden ways I wend (past occasion grown a ranger);<br /> -Yet enchantment, like a friend, takes from death the tang of danger:<br /> -Hardly river or road can end where I need step a stranger.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">-131-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Spring" id="Spring"><i>Spring</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"><i>With a difference.</i>—<span class="smcap">Hamlet.</span></p> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Again</span> the bloom, the northward flight,<br /> -The fount freed at its silver height,<br /> -And down the deep woods to the lowest<br /> -The fragrant shadows scarred with light.<br /> -<br /> -O inescapeable joy of Spring!<br /> -For thee the world shall leap and sing;<br /> -But by her darkened door thou goest<br /> -Henceforward as a spectral thing.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">-132-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="The_Colour-Bearer" id="The_Colour-Bearer"><i>The Colour-Bearer</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Thy</span> charge was: "Hold My banner<br /> -Against our hidden foe;<br /> -To war where sounds no manner<br /> -Of glorious music, go!"<br /> -And like Thy word my answer all joyless: "Be it so."<br /> -<br /> -Ah, not to brave Thy censure<br /> -But win Thy smile of light,<br /> -My heart of misadventure<br /> -Will end in the losing fight,<br /> -And lie out yonder, wattled with wounds from left to right.<br /> -<br /> -The day will pass of torment,<br /> -The evenfall be sweet<br /> -When I shall wear for garment<br /> -The nakedness of defeat.<br /> -But when afield Thou comest, and look'st in vain to meet<br /> -<br /> -That eagle of the wartime,<br /> -That oriflamme, outrolled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">-133-</a></span><br /> -With strength of staff aforetime,<br /> -With cleanly and costly fold,—<br /> -Ride on, ride on! and seek me with lanthorns through the cold,<br /> -<br /> -And take from me (turned donor<br /> -That night on blood-soaked sand),<br /> -The stick and rag of Honour<br /> -There safe in a stiffened hand,<br /> -Not left, not lost, nor ever a spoil in the victor's land.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">-134-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Sanctuary" id="Sanctuary"><i>Sanctuary</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">High</span> above hate I dwell:<br /> -O storms! farewell.<br /> -Though at my sill your daggered thunders play<br /> -Lawless and loud to-morrow as to-day,<br /> -To me they sound more small<br /> -Than a young fay's footfall:<br /> -Soft and far-sunken, forty fathoms low<br /> -In Long Ago,<br /> -And winnowed into silence on that wind<br /> -Which takes wars like a dust, and leaves but love behind.<br /> -<br /> -Hither Felicity<br /> -Doth climb to me,<br /> -And bank me in with turf and marjoram<br /> -Such as bees lip, or the new-weanèd lamb;<br /> -With golden barberry-wreath,<br /> -And bluets thick beneath;<br /> -One grosbeak, too, mid apple-buds a guest<br /> -With bud-red breast,<br /> -Is singing, singing! All the hells that rage<br /> -Float less than April fog below our hermitage.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">-135-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Emily_Bronte" id="Emily_Bronte"><i>Emily Brontë</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">What</span> sacramental hurt that brings<br /> -The terror of the truth of things<br /> -Had changed thee? Secret be it yet.<br /> -'Twas thine, upon a headland set,<br /> -To view no isles of man's delight,<br /> -With lyric foam in rainbow flight,<br /> -But all a-swing, a-gleam, mid slow uproar,<br /> -Black sea, and curved uncouth sea-bitten shore.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">-136-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Pascal" id="Pascal"><i>Pascal</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Thou</span> lovedst life, but not to brand it thine<br /> -(O rich in all forborne felicities!),<br /> -Nor use it with marauding power, to seize<br /> -And stain the sweet earth's blue horizon-line.<br /> -Virgin the grape might in the trellis twine<br /> -Where thou hadst long ago an hour of ease,<br /> -And foot of thine across the unpressed leas<br /> -Went light as some Idæan foot divine.<br /> -<br /> -Spirit so abstinent, in thy deeps lay<br /> -What passion of possession? Day by day<br /> -Was there no thirst upon thee, sharp and pure,<br /> -In forward sea-like surges unforgot?<br /> -Yes: and in life and death those joys endure<br /> -More blessedly, that men can name them not.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">-137-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Borderlands" id="Borderlands"><i>Borderlands</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Through</span> all the evening,<br /> -All the virginal long evening,<br /> -Down the blossomed aisle of April it is dread to walk alone;<br /> -For there the intangible is nigh, the lost is ever-during;<br /> -And who would suffer again beneath a too divine alluring,<br /> -Keen as the ancient drift of sleep on dying faces blown?<br /> -<br /> -Yet in the valley,<br /> -At a turn of the orchard alley,<br /> -When a wild aroma touched me in the moist and moveless air,<br /> -Like breath indeed from out Thee, or as airy vesture round Thee,<br /> -Then was it I went faintly, for fear I had nearly found Thee,<br /> -O Hidden, O Perfect, O Desired! O first and final Fair!