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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..8d36f39 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55086 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55086) diff --git a/old/55086-0.txt b/old/55086-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6fe4c83..0000000 --- a/old/55086-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6838 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Edward Dowden - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Edward Dowden - -Release Date: July 10, 2017 [EBook #55086] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - POEMS - - EDWARD DOWDEN - - [Illustration: portrait of Edward Dowden] - - - - - POEMS - - BY - - EDWARD DOWDEN - - [Illustration: colophon] - - MCMXIV. J. M. DENT & SONS LTD. - LONDON AND TORONTO - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -THE WANDERER (_Sept. 1872_) 1 - -THE FOUNTAIN (_Sept. 1873_) 2 - -IN THE GALLERIES-- - - I. The Apollo Belvedere 5 - - II. The Venus of Melos 5 - - III. Antinous Crowned as Bacchus (_Feb. 1873_) 6 - - IV. Leonardo’s “Monna Lisa” (_Dec. 1872_) 7 - - V. St Luke Painting the Virgin (_April 1872_) 7 - -ON THE HEIGHTS (_Feb. 1872_) 9 - -“LA RÉVÉLATION PAR LE DÉSERT” (_Feb. 1873_) 13 - -THE MORNING STAR (_Aug. 1873_) 19 - -A CHILD’S NOONDAY SLEEP (_Aug. 1872_) 22 - -IN THE GARDEN-- - - I. The Garden (_1867_) 24 - - II. Visions (_1866_) 24 - - III. An Interior 25 - - IV. The Singer 26 - - V. A Summer Moon (_1866_) 26 - - VI. A Peach 27 - - VII. Early Autumn 28 - - VIII. Later Autumn 28 - -THE HEROINES (_1873_)-- - - Helena 33 - - Atalanta 36 - - Europa 44 - - Andromeda 47 - - Eurydice 52 - -BY THE SEA-- - - I. The Assumption (_Aug. 1872_) 58 - - II. The Artist’s Waiting (_Sept. 1872_) 58 - - III. Counsellors (_May 1872_) 59 - - IV. Evening (_July 1873_) 60 - - V. Joy (_May 1872_) 60 - - VI. Ocean (_May 1865_) 61 - - VII. News for London 61 - -AMONG THE ROCKS (_1873_) 63 - -TO A YEAR (_Dec. 31, 1872_) 66 - -A SONG OF THE NEW DAY (_Sept. 1872_) 67 - -SWALLOWS (_July 1873_) 68 - -MEMORIALS OF TRAVEL-- - - I. Coaching (_1867_) 70 - - II. In a Mountain Pass (_1867_) 70 - - III. The Castle (_1867_) 71 - - IV. Άισθητιχή φαντασία 72 - - V. On the Sea-cliff (_1873_) 72 - - VI. Ascetic Nature 73 - - VII. Relics 74 - - VIII. On the Pier of Boulogne 74 - - IX. Dover (_1862_) 75 - -AN AUTUMN SONG (_1872_) 76 - -BURDENS (_April 1872_) 77 - -SONG 78 - -BY THE WINDOW (_May 1872_) 81 - -SUNSETS (_June 1873_) 83 - -OASIS (_1866_) 84 - -FOREIGN SPEECH (_1868_) 85 - -IN THE TWILIGHT (_1873_) 86 - -THE INNER LIFE-- - - I. A Disciple 87 - - II. Theists (_April 1872_) 87 - - III. Seeking God (_1865_) 88 - - IV. Darwinism in Morals (_April 1872_) 88 - - V. Awakening (_1865_) 89 - - VI. Fishers 90 - - VII. Communion (_1862_) 90 - - VIII. A Sonnet for the Times 91 - - IX. Emmausward (_1867_) 91 - - X. A Farewell (_Sept. 1872_) 92 - - XI. Deliverance (_Oct. 1872_) 93 - - XII. Paradise Lost 93 - -THE RESTING PLACE (_Sept. 1872_) 95 - -NEW HYMNS FOR SOLITUDE-- - - I. (_April 1872_) 96 - - II. (_Oct. 1872_) 96 - - III. (_May 1872_) 97 - - IV. (_May 1872_) 98 - - V. (_April 1872_) 99 - - VI. (_April 1872_) 100 - -IN THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE (_1876_) 101 - -FIRST LOVE 103 - -THE SECRET OF THE UNIVERSE 105 - -BEAU RIVAGE HOTEL 107 - -IN A JUNE NIGHT 108 - -FROM APRIL TO OCTOBER-- - - I. Beauty 112 - - II. Two Infinities 112 - - III. The Dawn (_1865_) 113 - - IV. The Skylark (_1866_) 113 - - V. The Mill-race 114 - - VI. In the Wood 115 - - VII. The Pause of Evening (_Aug. 1873_) 115 - - VIII. In July 116 - - IX. In September 116 - - X. In the Window (_1865_) 117 - - XI. An Autumn Morning 118 - -SEA VOICES (_May 1872_) 119 - -ABOARD THE “SEA-SWALLOW” (_1865_) 121 - -SEA-SIGHING (_1871_) 122 - -IN THE MOUNTAINS (_April 1872_) 123 - -“THE TOP OF A HILL CALLED CLEAR” (_May 1872_) 126 - -THE INITIATION (_Oct. 1872_) 128 - -RENUNCIANTS (_Nov. 1872_) 130 - -SPEAKERS TO GOD (_April 1873_) 131 - -POESIA (_Feb. 1873_) 133 - -MUSICIANS (_Jan. 1873_) 134 - -MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS-- - - A DAY OF DEFECTION 139 - - SONG AND SILENCE 140 - - LOVE-TOKENS (_Nov. 1872_) 141 - - A DREAM (_Aug. 1875_) 142 - - MICHELANGELESQUE (_Oct. 1872_) 143 - - LIFE’S GAIN (_Aug. 1872_) 144 - - COMPENSATION 145 - - TO A CHILD DEAD AS SOON AS BORN 146 - - BROTHER DEATH 147 - - THE MAGE 148 - - WISE PASSIVENESS (_1865_) 149 - - THE SINGER’S PLEA 150 - - THE TRESPASSER 151 - - RITUALISM 152 - - PROMETHEUS UNBOUND 153 - - KING MOB (_1865_) 154 - - THE MODERN ELIJAH 155 - - DAVID AND MICHAL (_1865_) 156 - -WINDLE-STRAWS (_1872_)-- - - I. 159 - - II. 159 - - III. 160 - - IV. 161 - - V. 161 - - VI. 162 - - VII. 162 - - VIII. 162 - - -POEMS OF LATER DATES - -AT THE OAR 167 - -THE DIVINING ROD 168 - -SALOME 169 - -WATERSHED 170 - -THE GUEST 171 - -MORITURUS 172 - -ALONE 173 - -FAME 174 - -WHERE WERT THOU? 175 - -A WISH 176 - -THE GIFT 177 - -RECOVERY 178 - -IF IT MIGHT BE 179 - -WINTER NOONTIDE 180 - -THE POOL 181 - -THE DESIRE TO GIVE 182 - -A BEECH-TREE IN WINTER 183 - -JUDGMENT 184 - -DÜRER’S “MELENCHOLIA” 185 - -MILLET’S “THE SOWER” 186 - -AT MULLION (CORNWALL) 187 - -THE WINNOWER TO THE WINDS 188 - -EMERSON 189 - -SENT TO AN AMERICAN SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY 190 - -NOCTURNE 191 - -THE WHIRLIGIG 192 - -PARADISE LOST AND FOUND 195 - -AFTER METASTASIO 199 - -THE CORN-CRAKE 200 - -IN THE CATHEDRAL 203 - -EDGAR ALLAN POE 204 - -DEUS ABSCONDITUS 205 - -SUBLIMINAL 206 - -LOUISA SHORE 207 - -FLOWERS FROM THE SOUTH OF FRANCE 208 - -TO HESTER 209 - -UNUTTERED 212 - -IMITATED FROM J. SOULARY’S “LE FOSSOYEUR” 213 - -IMITATED FROM GOETHE’S “GANYMEDE” 214 - -WITH A COPY OF MY “POEMS” 216 - -PROLOGUE TO MAURICE GEROTHWOHL’S VERSION -OF VIGNY’S “CHATTERTON” 217 - -A SONG 219 - -THE DROPS OF NECTAR (_1789_) 220 - -AMOR AS LANDSCAPE-PAINTER 221 - -THE WANDERER 224 - -“ALEXIS AND DORA” 234 - - - - -PREFACE - - -Goethe says in a little poem[A] that “Poems are stained glass -windows”--“_Gedichte sind gemalte Fensterscheiben_”--to be seen aright -not from the “market-place” but only from the interior of the church, -“_die heilige Kapelle_”: and that “_der Herr Philister_” (equivalent for -“indolent Reviewer”) glances at them from without and gets out of temper -because he finds them unintelligible from his “market-place” standpoint. -This comparison is a pretty conceit, and holds good as a half truth--but -not more than a half: for while the artist who paints his “church -windows” needs only to make them beautiful from within, the maker of -poems must so shape and colour his work that its outer side--the -technical, towards the “market-place” of the public--shall have no lack -of beauty, though differing from the beauty visible from the spiritual -interior. - - [A] “Sechzehn Parabeln,” _Gedichte_, Leoper’s edition (p. 180) of - Goethe’s _Gedichte_. - -The old volume of _Edward Dowden’s Poems_ of 1876, which is now -reprinted with additions, has been, to a limited extent, long before -the public--seen from the “market-place” by general critics, who, for -the most part, approved the outer side of the “painted windows,” and -seen perhaps from within by some few like-minded readers, who, though no -definite door was opened into “_die heilige Kapelle_,” somehow entered -in. - -But a great many people, to whom the author’s prose works are well -known, have never even heard that he had written poetry. This is due in -a measure to the fact that the published book of poems only got into -circulation by its first small edition. Its second edition found a -silent apotheosis in flame at a great fire at the publisher’s in London, -in which nearly the whole of it perished. - -Edward Dowden’s chief work has been as a prose writer. That fact -remains--yet it is accidental rather than essential. In the early -seventies he felt the urge very strongly towards making verse his -vocation in life, and he probably would have yielded to it, but for the -necessity to be bread-winner for a much-loved household. Poetry is a -ware of small commercial value, as most poets--at least for a long space -of their lives--have known, and prose, for even a young writer of -promise, held out prospects of bread for immediate eating. Hence to -prose he turned, and on that road went his way, and whether the -accidental circumstances that determined his course at the parting of -the ways wrought loss or gain for our literature, who can say? - -But he never wholly abandoned verse, and all through his life, even to -the very end, he would fitfully, from time to time, utter in it a part -of himself which never found complete issue in prose and which was his -most real self. - -Perhaps the nearest approaches to his utterance in poetry occurred -sometimes in his College lecturing, when in the midst of a written -discourse he would interrupt it and stop and liberate his heart in a -little rush of words--out of the depths, accompanied by that familiar -gesture of his hands which always came to him when emotionally stirred -in speaking. Some of his students have told me that they usually found -those little extempore bits in a lecture by far the most