<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">-138-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="Ode_for_a_Master_Mariner_Ashore" id="Ode_for_a_Master_Mariner_Ashore"><i>Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">There</span> in his room, whene'er the moon looks in,<br /> -To silver now a shell, and now a fin,<br /> -And o'er his chart glide like an argosy,<br /> -Quiet and old sits he.<br /> -Danger! he hath grown homesick for thy smile.<br /> -Where hidest thou the while, heart's boast,<br /> -Strange face of beauty sought and lost,<br /> -Star-face that lured him out from boyhood's isle?<br /> -<br /> -Blown clear from dull indoors, his dreams behold<br /> -Night-water smoke and sparkle as of old,<br /> -The taffrail lurch, the sheets triumphant toss<br /> -Their veering weight across.<br /> -On, on he wears, the seaman long exiled,<br /> -To lands where stunted cedars throw<br /> -A lace-like shadow over snow,<br /> -Or tropic fountains wash their agates wild.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">-139-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Again play up and down the briny spar<br /> -Odours of Surinam or Zanzibar,<br /> -Till blithely thence he ploughs, in visions new,<br /> -The Labradorian blue;<br /> -All homeless hurricanes about him break;<br /> -The purples of spent day he sees<br /> -From Samos to the Hebrides,<br /> -And drowned men dancing darkly in his wake.<br /> -<br /> -Where the small deadly foam-caps, well descried,<br /> -Top, tier on tier, the hundred-mountained tide,<br /> -Away, and far away, his barque is borne<br /> -Riding the noisy morn,<br /> -Plunges, and preens her wings, and laughs to know<br /> -The helm and tightening halyards still<br /> -Follow the urging of his will,<br /> -And scoff at sullen earth a league below.<br /> -<br /> -Alas! Fate bars him from his heirdom high,<br /> -And shackles him with many an inland tie,<br /> -And of his only wisdom makes a jibe<br /> -Amid an alien tribe:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">-140-</a></span><br /> -No wave abroad but moans his fallen state.<br /> -The trade-wind ranges now, the trade-wind roars!<br /> -Why is it on a yellowing page he pores?<br /> -Ah, why this hawser fast to a garden gate?<br /> -<br /> -Thou friend so long withdrawn, so deaf, so dim,<br /> -Familiar Danger, Oh, forget not him!<br /> -Repeat of thine evangel yet the whole<br /> -Unto his subject soul,<br /> -Who suffers no such palsy of her drouth,<br /> -Nor hath so tamely worn her chain,<br /> -But she may know that voice again,<br /> -And shake the reefs with answer of her mouth.<br /> -<br /> -And give him back, before his passion fail,<br /> -The singing cordage and the hollow sail,<br /> -And level with those ageing eyes let be<br /> -The bright unsteady sea;<br /> -And like a film remove from sense and brain<br /> -This pasture wall, these boughs that run<br /> -Their evening arches to the sun,<br /> -Yon hamlet spire across the sown champaign;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">-141-</a></span><br /> -<br /> -And on the shut space and the shallow hour,<br /> -Turn the great floods! and to thy spousal bower,<br /> -With rapt arrest and solemn loitering,<br /> -Him whom thou lovedst, bring:<br /> -That he, thy faithful one, with praising lip,<br /> -Not having, at the last, less grace<br /> -Of thee than had his roving race,<br /> -Sum up his strength to perish with a ship.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<h2><a name="OXFORD_AND_LONDON" id="OXFORD_AND_LONDON">OXFORD AND LONDON</a></h2> - -<p class="center lg"><b>XXVI SONNETS</b></p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">-145-</a></span></p> -<h2><a name="OXFORD" id="OXFORD">OXFORD</a></h2> - -<hr class="med" /> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="I_The_Tow-Path" id="I_The_Tow-Path"><span class="sm">I.</span> <i>The Tow-Path</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Furrow</span> to furrow, oar to oar succeeds,<br /> -Each length away, more bright, more exquisite;<br /> -The sister shells that hither, thither, flit<br /> -Strew the long stream like scattered maple-seeds.<br /> -A comrade on the marge now lags, now leads,<br /> -Who with short calls his pace doth intermit:<br /> -An angry Pan, afoot; but if he sits,<br /> -Auspicious Pan among the river reeds.<br /> -<br /> -West of the glowing hayricks, tawny black<br /> -Where waters by their warm escarpments run,<br /> -Two lovers, newly crossed from Kennington,<br /> -Print in the early dew a married track,<br /> -And drain the aroma'd eve, and spend the sun,<br /> -Ere in laborious health the crews come back.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">-146-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="II_Ad_Antiquarium" id="II_Ad_Antiquarium"><span class="sm">II.</span> <i>Ad Antiquarium</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">My</span> gentle Aubrey, who in everything<br /> -Hadst of thy city's youth so lovely lust,<br /> -Yet never lineal to her towers august<br /> -Thy spirit could fix, or perfectly upbring,<br /> -Sleep, sleep! I ope, not unremembering,<br /> -Thy comely manuscript, and interthrust<br /> -Find delicate hueless leaves more sad than dust,<br /> -Two centuries unkissed of any Spring.<br /> -<br /> -Filling a homesick page beneath a lime,<br /> -Thy mood beheld, as mine thy debtor's now,<br /> -The endless terraces of ended Time<br /> -Vague in green twilight. Goodly was release<br /> -Into that Past where these poor leaves, and thou,<br /> -Do freshen in the air of eldest peace.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">-147-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="III_Martyrs_Memorial" id="III_Martyrs_Memorial"><span class="sm">III.</span> <i>Martyrs’ Memorial</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Such</span> natural debts of love our Oxford knows,<br /> -So many ancient dues undesecrate,<br /> -I marvel how the landmark of a hate<br /> -For witness unto future time she chose;<br /> -How 'gainst her own corroborate ranks arose<br /> -The Three, in great denial only great,<br /> -For Art's enshrining! Thus, averted straight,<br /> -My soul to seek a holier captain goes:<br /> -<br /> -That sweet adventurer whom Truth befell<br /> -Whenas the synagogues were watching not;<br /> -Whose crystal name on royal Oriel<br /> -Hangs like a shield; who to an outland spot<br /> -Led hence, beholds his Star, and counts it well<br /> -To live of all his dear domain forgot.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">-148-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="IV_Parks_Road" id="IV_Parks_Road"><span class="sm">IV.</span> <i>Parks Road</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Viewed</span> yesterday, in sad elusive light,<br /> -These everlasting heptarchs, tree by tree,<br /> -Seemed filing off to exile, lingeringly,<br /> -Each with his giant falchion, kinless quite.<br /> -All the wild winter day and flooded night<br /> -They feigned to march far as the eye could see,<br /> -Through transient oceans plunging to the knee<br /> -Their centuried greaves, ebon and malachite.<br /> -<br /> -To-day, accustomed bole and branch all bare<br /> -Stand with old gems inlaid. Like coloured snow<br /> -Or vista'd flame along the drowsy air,<br /> -Their gold-green lichens stir and cling and glow.<br /> -What secret craftsmen painted them so fair?<br /> -Angels of Moisture and the Long Ago.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">-149-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="V_Tom" id="V_Tom"><span class="sm">V.</span> <i>Tom</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Hark!</span> the king bell, loud in his vesper choir.<br /> -As in between each golden roar doth come<br /> -That solemn, plangent, unregarded hum<br /> -Chiding the truant with archaic ire,<br /> -On Worcester mere far off, in elfin gyre<br /> -The wavelets laugh, and laughter showereth from<br /> -May's chestnut like a lampadarium<br /> -By Brasenose, with every point afire.<br /> -<br /> -Yet over all roofs to the uttermost,<br /> -Call, Shepherd dear, from thy dream-haunted ground:<br /> -For some there be, on whatsoever coast,<br /> -In midst of any morrow's ordered round,<br /> -Hear as of old (in earth and heaven an host!)<br /> -And like young lambs, leap homeward at the sound.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">-150-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="VI_On_the_Pre-Reformation_Churches_about_Oxford" id="VI_On_the_Pre-Reformation_Churches_about_Oxford"><span class="sm">VI.</span> <i>On the Pre-Reformation Churches about Oxford</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">I</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Imperial</span> Iffley, Cumnor bowered in green,<br /> -And Templar Sandford in the boatman's call,<br /> -And sweet-belled Appleton, and Elsfield wall<br /> -That dost upon adoring ivies lean;<br /> -Meek Binsey; Dorchester, where streams convene<br /> -Bidding on graves thy solemn shadow fall;<br /> -Clear Cassington, soaring perpetual,<br /> -Holton, and Hampton Poyle, and fanes between:<br /> -<br /> -If one of all in your sad courts that come<br /> -Belovèd and disparted! be your own,<br /> -Kin to the souls ye had, while yet endures<br /> -Some memory of a great communion known<br /> -At home in quarries of old Christendom,—<br /> -Ah, mark him: he will lay his cheek to yours.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">-151-</a></span></p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">II</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Is</span> this the end? Is this the pilgrim's day<br /> -For dread, for dereliction, and for tears?<br /> -Rather, from grass and air and many spheres<br /> -In prophecy his heart is called away;<br /> -And under English eaves, more still than they,<br /> -Far-off, incoming, wonderful, he hears<br /> -The long-arrested, the believing years<br /> -Carry the sea-wall! Shall he, sighing, say:<br /> -<br /> -"Farewell to Faith, for she is dead at best<br /> -Who had such beauty"? or, with spirit fain<br /> -To watch beside her darkened doors, go by<br /> -With a new psalm: "O banished Light so nigh!<br /> -Of them was I, who bore thee and who blest:<br /> -Even here remember me when thou shalt reign."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">-152-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="VII_A_December_Walk" id="VII_A_December_Walk"><span class="sm">VII.