illuminated and -inspiring parts of it, especially as it was then that his voice, always -musical in no common degree, vibrated, and acquired a richer tone. - -In his prose writings in general he seemed to curb and restrain himself. -That he did so was by no means an evil, for the habitual retinence in -his style gave to the little rare outbreaks of emotion the quality of -charm that we find in a tender flower growing out of a solid stone wall -unexpectedly. - -Not infrequently a sort of hard irony was employed by him, as restraint -on enthusiasm, with occasional loosening of the curb. - - * * * * * - -In Edward Dowden’s soul there seemed to be capacities which might, under -other circumstances, have made him more than a minor poet. His was a -more than usually rich, sensuous nature. This, combined with absolute -purity--the purity not of ice and snow, but of fire. And, superadded, -was an unlimited capacity for sternness--that quality which, as salt, -acts as preservative of all human ardours. He came from his Maker, -fashioned out of the stuff whereof are made saints, patriots, martyrs, -and the great lovers in the world. His work as a scholar never -obliterated anything of this in him. By this, his erudition gained -richness--the richness of vital blood. It was as no anæmic recluse that -he dwelt amongst his book-shelves, and hence no Faust-like weariness of -intellectual satiety ever came to him, no sense of being “_beschränkt -mit diesem Bücherhauf_” in his surroundings of his library (which -latterly had grown to some twenty-four thousand volumes). He lived in -company with these in a twofold way, keenly and accurately grasping all -their textual details, and at the same time valuing them for the sake, -chiefly, of spiritual converse with the writers. - -Besides the spiritual converse he gained thus, he found, as a -book-lover, a fertile source of recreation in the collecting of literary -rarities, old books, MSS. and curiosities. In this he felt the keen zest -of a sportsman. This was his shooting on the moors, his fishing in the -rivers. No living creature ever lost its life for his amusement, but in -this innocuous play he found unfailing pleasure, and many a piece of -luck he had with his gun or rod in hitting some rare bird, or landing -some big prize of a fish out of old booksellers’ catalogues or the -“carts” in the back streets. - -His physical nature was fully and strongly developed, and it is out of -strong physical instincts that strong spiritual instincts often -grow--the boundary line between them being undefined. - -His one athletic exercise--swimming--was to him a joy of no common sort. -He gave himself to the sea with an eagerness of body, soul and spirit, -breasting the bright waters exultingly on many a summer’s day on some -West of Ireland or Cornish shore, revelling in the sea’s life and in his -own. - -And akin to that, in the sensuous, spiritual region of the soul, was his -feeling for all External Nature, his deep delight in the coming of each -new Spring--its blackthorn blossoms, its hazel and willow catkins, its -daffodils--and his response, as the year went on in its procession, to -the glory of the furze and heather glow and to all Earth’s sounds and -silences. - -And of a like sort was his enjoyment of music which had the depth of a -passion. - -Very possibly, if his lot had been cast in early Christian or mediæval -times, all these impulses towards the joy and beauty of the earth might -have been sternly crushed out by the moral forces of his character. - -Looking at a picture of St. Jerome one day--not unlike E. D. in -feature--I said to him, “There’s what _you_ would have been if you had -lived in those times.” (The saint is depicted there as lean, emaciated -and woefully dirty!). - -It was well for Edward Dowden that he was laid hold of in his early life -by that great non-ascetic soul, William Wordsworth. He was initiated -into the inner secret of Wordsworth. He had experience of the -Wordsworthian ecstasy--that ecstasy which comes, if at all, straight as -a gift from God, and is not to be taught by the teaching of the scribes. - -Through kinship a man who is born potentially a poet comes first into -relation with poets, and with E. Dowden’s sensuousness of capacities it -was natural that he should be in his early years attracted to Keats, to -the long, deep, rich dwelling of his verse on the vision and the sounds -of Nature. It was not until he had advanced some way towards middle life -that he came into vital contact with Shelley. He had felt aloof from -him; but the attraction, when once owned, became very powerful, and he -yielded to the delight of the swift motion of the Shelleyan utterances. - -He always recognized Robert Browning’s greatness profoundly, and -responded to all his best truths, especially as regards the relation, in -love, of Man and Woman, but he never became pledged to an all-round -Browning worship; his admiration had no discipleship in it. - -For Walt Whitman, with whom a personal friendship, strong on both sides, -was formed, he felt the cordial reverence due to the giver of what he -reckoned as a gift of immense value. While condemning whatever was -unreticent in _Leaves of Grass_, he at the same time saw there the great -flood of spirituality available as a force for emancipation of our -hearts from pressure of sordidnesses in the world. - -It is somewhat remarkable that with all his trend towards the great -spiritual and mystical forces in literature he was all along never -without a keen appreciation of the writers who brought mundane -shrewdness and wisdom. The first book he bought for himself in childhood -with the hoarded savings of his pocket-money was _Bacon’s Essays_, with -which as a small boy he became very familiar. And all through his life -he sought with unfailing pleasure the companionship of Jane Austen again -and again. And amongst the books which he himself made, it was perhaps -his _Montaigne_ that gave him, in the process of making, the delicatest -satisfaction--the satisfaction of witnessing and analysing the dexterous -play of human intellect and character on low levels. - -His attraction to Goethe--very dominant with him in middle life--came, I -imagine, from the fact that he saw in that mightiest of the Teutons two -diverse qualities in operation--the measureless intellectual -spirituality and the vast common-sense of mundane wisdom. - -In this attraction there was also the element of the magnetism which -draws together opposites--not less forcible than the attraction between -affinities. - -As regards the moral nature, his own was as far as the North Pole is -from the South from that of the great sage of Weimar, whose -serenely-wise beneficence contained no potentialities of sainthood, -martyrdom or absolute human love. He sought gain from Goethe just -_because_ of that unlikeness to what was in himself. - -At one period of his literary work he was intending to make as his -“_opus magnus_” a full study of Goethe’s life and works, and with that -intent he carried on a course of reading, and laid in a great equipment -of workman’s tools--Goethe books in German, French and English. From -this project he was turned aside by a call to write the life of -Shelley--a long and difficult task. But he never lost sight of Goethe. -In one of the later years of his life, as recreation in a summer’s -holiday in Cornwall, he translated the whole of the “West-Eastern Divan” -into English verse, and previously, from time to time, isolated essays -on Goethe themes appeared amongst his prose writings. And yet it is not -unlikely that even if the task of Shelley’s biography had not -intervened, no complete study, such as he had at first planned, might -have been ever accomplished by him on Goethe, for with experience there -came to him a growing conviction that his best work in criticism could -only be done in dealing with what was written in his mother-tongue. - -Some of Edward Dowden’s friends, Nationalist and Unionist both, have -felt regret that he, the gentle scholar, gave such large share of his -energies to the strife of politics, as if force were subtracted thereby -from his work in Literature. They are mistaken. The output of energy -thus given came back to the giver, reinforcing his prose writing with a -mundane vigour and virility, exceeding what it might have had if he had -kept himself aloof from the affairs of the nation. - -Yet, strangely enough, between his politics and his poetry there was a -water-tight wall of separation. Other men, to take scattered instances, -Kipling, Wordsworth, Milton, fused in various ways their political -feeling and their poetical. This Edward Dowden never attempted. I cannot -analyse the “why.” - -Confining myself to some points which seem left out of sight in most of -the admirably appreciative obituary notices in last April’s newspapers, -I have tried to say here, in a fragmentary way, a few things about a man -of whom many things--infinitely many--might be said without exhausting -the total. He was himself at the same time many and one. He had -multiform aspects--interests very diverse--and yet life was for him in -no wise “patchy and scrappy,” but had unity