</span> <i>A December Walk</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Whithersoever</span> cold and fair ye flow,<br /> -Take me, O gentle moon and gentler wind,<br /> -Past Wyatt's cumbering portal, frost-entwined,<br /> -And Merton 'neath that huge tiara's glow,<br /> -And groves in bridal gossamer below<br /> -Saint Mary's armoured spire; and whence aligned<br /> -In altered eminence for dawn to find<br /> -Sleep the droll Cæsars, hooded with the snow.<br /> -<br /> -White sacraments of weather, shine on me!<br /> -Upbear my footfall and my fancy sift,<br /> -Lest either blemish an ensainted ground<br /> -Spread so with childhood. Bid with me, outbound,<br /> -On recollected wing mine angel drift<br /> -Across new spheres of immortality.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">-153-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="VIII_The_Old_Dial_of_Corpus" id="VIII_The_Old_Dial_of_Corpus"><span class="sm">VIII.</span> <i>The Old Dial of Corpus</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Warden</span> of hours and ages, here I dwell,<br /> -Who saw young Keble pass, with sighing shook<br /> -For good unborn; and towards a willow nook,<br /> -Pole, princely in the senate and the cell;<br /> -And doubting the near boom of Osney bell,<br /> -Turning on me that sweetly subtile look,<br /> -Erasmus, in his breast an Attic book:<br /> -Peacemakers all, their dreams to ashes fell.<br /> -<br /> -Naught steadfast may I image nor attain<br /> -Save steadfast labour; futile must I grope<br /> -After my god, like him, inconstant bright:<br /> -But sun and shade will unto you remain<br /> -Alternately a symbol and a hope,<br /> -Men, spirits! of Emmanuel your Light.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">-154-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="IX_Rooks_New_College_Gardens" id="IX_Rooks_New_College_Gardens"><span class="sm">IX.</span> <i>Rooks: New College Gardens</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Through</span> rosy cloud and over thorny towers,<br /> -Their wings with darkling autumn distance filled,<br /> -From Isis' valley border, many-hilled,<br /> -The rooks are crowding home as evening lowers:<br /> -Not for men only, and their musing hours<br /> -By battled walls did gracious Wykeham build<br /> -These dewy spaces early sown and stilled,<br /> -These dearest inland melancholy bowers.<br /> -<br /> -Blest birds! A book held open on the knee<br /> -Below, is all they guess of Adam's blight:<br /> -With surer art the while, and simpler rite,<br /> -They gather power in some monastic tree<br /> -Where breathe against their docile breasts by night<br /> -The scholar's star, the star of sanctity.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">-155-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="X_Above_Port_Meadow" id="X_Above_Port_Meadow"><span class="sm">X.</span> <i>Above Port Meadow</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> plain gives freedom. Hither from the town<br /> -How oft a dreamer and a book of yore<br /> -Escaped the lamplit Square, and heard no more<br /> -Inroll from Cowley turf the game's renown,<br /> -But bade the vernal sky with spices drown<br /> -His head by Plato's in the grass, before<br /> -Yon oar that's never old, the sunset oar,<br /> -At Medley Lock was laid reluctant down!<br /> -<br /> -So seeming far the confines and the crowd,<br /> -The gross routine, the cares that vex and tire,<br /> -From this large light, sad thoughts in it, high-driven,<br /> -Go happier than the inly-moving cloud<br /> -Who lets her vesture fall, a floss of fire,<br /> -Abstracted, on the ivory hills of heaven.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">-156-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="XI_Undertones_at_Magdalen" id="XI_Undertones_at_Magdalen"><span class="sm">XI.</span> <i>Undertones at Magdalen</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Fair</span> are the finer creature-sounds; of these<br /> -Is Magdalen full: her bees, the while they drop<br /> -Susurrant to the garth from weeds atop;<br /> -And round the priestless Pulpit, auguries<br /> -Of wrens in council from an hundred leas;<br /> -And merry fish of Cherwell, fain to stop<br /> -The water-plantain's way; and deer that crop<br /> -Delicious herbage under choral trees.<br /> -<br /> -The cry for silver and gold in Christendom<br /> -Without, threads not her silence and her dark.<br /> -Only against the isolate Tower there break<br /> -Low rhythmic murmurs of good men to come:<br /> -Invasive seas of hushed approach that make<br /> -Memorial music, would the ear but hark.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">-157-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="XII_A_Last_View" id="XII_A_Last_View"><span class="sm">XII.</span> <i>A Last View</i></a></h2> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">I</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Where</span> down the hill, across the hidden ford<br /> -Stretches the open aisle from scene to scene,<br /> -By halted horses silently we lean,<br /> -Gazing enchanted from our steeper sward.<br /> -How yon low loving skies of April hoard<br /> -A plot of pinnacles! and how with sheen<br /> -Of spike and ball her languid clouds between<br /> -Grey Oxford grandly rises riverward!<br /> -<br /> -Sweet on those dim long-dedicated walls<br /> -Silver as rain the frugal sunshine falls;<br /> -Slowly sad eyes resign them, bound afar.