throughout. - -In Shakespeare, whose faithful scholar he was, there are diversities: -and yet, do we not image Shakespeare to our minds as one and a whole? - -In the volumes now issued by Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons is contained all -the verse that the author left available for publication, with the -exception of a sequence of a hundred and one lyrics (which by desire is -separately published under the somewhat transparent disguise of -editorship). That little sequence, named _A Woman’s Reliquary_, is his -latest work in verse. Much in it re-echoes sounds that can be heard in -his old poems of the early seventies. - -E. D. D. - -_September 1913._ - - - - -THE WANDERER - - - I cast my anchor nowhere (the waves whirled - My anchor from me); East and West are one - To me; against no winds are my sails furled; - --Merely my planet anchors to the Sun. - - - - -THE FOUNTAIN - -(AN INTRODUCTION TO THE SONNETS) - - - Hush, let the fountain murmur dim - Melodious secrets; stir no limb, - But lie along the marge and wait, - Till deep and pregnant as with fate, - Fine as a star-beam, crystal-clear, - Each ripple grows upon the ear. - This is that fountain seldom seen - By mortal wanderer,--Hippocrene,-- - Where the virgins three times three, - Thy singing brood, Mnemosyne, - Loosen’d the girdle, and with grave - Pure joy their faultless bodies gave - To sacred pleasure of the wave. - Listen! the lapsing waters tell - The urgence uncontrollable - Which makes the trouble of their breast, - And bears them onward with no rest - To ampler skies and some grey plain - Sad with the tumbling of the main. - But see, a sidelong eddy slips - Back into the soft eclipse - Of day, while careless fate allows, - Darkling beneath still olive boughs; - Then with chuckle liquid sweet - Coils within its shy retreat; - This is mine, no wave of might, - But pure and live with glimmering light; - I dare not follow that broad flood - Of Poesy, whose lustihood - Nourishes mighty lands, and makes - Resounding music for their sakes; - I lie beside the well-head clear - With musing joy, with tender fear, - And choose for half a day to lean - Thus on my elbow where the green - Margin-grass and silver-white - Starry buds, the wind’s delight, - Thirsting steer, nor goat-hoof rude - Of the branch-sundering Satyr brood - Has ever pashed; now, now, I stoop, - And in hand-hollow dare to scoop - This scantling from the delicate stream; - It lies as quiet as a dream, - And lustrous in my curvèd hand. - Were it a crime if this were drain’d - By lips which met the noonday blue - Fiery and emptied of its dew? - Crown me with small white marish-flowers! - To the good Dæmon, and the Powers - Of this fair haunt I offer up - In unprofanèd lily-cup - Libations; still remains for me - A bird’s drink of clear Poesy; - Yet not as light bird comes and dips - A pert bill, but with reverent lips - I drain this slender trembling tide; - O sweet the coolness at my side, - And, lying back, to slowly pry - For spaces of the upper sky - Radiant ’twixt woven olive leaves; - And, last, while some fair show deceives - The closing eyes, to find a sleep - As full of healing and as deep - As on toil-worn Odysseus lay - Surge-swept to his Ionian bay. - - - - - IN THE GALLERIES - - - I. THE APOLLO BELVEDERE - - Radiance invincible! Is that the brow - Which gleamed on Python while thy arrow sped? - Are those the lips for Hyacinthus dead - That grieved? Wherefore a God indeed art thou: - For all we toil with ill, and the hours bow - And break us, and at best when we have bled, - And are much marred, perchance propitiated - A little doubtful victory they allow: - We sorrow, and thenceforth the lip retains - A shade, and the eyes shine and wonder less. - O joyous Slayer of evil things! O great - And splendid Victor! God, whom no soil stains - Of passion or doubt, of grief or languidness, - --Even to worship thee I come too late. - - -II. THE VENUS OF MELOS - - Goddess, or woman nobler than the God, - No eyes a-gaze upon Ægean seas - Shifting and circling past their Cyclades - Saw thee. The Earth, the gracious Earth, wastrod - First by thy feet, while round thee lay her broad - Calm harvests, and great kine, and shadowing trees, - And flowers like queens, and a full year’s increase, - Clusters, ripe berry, and the bursting pod. - So thy victorious fairness, unallied - To bitter things or barren, doth bestow - And not exact; so thou art calm and wise; - Thy large allurement saves; a man may grow - Like Plutarch’s men by standing at thy side, - And walk thenceforward with clear-visioned eyes! - - -III. ANTINOUS CROWNED AS BACCHUS - -(_In the British Museum_) - - Who crowned thy forehead with the ivy wreath - And clustered berries burdening the hair? - Who gave thee godhood, and dim rites? Beware - O beautiful, who breathest mortal breath, - Thou delicate flame great gloom environeth! - The gods are free, and drink a stainless air, - And lightly on calm shoulders they upbear - A weight of joy eternal, nor can Death - Cast o’er their sleep the shadow of her shrine. - O thou confessed too mortal by the o’er-fraught - Crowned forehead, must thy drooped eyes ever see - The glut of pleasure, those pale lips of thine - Still suck a bitter-sweet satiety, - Thy soul descend through cloudy realms of thought? - - -IV. LEONARDO’S “MONNA LISA” - - Make thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair - Of knowing thee be absolute; I wait - Hour-long and waste a soul. What word of fate - Hides ’twixt the lips which smile and still forbear? - Secret perfection! Mystery too fair! - Tangle the sense no more lest I should hate - Thy delicate tyranny, the inviolate - Poise of thy folded hands, thy fallen hair. - Nay, nay,--I wrong thee with rough words; still be - Serene, victorious, inaccessible; - Still smile but speak not; lightest irony - Lurk ever ’neath thine eyelids’ shadow; still - O’ertop our knowledge; Sphinx of Italy - Allure us and reject us at thy will! - - -V. ST LUKE PAINTING THE VIRGIN - -(_By Van der Weyden_) - - It was Luke’s will; and she, the mother-maid, - Would not gainsay; to please him pleased her best; - See, here she sits with dovelike heart at rest - Brooding, and smoothest brow; the babe is laid - On lap and arm, glad for the unarrayed - And swatheless limbs he stretches; lightly pressed - By soft maternal fingers the full breast - Seeks him, while half a sidelong glance is stayed - By her own bosom and half passes down - To reach the boy. Through doors and window-frame - Bright airs flow in; a river tranquilly - Washes the small, glad Netherlandish town. - Innocent calm! no token here of shame, - A pierced heart, sunless heaven, and Calvary. - - - - -ON THE HEIGHTS - - - Here are the needs of manhood satisfied! - Sane breath, an amplitude for soul and sense, - The noonday silence of the summer hills, - And this embracing solitude; o’er all - The sky unsearchable, which lays its claim,-- - A large redemption not to be annulled,-- - Upon the heart; and far below, the sea - Breaking and breaking, smoothly, silently. - What need I any further? Now once more - My arrested life begins, and I am man - Complete with eye, heart, brain, and that within - Which is the centre and the light of being; - O dull! who morning after morning chose - Never to climb these gorse and heather slopes - Cairn-crowned, but last within one seaward nook - Wasted my soul on the ambiguous speech - And slow eye-mesmerism of rolling waves, - Courting oblivion of the heart. True life - That was not which possessed me while I lay - Prone on the perilous edge, mere eye and ear, - Staring upon the bright monotony, - Having let slide all force from me, each thought - Yield to the vision of the gleaming blank, - Each nerve of motion and of sense grow numb, - Till to the bland persuasion of some breeze, - Which played across my forehead and my hair, - The lost volition would efface itself, - And I was mingled wholly in the sound - Of tumbling billow and upjetting surge, - Long reluctation, welter and refluent moan, - And the reverberating tumultuousness - ’Mid shelf and hollow and angle black with spray. - Yet under all oblivion there remained - A sense of some frustration, a pale dream - Of Nature mocking man, and drawing down, - As streams draw down the dust of gold, his will, - His thought and passion to enrich herself - The insatiable devourer. - - Welcome earth, - My natural heritage! and this soft turf, - These rocks which no insidious ocean saps, - But the wide air flows over, and the sun - Illumines. Take me, Mother, to thy breast, - Gather me close in tender, sustinent arms, - Lay bare thy bosom’s sweetness and its strength - That I may drink vigour and joy and love. - Oh, infinite composure of the hills! - Thou large simplicity of this fair world, - Candour and calmness, with no mockery, - No soft frustration, flattering sigh or smile - Which masks a tyrannous purpose; and ye Powers - Of these sky-circled heights, and Presences - Awful and strict, I find you favourable, - Who seek not to exclude me or to slay, - Rather accept my being, take me up - Into your silence and your peace. Therefore - By him whom ye reject not, gracious Ones, - Pure vows are made that haply he will be - Not all unworthy of the world; he casts - Forth from him, never to resume again, - Veiled nameless things, frauds of the unfilled heart, - Fantastic pleasures, delicate sadnesses, - The lurid, and the curious, and the occult, - Coward sleights and shifts, the manners of the slave, - And long unnatural uses of dim life. - Hence with you! Robes of angels touch these heights - Blown by pure winds and I lay hold upon them. - - Here is a perfect bell of purple heath, - Made for the sky to gaze at reverently, - As faultless as itself, and holding light, - Glad air and silence in its slender dome; - Small, but a needful moment in the sum - Of God’s full joy--the abyss of ecstasy - O’er which we hang as the bright bow of foam - Above the never-filled receptacle - Hangs seven-hued where the endless cataract leaps. - - O now I guess why you have summoned me, - Headlands and heights, to your companionship; - Confess that I this day am needful to you! - The heavens were loaded with great light, the winds - Brought you calm summer from a hundred fields, - All night the stars had pricked you to desire, - The imminent joy at its full season flowered, - There was a consummation, the broad wave - Toppled and fell. And had ye voice for this? - Sufficient song to unburden the urged breast? - A pastoral pipe to play? a lyre to touch? - The brightening glory of the heath and gorse - Could not appease your passion, nor the cry - Of this wild bird that flits from bush to bush. - Me therefore you required, a voice for song, - A pastoral pipe to play, a lyre to touch, - I recognize your bliss to find me here; - The sky at morning when the sun upleaps - Demands her atom of intense melody, - Her point of quivering passion and delight, - And will not let the lark’s heart be at ease. - Take me, the brain with various, subtile fold, - The breast that knows swift joy, the vocal lips; - I yield you here the cunning instrument - Between your knees; now let the plectrum fall! - - - - -“LA RÉVÉLATION PAR LE DÉSERT” - - “Toujours le désert se montre à l’horizon, quand vous - prononcez le nom de Jéhovah.” - EDGAR QUINET. - - - Beyond the places haunted by the feet - Of thoughts and swift desires, and where the eyes - Of wing’d imaginings are wild, and dreams - Glide by on noiseless plumes, beyond the dim - Veiled sisterhood of ever-circling mists, - Who dip their urns in those enchanted meres - Where all thought fails, and every ardour dies, - And through the vapour dead looms a low moon, - Beyond the fountains of the dawn, beyond - The white home of the morning star, lies spread - A desert lifeless, bright, illimitable, - The world’s confine, o’er which no sighing goes - From weary winds of Time. - - I sat me down - Upon a red stone flung on the red sand, - In length as great as some sarcophagus - Which holds a king, but scribbled with no runes, - Bald, and unstained by lichen or grey moss. - Save me no living thing in that red land - Showed under heaven; no furtive lizard slipped, - No desert weed pushed upward the tough spine - Or hairy lump, no slow bird was a spot - Of moving black on the deserted air, - Or stationary shrilled his tuneless cry; - No shadow stirr’d, nor luminous haze uprose, - Quivering against the blanched blue of the marge. - I sat unbonneted, and my throat baked, - And my tongue loll’d dogwise. Red sand below, - And one unlidded eye above--mere God - Blazing from marge to marge. I did not pray, - My heart was as a cinder in my breast, - And with both hands I held my head which throbbed. - I, who had sought for God, had followed God - Through the fair world which stings with sharp desire - For him of whom its hints and whisperings are, - Its gleams and tingling moments of the night, - I, who in flower, and wave, and mountain-wind, - And song of bird, and man’s diviner heart - Had owned the present Deity, yet strove - For naked access to his inmost shrine,-- - Now found God doubtless, for he filled the heaven - Like brass, he breathed upon the air like fire. - But I, a speck ’twixt the strown sand and sky, - Being yet an atom of pure and living will, - And perdurable as any God of brass, - With all my soul, with all my mind and strength - Hated this God. O, for a little cloud - No bigger than a man’s hand on the rim, - To rise with rain and thunder in its womb, - And blot God out! But no such cloud would come. - I felt my brain on fire, heard each pulse tick; - It was a God to make a man stark mad; - I rose with neck out-thrust, and nodding head, - While with dry chaps I could not choose but laugh; - _Ha_, _ha_, _ha_, _ha_, across the air it rang, - No sweeter than the barking of a dog, - Hard as the echo from an iron cliff; - It must have buffeted the heaven; I ceased, - I looked to see from the mid sky an arm, - And one sweep of the scimitar; I stood; - And when the minute passed with no event, - No doomsman’s stroke, no sundering soul and flesh, - When silence dropt its heavy fold on fold, - And God lay yet inert in heaven, or scorn’d - His rebel antic-sized, grotesque,--I swooned. - - Now when the sense returned my lips were wet, - And cheeks and chin were wet, with a dank dew, - Acrid and icy, and one shadow huge - Hung over me blue-black, while all around - The fierce light glared. O joy, a living thing, - Emperor of this red domain of sand, - A giant snake! One fold, one massy wreath - Arched over me; a man’s expanded arms - Could not embrace the girth of this great lord - In his least part, and low upon the sand - His small head lay, wrinkled, a flaccid bag, - Set with two jewels of green fire, the eyes - That had not slept since making of the world. - Whence grew I bold to gaze into such eyes? - Thus gazing each conceived the other’s thought, - Aware how each read each; the Serpent mused, - “Are all the giants dead, a long time dead, - Born of the broad-hipped women, grave and tall, - In whom God’s sons poured a celestial seed? - A long time dead, whose great deeds filled the earth - With clamour as of beaten shields, all dead, - And Cush and Canaan, Mizraim and Phut, - And the boy Nimrod storming through large lands - Like earthquake through tower’d cities, these depart, - And what remains? Behold, the elvish thing - We raised from out his swoon, this now is man. - The pretty vermin! helpless to conceive - Of great, pure, simple sin, and vast revolt; - The world escapes from deluge these new days, - We build no Babels with the Shinar slime; - What would this thin-legged grasshopper with us, - The Dread Ones? Rather let him skip, and chirp - Hymns in his smooth grass to his novel God, - ‘The Father’; here no bland paternity - He meets, but visible Might blocks the broad sky, - My great Co-mate, the Ancient. Hence! avoid! - What wouldst thou prying on our solitude? - For thee my sly small cousin may suffice, - And sly small bites about the heart and groin; - Hence to his haunt! Yet ere thou dost depart - I mark thee with my sign.” - - A vibrant tongue - Had in a moment pricked upon my brow - The mystic mark of brotherhood, Cain’s brand, - But when I read within his eyes the words - “Hence” and “avoid,” dim horror seized on me, - And rising, with both arms stretched forth, and head - Bowed earthward, and not turning once I ran; - And what things saw me as I raced by them, - What hands plucked at my dress, what light wings brushed - My face, what waters in my hearing seethed, - I know not, till I reached familiar lands, - And saw grey clouds slow gathering for the night, - Above sweet fields, whence the June mowers strolled - Homewards with girls who chatted down the lane. - - Is this the secret lying round the world? - A Dread One watching with unlidded eye - Slow century after century from his heaven, - And that great lord, the worm of the red plain, - Cold in mid sun, strenuous, untameable, - Coiling his solitary strength along - Slow century after century, conscious each - How in the life of his Arch-enemy - He lives, how ruin of one confounds the pair,-- - Is this the eternal dual mystery? - One Source of being, Light, or Love, or Lord, - Whose shadow is the brightness of the world, - Still let thy dawns and twilights glimmer pure - In flow perpetual from hill to hill, - Still bathe us in thy tides of day and night; - Wash me at will a weed in thy free wave, - Drenched in the sun and air and surge of Thee. - - - - -THE MORNING STAR - - -I - - Backward betwixt the gates of steepest heaven, - Faint from the insupportable advance - Of light confederate in the East, is driven - - The starry chivalry, and helm and lance, - Which held keen ward upon the shadowy plain, - Yield to the stress and stern predominance - - Of Day; no wanderer morning-moon awane - Floats through dishevelled clouds, exanimate, - In disarray, with gaze of weariest pain; - - O thou, sole Splendour, sprung to vindicate - Night’s ancient fame, thou in dread strife serene, - With back-blown locks, joyous yet desperate - - Flamest; from whose pure ardour Earth doth win - High passionate pangs, thou radiant paladin. - - -II - - Nay; strife must cease in song: far-sent and clear - Piercing the silence of this summer morn - I hear thy swan-song rapturous; I hear - - Life’s ecstasy; sharp cries of