<br /> -Dear Beauty, dear Tradition, fare you well,<br /> -And powers that aye aglow in you, impel<br /> -Our quickening spirits from the slime we are.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">-158-</a></span></p> - - -<h3 class="nocenter msm tp"><span style="margin-left: 13em">II</span></h3> - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Stars</span> in the bosom of thy braided tide,<br /> -Soft air and ivy on thy gracile stone,<br /> -O Glory of the West, as thou wert sown,<br /> -Stand perfect: O miraculous, abide!<br /> -And still, for greatness flickering from thy side,<br /> -Eternal alchemist, evoke, enthrone<br /> -True heirs in true succession, later blown<br /> -From that same seed of fire which never died.<br /> -<br /> -Nor Love shall lack her solace, to behold<br /> -Ranged to the morrow's melancholy verge,<br /> -Thy lights uprisen in Thought's disclosing spaces;<br /> -And round some beacon-spirit, stable, old,<br /> -In radiant broad tumultuary surge<br /> -For ever, the young voices, the young faces.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">-159-</a></span></p> -<h2><a name="LONDON" id="LONDON">LONDON</a></h2> - - -<hr class="med" /> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="I_On_First_Entering_Westminster_Abbey" id="I_On_First_Entering_Westminster_Abbey"><span class="sm">I.</span> <i>On First Entering Westminster Abbey</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Holy</span> of England! since my light is short<br /> -And faint, Oh, rather by the sun anew<br /> -Of timeless passion set my dial true,<br /> -That with thy saints and thee I may consort;<br /> -And wafted in the cool enshadowed port<br /> -Of poets, seem a little sail long due,<br /> -And be as one the call of memory drew<br /> -Unto the saddle void since Agincourt.<br /> -<br /> -Not now for secular love's unquiet lease<br /> -Receive my soul, who rapt in thee erewhile<br /> -Hath broken tryst with transitory things;<br /> -But seal with her a marriage and a peace<br /> -Eternal, on thine Edward's altar isle,<br /> -Above the storm-spent sea of ended Kings.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">-160-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="II_Fog" id="II_Fog"><span class="sm">II.</span> <i>Fog</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Like</span> bodiless water passing in a sigh,<br /> -Through palsied streets the fatal shadows flow,<br /> -And in their sharp disastrous undertow<br /> -Suck in the morning sun, and all the sky.<br /> -The towery vista sinks upon the eye,<br /> -As if it heard the horns of Jericho,<br /> -Black and dissolved; nor could the founder, know<br /> -How what was built so bright should daily die.<br /> -<br /> -Thy mood with man's is broken and blent in,<br /> -City of Stains! and ache of thought doth drown<br /> -The natural light in which thy life began;<br /> -Great as thy dole is, smirchèd with his sin,<br /> -Greater and elder yet the love of man<br /> -Full in thy look, though the dark visor's down.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">-161-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="III_St_Peter-ad-Vincula" id="III_St_Peter-ad-Vincula"><span class="sm">III.</span> <i>St. Peter-ad-Vincula</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Too</span> well I know, pacing the place of awe,<br /> -Three Queens, young save in trouble, moulder by;<br /> -More in his halo, Monmouth's mocking eye,<br /> -The eagle Essex in a harpy's claw;<br /> -Seymour and Dudley, and stout heads that saw<br /> -Sundown of Scotland; how with treasons lie<br /> -White martyrdoms: rank in a company<br /> -Breaker and builder of the eternal Law.<br /> -<br /> -Oft as I come, the piteous garden-row<br /> -Of ruined roses hanging from the stem,<br /> -Where winds of old defeat yet batter them,<br /> -Infects me: suddenly must I depart,<br /> -Ere thought of man's injustice then and now<br /> -Add to these aisles one other broken heart.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">-162-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="IV_Strikers_in_Hyde_Park" id="IV_Strikers_in_Hyde_Park"><span class="sm">IV.</span> <i>Strikers in Hyde Park</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">A woof</span> reversed the fatal shuttles weave,<br /> -How slow! but never once they slip the thread.<br /> -Hither, upon the Georgian idlers' tread,<br /> -Up spacious ways the lindens interleave,<br /> -Clouding the royal air since yester-eve,<br /> -Come men bereft of time and scant of bread,<br /> -Loud, who were dumb, immortal, who were dead,<br /> -Through the cowed world their kingdom to retrieve.<br /> -<br /> -What ails thee, England? Altar, mart, and grange<br /> -Dream of the knife by night; not so, not so<br /> -The clear Republic waits the general throe,<br /> -Along her noonday mountains' open range.<br /> -God be with both! for one is young to know<br /> -The other's rote of evil and of change.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">-163-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="V_Changes_in_the_Temple" id="V_Changes_in_the_Temple"><span class="sm">V.</span> <i>Changes in the Temple</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> cry is at thy gates, long-lovèd ground,<br /> -Again: for oft ere now thy children went<br /> -Beggared and wroth, and parting greeting sent<br /> -Some old red alley with a dial crowned;<br /> -Some house of honour, in a glory bound<br /> -With lives and deaths of spirits excellent;<br /> -Some tree rude-taken from his kingly tent<br /> -Hard by a little fountain's friendly sound.<br /> -<br /> -Oh, for Virginius' hand, if only that<br /> -Maintain the whole, and spoil these spoilings soon!<br /> -Better the scowling Strand should lose, alas,<br /> -Her walled oasis, and where once it was<br /> -All mournful in the cleared quadrangle sat<br /> -Echo and ivy, and the loitering moon.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">-164-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="VI_The_Lights_of_London" id="VI_The_Lights_of_London"><span class="sm">VI.</span> <i>The Lights of London</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">The</span> evenfall, so slow on hills, hath shot<br /> -Far down into the valley's cold extreme,<br /> -Untimely midnight; spire and roof and stream<br /> -Like fleeing spectres, shudder and are not.<br /> -The Hampstead hollies, from their sylvan plot<br /> -Yet cloudless, lean to watch as in a dream,<br /> -From chaos climb with many a hasty gleam,<br /> -London, one moment fallen and forgot.<br /> -<br /> -Her booths begin to flare; and gases bright<br /> -Prick door and window; every street obscure<br /> -Sparkles and swarms with nothing true nor sure,<br /> -Full as a marsh of mist and winking light:<br /> -Heaven thickens over, Heaven that cannot cure<br /> -Her tear by day, her fevered smile by night.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">-165-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="VII_Doves" id="VII_Doves"><span class="sm">VII.</span> <i>Doves</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Ah</span>, if man's boast and man's advance be vain,<br /> -And yonder bells of Bow, loud-echoing home,<br /> -And the lone Tree, foreknow it, and the Dome,<br /> -That monstrous island of the middle main;<br /> -If each inheritor must sink again<br /> -Under his sires, as falleth where it clomb<br /> -Back on the gone wave the disheartened foam?—<br /> -I crossed Cheapside, and this was in my brain.<br /> -<br /> -What folly lies in forecasts and in fears!<br /> -Like a wide laughter sweet and opportune,<br /> -Wet from the fount, three hundred doves of Paul's<br /> -Shook their warm wings, drizzling the golden noon,<br /> -And in their rain-cloud vanished up the walls.<br /> -"God keeps," I said, "our little flock of years."<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">-166-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="VIII_In_the_Reading-Room_of_the_British_Museum" id="VIII_In_the_Reading-Room_of_the_British_Museum"><span class="sm">VIII.</span> <i>In the Reading-Room of the British Museum</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Praised</span> be the moon of books! that doth above<br /> -A world of men, the sunken Past behold,<br /> -And colour spaces else too void and cold<br /> -To make a very heaven again thereof;<br /> -As when the sun is set behind a grove,<br /> -And faintly unto nether ether rolled,<br /> -All night his whiter image and his mould<br /> -Grows beautiful with looking on her love.<br /> -<br /> -Thou, therefore, moon of so divine a ray,<br /> -Lend to our steps both fortitude and light!<br /> -Feebly along a venerable way<br /> -They climb the infinite, or perish quite:<br /> -Nothing are days and deeds to such as they,<br /> -While in this liberal house thy face is bright.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">-167-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="IX_Sunday_Chimes_in_the_City" id="IX_Sunday_Chimes_in_the_City"><span class="sm">IX.</span> <i>Sunday Chimes in the City</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Across</span> the bridge, where in the morning blow<br /> -The wrinkled tide turns homeward, and is fain<br /> -Homeward to drag the black sea-goer's chain,<br /> -And the long yards by Dowgate dipping low;<br /> -Across dispeopled ways, patient and slow,<br /> -Saint Magnus and Saint Dunstan call in vain:<br /> -From Wren's forgotten belfries, in the rain,<br /> -Down the blank wharves the dropping octaves go.<br /> -<br /> -Forbid not these! Though no man heed, they shower<br /> -A subtle beauty on the empty hour,<br /> -From all their dark throats aching and outblown;<br /> -Aye in the prayerless places welcome most,<br /> -Like the last gull that up some naked coast<br /> -Deploys her white and steady wing, alone.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">-168-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="X_A_Porch_in_Belgravia" id="X_A_Porch_in_Belgravia"><span class="sm">X.</span> <i>A Porch in Belgravia</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">When</span>, after dawn, the lordly houses hide<br /> -Till you fall foul of it, some piteous guest<br /> -(Some girl the damp stones gather to their breast,<br /> -Her gold hair rough, her rebel garment wide,<br /> -Who sleeps, with all that luck and life denied<br /> -Camped round, and dreams how, seaward and southwest,<br /> -Blue over Devon farms the smoke-rings rest,<br /> -And sheep and lambs ascend the lit hillside),<br /> -<br /> -Dear, of your charity, speak low, step soft,<br /> -Pray for a sinner. Planet-like and still,<br /> -Best hearts of all are sometimes set aloft<br /> -Only to see and pass, nor yet deplore<br /> -Even Wrong itself, crowned Wrong inscrutable,<br /> -Which cannot but have been, for evermore.