flames which burn - With palpitating joy, intense and pure, - From altars of the universe, and yearn - - In eager spires; and under these the sure - Strong ecstasy of Death, in phrase too deep - For thought, too bright for dim investiture. - - Of mortal words, and sinking more than sleep - Down holier places of the soul’s delight; - Cry, through the quickening dawn, to us who creep - - ’Mid dreams and dews of the dividing night, - Thou searcher of the darkness and the light. - - -III - - I seek thee, and thou art not; for the sky - Has drawn thee in upon her breast to be - A hidden talisman, while light soars high, - - Virtuous to make wide heaven’s tranquillity - More tranquil, and her steadfast truth more true, - Yea even her overbowed infinity. - - Of tenderness, when o’er wet woods the blue - Shows past white edges of a sundering cloud, - More infinitely tender. Day is new, - - Night ended; how the hills are overflowed - With spaciousness of splendour, and each tree - Is touched; only not yet the lark is loud, - - Since viewless still o’er city and plain and sea - Vibrates thy spirit-wingèd ecstasy. - - - - -A CHILD’S NOONDAY SLEEP - - - Because you sleep, my child, with breathing light - As heave of the June sea, - Because your lips soft petals dewy-bright - Dispart so tenderly; - - Because the slumbrous warmth is on your cheek - Up from the hushed heart sent, - And in this midmost noon when winds are weak - No cloud lies more content; - - Because nor song of bird, nor lamb’s keen call - May reach you sunken deep, - Because your lifted arm I thus let fall - Heavy with perfect sleep; - - Because all will is drawn from you, all power, - And Nature through dark roots - Will hold and nourish you for one sweet hour - Amid her flowers and fruits; - - Therefore though tempests gather, and the gale - Through autumn skies will roar, - Though Earth send up to heaven the ancient wail - Heard by dead Gods of yore; - - Though spectral faiths contend, and for her course - The soul confused must try, - While through the whirl of atoms and of force - Looms an abandoned sky; - - Yet, know I, Peace abides, of earth’s wild things - Centre, and ruling thence; - Behold, a spirit folds her budded wings - In confident innocence. - - - - -IN THE GARDEN - - -I. THE GARDEN - - Past the town’s clamour is a garden full - Of loneness and old greenery; at noon - When birds are hushed, save one dim cushat’s croon, - A ripen’d silence hangs beneath the cool - Great branches; basking roses dream and drop - A petal, and dream still; and summer’s boon - Of mellow grasses, to be levelled soon - By a dew-drenchèd scythe, will hardly stop - At the uprunning mounds of chestnut trees. - Still let me muse in this rich haunt by day, - And know all night in dusky placidness - It lies beneath the summer, while great ease - Broods in the leaves, and every light wind’s stress - Lifts a faint odour down the verdurous way. - - -II. VISIONS - - Here I am slave of visions. When noon heat - Strikes the red walls, and their environ’d air - Lies steep’d in sun; when not a creature dare - Affront the fervour, from my dim retreat - Where woof of leaves embowers a beechen seat, - With chin on palm, and wide-set eyes I stare, - Beyond the liquid quiver and the glare, - Upon fair shapes that move on silent feet. - Those Three strait-robed, and speechless as they pass, - Come often, touch the lute, nor heed me more - Than birds or shadows heed; that naked child - Is dove-like Psyche slumbering in deep grass; - Sleep, sleep,--he heeds thee not, you Sylvan wild - Munching the russet apple to its core. - - -III. AN INTERIOR - - The grass around my limbs is deep and sweet; - Yonder the house has lost its shadow wholly, - The blinds are dropped, and softly now and slowly - The day flows in and floats; a calm retreat - Of tempered light where fair things fair things meet; - White busts and marble Dian make it holy, - Within a niche hangs Dürer’s Melancholy - Brooding; and, should you enter, there will greet - Your sense with vague allurement effluence faint - Of one magnolia bloom; fair fingers draw - From the piano Chopin’s heart-complaint; - Alone, white-robed she sits; a fierce macaw - On the verandah, proud of plume and paint, - Screams, insolent despot, showing beak and claw. - - -IV. THE SINGER - - “That was the thrush’s last good-night,” I thought, - And heard the soft descent of summer rain - In the drooped garden leaves; but hush! again - The perfect iterance,--freer than unsought - Odours of violets dim in woodland ways, - Deeper than coilèd waters laid a-dream - Below mossed ledges of a shadowy stream, - And faultless as blown roses in June days. - Full-throated singer! art thou thus anew - Voiceful to hear how round thyself alone - The enrichèd silence drops for thy delight - More soft than snow, more sweet than honey-dew? - Now cease: the last faint western streak is gone, - Stir not the blissful quiet of the night. - - -V. A SUMMER MOON - - Queen-moon of this enchanted summer night, - One virgin slave companioning thee,--I lie - Vacant to thy possession as this sky - Conquered and calmed by thy rejoicing might; - Swim down through my heart’s deep, thou dewy bright - Wanderer of heaven, till thought must faint and die, - And I am made all thine inseparably, - Resolved into the dream of thy delight. - Ah no! the place is common for her feet, - Not here, not here,--beyond the amber mist, - And breadths of dusky pine, and shining lawn, - And unstirred lake, and gleaming belts of wheat, - She comes upon her Latmos, and has kissed - The sidelong face of blind Endymion. - - -VI. A PEACH - - If any sense in mortal dust remains - When mine has been refined from flower to flower, - Won from the sun all colours, drunk the shower - And delicate winy dews, and gained the gains - Which elves who sleep in airy bells, a-swing - Through half a summer day, for love bestow, - Then in some warm old garden let me grow - To such a perfect, lush, ambrosian thing - As this. Upon a southward-facing wall - I bask, and feel my juices dimly fed - And mellowing, while my bloom comes golden grey: - Keep the wasps from me! but before I fall - Pluck me, white fingers, and o’er two ripe-red - Girl lips O let me richly swoon away! - - -VII. EARLY AUTUMN - - If while I sit flatter’d by this warm sun - Death came to me, and kissed my mouth and brow, - And eyelids which the warm light hovers through, - I should not count it strange. Being half won - By hours that with a tender sadness run, - Who would not softly lean to lips which woo - In the Earth’s grave speech? Nor could it aught undo - Of Nature’s calm observances begun - Still to be here the idle autumn day. - Pale leaves would circle down, and lie unstirr’d - Where’er they fell; the tired wind hither call - Her gentle fellows; shining beetles stray - Up their green courts; and only yon shy bird - A little bolder grow ere evenfall. - - -VIII. LATER AUTUMN - - This is the year’s despair: some wind last night - Utter’d too soon the irrevocable word, - And the leaves heard it, and the low clouds heard; - So a wan morning dawned of sterile light; - Flowers drooped, or showed a startled face and white; - The cattle cowered, and one disconsolate bird - Chirped a weak note; last came this mist and blurred - The hills, and fed upon the fields like blight. - Ah, why so swift despair! There yet will be - Warm noons, the honey’d leavings of the year, - Hours of rich musing, ripest autumn’s core, - And late-heaped fruit, and falling hedge-berry, - Blossoms in cottage-crofts, and yet, once more, - A song, not less than June’s, fervent and clear. - - - - -THE HEROINES - - - - -HELENA - -(_Tenth year of Troy-Siege_) - - - She stood upon the wall of windy Troy, - And lifted high both arms, and cried aloud - With no man near:-- - “Troy-town and glory of Greece - Strive, let the flame aspire, and pride of life - Glow to white heat! Great lords be strong, rejoice, - Lament, know victory, know defeat--then die; - Fair is the living many-coloured play - Of hates and loves, and fair it is to cease, - To cease from these and all Earth’s comely things. - I, Helena, impatient of a couch - Dim-scented, and dark eyes my face had fed, - And soft captivity of circling arms, - Come forth to shed my spirit on you, a wind - And sunlight of commingling life and death. - City and tented plain behold who stands - Betwixt you! Seems she worth a play of swords, - And glad expense of rival hopes and hates? - Have the Gods given a prize which may content, - Who set your games afoot,--no fictile vase, - But a sufficient goblet of great gold, - Embossed with heroes, filled with perfumed wine? - How! doubt ye? Thus I draw the robe aside - And bare the breasts of Helen. - - Yesterday - A mortal maiden I beheld, the light - Tender within her eyes, laying white arms - Around her sire’s mailed breast, and heard her chide - Because his cheek was blood-splashed,--I beheld - And did not wish me her. O, not for this - A God’s blood thronged within my mother’s veins! - For no such tender purpose rose the swan - With ruffled plumes, and hissing in his joy - Flashed up the stream, and held with heavy wings - Leda, and curved the neck to reach her lips, - And stayed, nor left her lightly. It is well - To have quickened into glory one supreme, - Swift hour, the century’s fiery-hearted bloom, - Which falls,--to stand a splendour paramount, - A beacon of high hearts and fates of men, - A flame blown round by clear, contending winds, - Which gladden in the contest and wax strong. - Cities of Greece, fair islands, and Troy town, - Accept a woman’s service; these my hands - Hold not the distaff, ply not at the loom; - I store from year to year no well-wrought web - For daughter’s dowry; wide the web I make, - Fine-tissued, costly as the Gods desire, - Shot with a gleaming woof of lives and deaths, - Inwrought with colours flowerlike, piteous, strange. - Oblivion yields before me: ye winged years - Which make escape from darkness, the red light - Of a wild dawn upon your plumes, I stand - The mother of the stars and winds of heaven, - Your eastern Eos; cry across the storm! - Through me man’s heart grows wider; little town - Asleep in silent sunshine and smooth air, - While babe grew man beneath your girdling towers, - Wake, wonder, lift the eager head alert, - Snake-like, and swift to strike, while altar-flame - Rises for plighted faith with neighbour town - That slept upon the mountain-shelf, and showed - A small white temple in the morning sun. - Oh, ever one way tending you keen prows - Which shear the shadowy waves when stars are faint - And break with emulous cries unto the dawn, - I gaze and draw you onward; splendid names - Lurk in you, and high deeds, and unachieved - Virtues, and house-o’erwhelming crimes, while life - Leaps in sharp flame ere all be ashes grey. - Thus have I willed it ever since the hour - When that great lord, the one man worshipful, - Whose hands had haled the fierce Hippolyta - Lightly from out her throng of martial maids, - Would grace his triumph, strengthen his large joy - With splendour of the swan-begotten child, - Nor asked a ten years’ siege to make acquist - Of all her virgin store. No dream that was,-- - The moonlight in the woods, our singing stream, - Eurotas, the sleek panther at my feet, - And on my heart a hero’s strong right hand. - O draught of love immortal! Dastard world - Too poor for great exchange of soul, too poor - For equal lives made glorious! O too poor - For Theseus and for Helena! - - Yet now - It yields once more a brightness, if no love; - Around me flash the tides, and in my ears - A dangerous melody and piercing-clear - Sing the twin siren-sisters, Death and Life; - I rise and gird my spirit for the close. - - Last night Cassandra cried ‘Ruin, ruin, and ruin!’ - I mocked her not, nor disbelieved; the gloom - Gathers, and twilight takes the unwary world. - Hold me, ye Gods, a torch across the night, - With one long flare blown back o’er tower and town, - Till the last things of Troy complete themselves: - --Then blackness, and the grey dust of a heart.” - - - - -ATALANTA - - - “Milanion, seven years ago this day - You overcame me by a golden fraud, - Traitor, and see I crown your cup with flowers, - With violets and white sorrel from dim haunts,-- - A fair libation--ask you to what God? - To Artemis, to Artemis my Queen. - - Not by my will did you escape the spear - Though piteous I might be for your glad life, - Husband, and for your foolish love: the Gods - Who heard your vows had care of you: I stooped - Half toward the beauty of the shining thing - Through some blind motion of an instant joy,-- - As when our babe reached arms to pluck the moon - A great, round fruit between dark apple-boughs,-- - And half, marking your wile, to fling away - Needless advantage, conquer carelessly, - And pass the goal with one light finger-touch - Just while you leaned forth the bent body’s length - To reach it. Could I guess I strove with three, - With Aphrodite, Eros, and the third-- - Milanion? There upon the maple-post - Your right hand rested: the event had sprung - Complete from darkness, and possessed the world - Ere yet conceived: upon the edge of doom - I stood with foot arrested and blind heart, - Aware of nought save some unmastered fate - And reddening neck and brow. I heard you cry - ‘Judgment, both umpires!’ saw you stand erect, - Panting, and with a face so glad, so great - It shone through all my dull bewilderment - A beautiful uncomprehended joy, - One perfect thing and bright in a strange world. - But when I looked to see my father shamed, - A-choke with rage and words of proper scorn, - He nodded, and the beard upon his breast - Pulled twice or thrice, well-pleased, and laughed aloud, - And while the wrinkles gathered round his eyes - Cried ‘Girl, well done! My brother’s son retain - Shrewd head upon your shoulders! Maidens ho! - A veil for Atalanta, and a zone - Male fingers may unclasp! Lead home the bride, - Prepare the nuptial chamber!’ At his word - My life turned round: too great the shame had grown - With all men leagued to mock me. Could I stay, - Confront the vulgar gladness of the world - At high emprise defeated, a free life - Tethered, light dimmed, a virtue singular - Subdued to ways of common use and wont? - Must I become the men’s familiar jest, - The comment of the matron-guild? I turned, - I sought the woods, sought silence, solitude, - Green depths divine, where the soft-footed ounce - Lurks, and the light deer comes and drinks and goes, - Familiar paths in which the mind might gain - Footing, and haply from a vantage-ground - Drive this new fate an arm’s-length, hand’s-breadth off - A little while, till certitude of sight - And strength returned. - - At evening I went back, - Walked past the idle groups at gossipry, - Sought you, and laid my hand upon your wrist, - Drew you apart, and with no shaken voice - Spoke, while the swift, hard strokes my heart out-beat - Seemed growing audible, ‘Milanion, - I am your wife for freedom and fair deeds: - Choose: am I such an one a man could love? - What need you? Some soft song to soothe your life, - Or a clear cry at daybreak?’ And I ceased. - How deemed you that first moment? That the Gods - Had changed my heart? That I since morn had grown - Haunter of Aphrodite’s golden shrine, - Had kneeled before the victress, vowed my vow, - Besought her pardon, ‘Aphrodite, grace! - Accept the rueful Atalanta’s gifts, - Rose wreaths and snow-white doves’? - - In the dim woods - There is a sacred place, a solitude - Within their solitude, a heart of strength - Within their strength. The rocks are heaped around - A goblet of great waters ever fed - By one swift stream which flings itself in air - With all the madness, mirth and melody - Of twenty rivulets gathered in the hills - Where might escapes in gladness. Here the trees - Strike deeper roots into the heart of earth, - And hold more high communion with the heavens; - Here in the hush of noon the silence broods - More full of vague divinity; the light - Slow-changing and the shadows as they shift - Seem characters of some inscrutable law, - And one who lingers long will almost hope - The secret of the world may be surprised - Ere he depart. It is a haunt beloved - Of Artemis, the echoing rocks have heard - Her laughter and her lore, and the brown stream - Flashed, smitten by the splendour of her limbs. - Hither I came; here turned, and dared confront - Pursuing thoughts; here held my life at gaze, - If ruined at least to clear loose wrack away, - Study its lines of bare dismantlement, - And shape a strict despair. With fixed hard lips, - Dry-eyed, I set my face against the stream - To deal with fate; the play of woven light - Gleaming and glancing on the rippled flood - Grew to a tyranny; and one visioned face - Would glide into the circle of my sight, - Would glide and pass away, so glad, so great - The imminent joy it brought seemed charged with fear. - I rose, and paced from trunk to trunk, brief track - This way and that; at least my will maintained - Her law upon my limbs; they needs must turn - At the appointed limit. A keen cry - Rose from my heart--‘Toils of the world grow strong, - ‘Yield strength, yield strength to rend them to my hands; - ‘Be thou apparent, Queen! in dubious ways - ‘Lo my feet fail; cry down the forest glade, - ‘Pierce with thy voice the tangle and dark boughs, - ‘Call, and I follow thee.’ - - What things made up - Memorial for the Presence of the place - Thenceforth to hold? Only the torrent’s leap - Endlessly vibrating, monotonous rhythm - Of the swift footstep pacing to and fro, - Only a soul’s reiterated cry - Under the calm, controlling, ancient trees, - And tutelary ward and watch of heaven - Felt through steep inlets which the upper airs - Blew wider. - - On the grass at last I lay - Seized by a peace divine, I know not how; - Passive, yet never so possessed of power, - Strong, yet content to feel not use my strength - Sustained a babe upon the breasts of life - Yet armed with adult will, a shining spear. - O strong deliverance of the larger law - Which strove not with the less! impetuous youth - Caught up in ampler force of womanhood! - Co-operant ardours of joined lives! the calls - Of heart to heart in chase of strenuous deeds! - Virgin and wedded freedom not disjoined, - And loyal married service to my Queen! - - Husband, have lesser gains these seven good years - Been yours because you chose no gracious maid - Whose hands had woven in the women’s room - Many fair garments, while her dreaming heart - Had prescience of the bridal; one whose claims, - Tender exactions feminine, had pleased - Fond husband, one whose gentle gifts had pleased, - Soft playful touches, little amorous words, - Untutored thoughts that widened up toward yours, - With trustful homage of uplifted eyes, - And sweetest sorrows lightly comforted? - Have we two challenged each the other’s heart - Too highly? Have our joys been all too large, - No gleaming gems on finger or on neck - A man may turn and touch caressingly, - But ampler than this heaven we stand beneath-- - Wide wings of Presences august? Our lives, - Were it not better they had stood apart - A little space, letting the sweet sense grow - Of distance bridged by love? Had that full calm,-- - I may not question since you call it true,-- - Found in some rightness of a woman’s will, - Been gladder through perturbing touch of doubt, - By brief unrest made exquisitely aware - Of all its dear possession? Have our eyes - Met with too calm directness--soul to soul - Turned with the unerroneous long regard, - Until no stuff remains for dreams to weave, - Nought but unmeasured faithfulness, clear depths - Pierced by the sun, and yielding to the eye - Which searches, yet not fathoms? Did my lips - Lay on your lips too great a pledge of love - With awe too rapturous? Teach me how I fail, - Recount what things your life has missed through me, - Appease me with new needs; my strength is weak - Trembling toward perfect service.” - - In her eyes - Tears stood and utterance ceased. Wondering the boy - Parthenopœus stopped his play and gazed. - - - - -EUROPA - - - “He stood with head erect fronting the herd; - At the first sight of him I knew the God - And had no fear. The grass is sweet and long - Up the east land backed by a pale blue heaven: - Grey, shining gravel shelves toward the sea - Which sang and sparkled; between these he stood, - Beautiful, with imperious head, firm foot, - And eyes resolved on present victory, - Which swerved not from the full acquist of joy, - Calmly triumphant. Did I see at all - The creamy hide, deep dewlap, little horns, - Or hear the girls describe them? I beheld - Zeus, and the law of my completed life. - Therefore the ravishment of some great calm - Possessed me, and I could not basely start - Or scream; if there was terror in my breast - It was to see the inevitable bliss - In prone descent from heaven; apart I lived - Held in some solitude, intense and clear, - Even while amid the frolic girls I stooped - And praised the flowers we gathered, they and I, - Pink-streaked convolvulus the warm sand bears, - Orchids, dark poppies with the crumpled leaf, - And reeds and giant rushes from a pond - Where the blue dragon-fly shimmers and shifts. - All these were notes of music, harmonies - Fashioned to underlie a resonant song, - Which sang how no more days of flower-culling - Little Europa must desire; henceforth - The large needs of the world resumed her life, - So her least joy must be no trivial thing, - But ordered as the motion of the stars, - Or grand incline of sun-flower to the sun. - - By this the God was near; my soul waxed strong, - And wider orbed the vision of the world - As fate drew nigh. He stooped, all gentleness, - Inviting touches of the tender hands, - And wore the wreaths they twisted round his horns - In lordly-playful wise, me all this while - Summoning by great mandates at my heart, - Which silenced every less authentic call, - Away, away, from girlhood, home, sweet friends, - The daily dictates of my mother’s will, - Agenor’s cherishing hand, and all the ways - Of the calm household. I would fain have felt - Some ruth to part from these, the tender ties - Severing with thrills of passion. Can I blame - My heart for light surrender of things dear, - And hardness of a little selfish soul? - Nay: the decree of joy was over me, - There was the altar, I, the sacrifice - Foredoomed to life, not death; the victim bound - Looked for the stroke, the world’s one fact for her, - The blissful consummation: straight to this - Her course had tended from the hour of birth. - Even till this careless morn of maidenhood - A sudden splendour changed to life’s high noon: - For this my mother taught me gracious things, - My father’s thoughts had dealt with me, for this - The least flower blossomed, the least cloud went by, - All things conspired for this; the glad event - Summed my full past and held it, as the fruit - Holds the fair sequence of the bud and flower - In soft matureness. - - Now he bent the knee; - I never doubted of my part to do, - Nor lingered idly, since to veil command - In tender invitation pleased my lord; - I sat, and round his neck one arm I laid - Beyond all chance secure. Whether my weight - Or the soft pressure of the encircling arm - Quickened in him some unexpected bliss - I know not, but his flight was one steep rush. - O uncontrollable and joyous rage! - O splendour of the multitudinous sea! - Swift foam about my feet, the eager stroke - Of the strong swimmer, new sea-creatures brave, - And uproar of blown conch, and shouting lips - Under the open heaven; till Crete rose fair - With steadfast shining peak, and promontories. - - Shed not a leaf, O plane-tree, not a leaf, - Let sacred shadow, and slumbrous sound remain - Alway, where Zeus looked down upon his bride.” - - - - -ANDROMEDA - - - “This is my joy--that when my soul had wrought - Her single victory over fate and fear, - He came, who was deliverance. At the first, - Though the rough-bearded fellows bruised my wrists - Holding them backwards while they drove the bolts, - And stared around my body, workman-like, - I did not argue nor bewail; but when - The flash and dip of equal oars had passed, - And I was left a thing for sky and sea - To encircle, gaze on, wonder at, not save-- - The clear resolve which I had grasped and held, - Slipped as a dew-drop slips from some flower-cup - O’erweighted, and I longed to cry aloud - One sharp, great cry, and scatter the fixed will, - In fond self-pity. Have you watched night-long, - Above a face from which the life recedes, - And seen death set his seal before the dawn? - You do not shriek and clasp the hands, but just - When morning finds the world once more all good - And ready for wave’s leap and swallow’s flight, - There comes a drift from undiscovered flowers, - A drone of sailing bee, a dance of light - Among the awakened leaves, a touch, a tang, - A nameless nothing, and the world turns round, - And the full soul runs over, and tears flow, - And it is seen a piteous thing to die. - So fared it there with me; the ripple ran - Crisp to my feet; the tufted sea-pink bloomed - From a cleft rock, I saw the insects drop - From blossom into blossom; and the wide - Intolerable splendour of the sea, - Calm in a liquid hush of summer morn, - Girdled me, and no cloud relieved the sky. - I had refused to drink the proffered wine - Before they bound me, and my strength was less - Than needful: yet the cry escaped not, yet - My purpose had not fallen abroad in ruin; - Only the perfect knowledge I had won - Of things which fate decreed deserted me, - The vision I had held of life and death - Was blurred by some vague mist of piteousness, - Nor could I lean upon a steadfast will. - Therefore I closed both eyes resolved to search - Backwards across the abysm, and find Death there, - And hold him with my hand, and scan his face - By my own choice, and read his strict intent - On lip and brow,--not hunted to his feet - And cowering slavewise; ‘Death,’ I whispered, ‘Death,’ - Calling him whom I needed: and he came. - - Wherefore record the travail of the soul - Through darkness to grey light, the cloudy war, - The austere calm, the bitter victory? - It seemed that I had mastered fate, and held, - Still with shut eyes, the passion of my heart - Compressed, and cast the election of my will - Into that scale made heavy with the woe - Of all the world, and fair relinquished lives. - Suddenly the broad sea was vibrated, - And the air shaken with confused noise - Not like the steadfast plash and creak of oars, - And higher on my foot the ripple slid. - The monster was abroad beneath the sun. - This therefore was the moment--could my soul - Sustain her trial? And the soul replied - A swift, sure ‘Yes’: yet must I look forth once, - Confront my anguish, nor drop blindly down - From horror into horror: and I looked-- - O thou deliverance, thou bright victory - I saw thee, and was saved! The middle air - Was cleft by thy impatience of revenge, - Thy zeal to render freedom to things bound: - The conquest sitting on thy brow, the joy - Of thy unerring flight became to me - Nowise mere hope, but full enfranchisement. - A sculptor of the isles has carved the deed - Upon a temple’s frieze; the maiden chained - Lifts one free arm across her eyes to hide - The terror of the moment, and her head - Sideways averted writhes the slender neck: - While with a careless grace in flying curve, - And glad like Hermes in his aery poise, - Toward the gaping throat a youth extends - The sword