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">-169-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="XI_York_Stairs" id="XI_York_Stairs"><span class="sm">XI.</span> <i>York Stairs</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Many</span> a musing eye returns to thee,<br /> -Against the formal street disconsolate,<br /> -Who kept in green domains thy bridal state,<br /> -With young tide-waters leaping at thy knee;<br /> -And lest the ravening smoke, and enmity,<br /> -Corrode thee quite, thy lover sighs, and straight<br /> -Desires thee safe afar, too graceful gate;<br /> -Throned on a terrace of the Boboli.<br /> -<br /> -Nay, nay, thy use is here. Stand queenly thus<br /> -Till the next fury; teach the time and us<br /> -Leisure and will to draw a serious breath:<br /> -Not wholly where thou art the soul is cowed,<br /> -Nor the fooled capital proclaims aloud<br /> -Barter is god, while Beauty perisheth.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">-170-</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nocenter"><a name="XII_In_the_Docks" id="XII_In_the_Docks"><span class="sm">XII.</span> <i>In the Docks</i></a></h2> - - -<p class="poem"> -<span class="smcap">Where</span> the bales thunder till the day is done,<br /> -And the wild sounds with wilder odours cope;<br /> -Where over crouching sail and coiling rope,<br /> -Lascar and Moor along the gangway run;<br /> -Where stifled Thames spreads in the pallid sun,<br /> -A hive of anarchy from slope to slope;<br /> -Flag of my birth, my liberty, my hope,<br /> -I see thee at the masthead, joyous one!<br /> -<br /> -O thou good guest! So oft as, young and warm,<br /> -To the home-wind thy hoisted colours bound,<br /> -Away, away from this too thoughtful ground,<br /> -Sodden with human trespass and despair,<br /> -Thee only, from the desert, from the storm,<br /> -A sick mind follows into Eden air.<br /> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">-173-</a></span></p> -<h2><a name="NOTES" id="NOTES">NOTES</a></h2> - - -<hr class="med" /> - -<div class="break-before"> -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#The_Kings">The Kings</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>II Kings, VI, 15, 16, 17.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#His_Angel_to_his_Mother">His Angel to his Mother</a></i>:<span class="sm"> P.</span> <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>One line of the refrain is taken from an old love song, -"Sweet, if you Love me, Let me Go," set to a charming -melody in D major, and to be found in Chappell's Popular -Music of the Olden Time.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#WH">Beside Hazlitt’s Grave</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>St. Anne's, Soho, boasts the "sorry steeple," one of -London's architectural absurdities. Hazlitt's grave is -grassed over and unmarked, but the epitaph which has now -for some years stood in place of the interesting original -one, may be read on the headstone set against the outer -west wall of the church.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#The_Vigil-at-Arms">The Vigil-at-Arms</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Suggested by the very simple but soldierly melody in -Mendelssohn's Lied ohne Worte in A, Book I, Opus 19, No. 4, -the last two lines coming in for repetitions.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#A_Friends_Song_for_Simoisius">A Friend’s Song for Simoisius</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Having to do with Iliad IV, 473-489.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">-174-</a></span></p> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#The_Inner_Fate_a_Chorus">The Inner Fate</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>It is perhaps too daring to force into Greek forms any -sentiment so dead against the Greek spirit of determinism.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#The_Acknowledgment">The Acknowledgment</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"The Prætor." Brutus in Shakespeare, if not the historical -Brutus.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#The_Cherry_Bough">The Cherry Bough</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -<span lang="la">"Si quis adhuc isthic meminit Nasonis adempti,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Et superest sine me nomen in urbe meum."</span></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Tristia</i>, Lib. III, El. X.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -<span lang="la">"Atque aliquis vestrum, Nasonis nomine dicto,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Deponat lacrymis pocula mista suis."</span></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Idem</i>, Lib. V, El. IV.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#A_Talisman">A Talisman</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Many years after these lines were in print, it was pointed -out to the author by a friend, a student of St. Bernard, -how they have managed to echo in part a saying of that -great Doctor, in his <i><span lang="la">De Consideratione</span></i>, Lib. I, Cap. -VIII, Sec. 9:</p> - -<p class="blockquot">"<span lang="la">Prudentia item est quae inter voluptates et necessitates -media, quasi quaedam arbitra sedens ... disterminat fines -... ex alterutris tertiam formans virtutem quam dicunt -Temperantiam</span>."</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">-175-</a></span></p> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#Fifteen_Epitaphs">Fifteen Epitaphs</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>It may be well to state (as these have often been taken for -translations), that they are only pseudo-Alexandrian.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#A_Footpath_Morality">A Footpath Morality</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>A sort of floral log-book of a walk from Oxford to Appleton -in Berkshire, May, 1908.</p> -</div> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Oxford</span></h3> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#II_Ad_Antiquarium">Ad Antiquarium</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>This is Wood's disinterested helper, John Aubrey, F.R.S., -1626-1697. Never was a truer lover of what he calls "that -most ingeniose Place!"</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#III_Martyrs_Memorial">Martyrs’ Memorial</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The only monument in the streets of Oxford was put up by -the local Low Church party in 1841, not really so much to -commemorate Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, all Cambridge -men, as to register a protest against Hurrell Froude (then -dead), Newman, and Keble, who all showed frank disrespect -to the heroes of the Reformation in England. The reference -in the sestet is of course to Cardinal Newman, and was -written barely a month before his rather sudden death on -August 11, 1890.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">-176-</a></span></p> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#V_Tom">Tom</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The College is a century and a half older than the upper -part of its chief entrance gate, and the once monastic bell -is much older than either. "The Tom Tower [was] finished -in November, 1682. In this was hung the bell called Great -Tom of Christ Church, which had originally belonged to -Osney Abbey.... From that time to this, it has rung its one -hundred and one strokes every night at nine, as a signal -that all students should be within their College walls. It -need hardly be said that the signal is not obeyed!"</p> - -<p class="blockquot"><span class="smcap">J. Wells</span>, M.A., 1901. <i>Oxford and its Colleges</i>: -Christ Church, pp. 205-206.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#VIII_The_Old_Dial_of_Corpus">The Old Dial of Corpus</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The great Dial in the quadrangle of Corpus Christi -College was not put up until 1605,—too late to have been -contemporary with either Erasmus or Pole. The author -discovered the error several years ago, but has never known -how to correct it except by this caution. "Osney Bell" -is Great Tom (see just above): Christ Church being next -neighbour to Corpus; but Tom may or may not have been in -place and condition to ring for curfew in the second year -of Queen Elizabeth's reign. The closing line is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">-177-</a></span> meant to -refer to the motto of the University, <i><span lang="la">Dominus illuminatio -mea</span></i>, taken from the opening of Psalm XXVII.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#XI_Undertones_at_Magdalen">Undertones at Magdalen</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"The priestless Pulpit" was an accurate description when this sonnet -was written (1895), though it is so no longer. From the open-air -Pulpit of Magdalen, disused since the Reformation, a Sermon is once -again delivered annually on St. John Baptist's Day.</p> -</div> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">London</span></h3> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#III_St_Peter-ad-Vincula">St. Peter-ad-Vincula</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>St. Peter-ad-Vincula is the ancient and sadly appropriate -dedication of the Church near the Beauchamp Tower and the -site of the scaffold. The vaults are under the chancel.</p> -</div> - -<p class="lg"><i><a href="#XI_York_Stairs">York Stairs</a></i>: <span class="sm">P.</span> <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Inigo Jones' Water Gate, standing on the Embankment at -the foot of Villiers Street, Strand, now a long way -from the river, is still called York Stairs. It is the -sole surviving appanage of the great town-house of the -seventeenth-century Dukes of Buckingham.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="bl">The Riverside Press</span><br /> -<span class="sm">CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS<br /> -U . S . A</span> -</p> - - - - -<hr /> -<div class="notes"> -<p class="center"><i>Transcriber's Note</i></p> - -<p>In the <a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a>, the entry for "Wood-Pigeons" is -erroneously listed as "Wood-Doves." This has been corrected.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Happy Ending, by Louise Imogen Guiney - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY ENDING *** - -***** This file should be named 54719-h.htm or 54719-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/1/54719/ - -Produced by Emmy, Linda Cantoni, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive). 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