held lightly. When to sacrifice - I pass at morn with my tall Sthenelos, - I smile, but do not speak. No! when my gaze - First met him I was saved; because the world - Could hold so brave a creature I was free: - Here one had come with not my father’s eyes - Which darkened to the clamour of the crowd, - And gave a grieved assent; not with the eyes - Of anguish-stricken Cassiopeia, dry - And staring as I passed her to the boat. - Was not the beauty of his strength and youth - Warrant for many good things in the world - Which could not be so poor while nourishing him? - What faithlessness of heart could countervail - The witness of that brow? What dastard chains? - Did he not testify of sovereign powers - O’ermatching evil, awful charities - Which save and slay, the terror of clear joy, - Unquenchable intolerance of ill, - Order subduing chaos, beauty pledged - To conquest of all foul deformities? - And was there need to turn my head aside, - I, who had one sole thing to do, no more, - To watch the deed? I know the careless grace - My Perseus wears in manage of the steed, - Or shooting the swift disc: not such the mode - Of that victorious moment of descent - When the large tranquil might his soul contains - Was gathered for a swift abolishment - Of proud brute-tyranny. He seemed in air - A shining spear which hisses in its speed - And smites through boss and breastplate. Did he see - Andromeda, who never glanced at her - But set his face against the evil thing? - I know not; yet one truth I may not doubt - How ere the wallowing monster blind and vast - Turned a white belly to the sun, he stood - Beside me with some word of comfort strong - Nourishing the heart like choral harmonies. - O this was then my joy, that I could give - A soul not saved from wretched female fright, - Or anarchy of self-abandoned will, - But one which had achieved deliverance, - And wrought with shaping hands among the stuff - Which fate presented. Had I shrunk from Death? - Might I not therefore unashamed accept-- - In a calm wonder of unfaltering joy-- - Life, the fair gift he laid before my feet? - Somewhat a partner of his deed I seemed; - His equal? Nay, yet upright at his side - Scarce lower by a head and helmet’s height - Touching my Perseus’ shoulder. - - He has wrought - Great deeds. Athena loves to honour him; - And I have borne him sons. Look, yonder goes - Lifting the bow, Eleios, the last-born.” - - - - -EURYDICE - - - “Now must this waste of vain desire have end: - Fetter these thoughts which traverse to and fro - The road which has no issue! We are judged. - O wherefore could I not uphold his heart? - Why claimed I not some partnership with him - In the strict test, urging my right of wife? - How have I let him fall? I, knowing thee - My Orpheus, bounteous giver of rich gifts, - Not all inured in practice of the will, - Worthier than I, yet weaker to sustain - An inner certitude against the blank - And silence of the senses; so no more - My heart helps thine, and henceforth there remains - No gift to thee from me, who would give all, - Only the memory of me growing faint - Until I seem a thing incredible, - Some high, sweet dream, which was not, nor could be. - Ay, and in idle fields of asphodel - Must it not be that I shall fade indeed, - No memory of me, but myself; these hands - Ceasing from mastery and use, my thoughts - Losing distinction in the vague, sweet air, - The heart’s swift pulses slackening to the sob - Of the forgetful river, with no deed - Pre-eminent to dare and to achieve, - No joy for climbing to, no clear resolve - From which the soul swerves never, no ill thing - To rid the world of, till I am no more - Eurydice, and shouldst thou at thy time - Descend, and hope to find a helpmate here, - I were grown slavish, like the girls men buy - Soft-bodied, foolish-faced, luxurious-eyed, - And meet to be another thing than wife. - - Would that it had been thus: when the song ceased - And laughterless Aidoneus lifted up - The face, and turned his grave persistent eyes - Upon the singer, I had forward stepped - And spoken--‘King! he has wrought well, nor failed, - Who ever heard divine large song like this, - Keener than sunbeam, wider than the air, - And shapely as the mould of faultless fruit? - And now his heart upon the gale of song - Soars with wide wing, and he is strong for flight, - Not strong for treading with the careful foot: - Grant me the naked trial of the will - Divested of all colour, scents and song: - The deed concerns the wife; I claim my share.’ - O then because Persephone was by - With shadowed eyes when Orpheus sang of flowers, - He would have yielded. And I stepping forth - From the clear radiance of the singer’s heights, - Made calm through vision of his wider truth, - And strengthened by deep beauty to hold fast - The presences of the invisible things, - Had led the way. I know how in that mood - He leans on me as babe on mother’s breast, - Nor could he choose but let his foot descend - Where mine left lightest pressure; so are passed - The brute three-visaged, and the flowerless ways, - Nor have I turned my head; and now behold - The greyness of remote terrestrial light, - And I step swifter. Does he follow still? - O surely since his will embraces mine - Closer than clinging hand can clasp a hand: - No need to turn and dull with visible proof - The certitude that soul relies on soul! - So speed we to the day; and now we touch - Warm grass, and drink the Sun. O Earth, O Sun, - Not you I need, but Orpheus’ breast, and weep - The gladdest tears that ever woman shed, - And may be weak awhile, and need to know - The sustenance and comfort of his arms. - - Self-foolery of dreams; come bitter truth. - Yet he has sung at least a perfect song - While the Gods heard him, and I stood beside - O not applauding, but at last content, - Fearless for him, and calm through perfect joy, - Seeing at length his foot upon the heights - Of highest song, by me discerned from far, - Now suddenly attained in confident - And errorless ascension. Did I ask - The lesser joy, lips’ touch and clasping arms, - Or was not this salvation? For I urged - Always, in jealous service to his art, - ‘Now thou hast told their secrets to the trees - Of which they muse through lullèd summer nights; - Thou hast gazed downwards in the formless gulf - Of the brute-mind, and canst control the will - Of snake, and brooding panther fiery-eyed, - And lark in middle heaven: leave these behind! - And let some careless singer of the fields - Set to the shallow sound of cymbal-stroke - The Faun a-dance; some less true-tempered soul, - Which cannot shape to harmony august - The splendour and the tumult of the world, - Inflame to frenzy of delirious rage - The Mœnad’s breast; yea, and the hearts of men, - Smoke of whose fire upcurls from little roofs, - Let singers of the wine-cup and the roast, - The whirling spear, the toy-like chariot-race, - And bickering counsel of contending kings - Delight them: leave thou these; sing thou for Gods.’ - And thou hast sung for Gods; and I have heard. - - I shall not fade beneath this sunless sky, - Mixed in the wandering, ineffectual tribe; - For these have known no moment when the soul - Stood vindicated, laying sudden hands - On immortality of joy, and love - Which sought not, saw not, knew not, could not know - The instruments of sense; I shall not fade. - Yea, and thy face detains me evermore - Within the realm of light. Love, wherefore blame - Thy heart because it sought me? Could the years’ - Whole sum of various fashioned happiness - Exceed the measure of that eager face - Importunate and pure, still lit with song, - Turning from song to comfort of my love, - And thirsty for my presence? We are saved! - Yield Heracles, thou brawn and thews of Zeus, - Yield up thy glory on Thessalian ground, - Competitor of Death in single strife! - The lyre methinks outdoes the club and fist, - And beauty’s ingress the outrageous force - Of tyrant though beneficent; supreme - This feat remains, a memory shaped for Gods. - - Nor canst thou wholly lose me from thy life; - Still I am with thee; still my hand keeps thine; - Now I restrain from too intemperate grief - Being a portion of the thoughts that claim - Thy service; now I urge with that good pain - Which wastes and feeds the spirit, a desire - Unending; now I lurk within thy will - As vigour; now am gleaming through the world - As beauty; and if greater thoughts must lay - Their solemn light on thee, outshining mine, - And in some far faint-gleaming hour of Hell - I stand unknown and muffled by the boat - Leaning an eager ear to catch some speech - Of thee, and if some comer tell aloud - How Orpheus who had loved Eurydice - Was summoned by the Gods to fill with joy - And clamour of celestial song the courts - Of bright Olympus,--I, with pang of pride - And pain dissolved in rapture, will return - Appeased, with sense of conquest stern and high.” - - But while she spoke, upon a chestnut trunk - Fallen from cliffs of Thracian Rhodope - Sat Orpheus, for he deemed himself alone, - And sang. But bands of wild-eyed women roamed - The hills, whom he had passed with calm disdain. - And now the shrilling Berecynthian pipe - Sounded, blown horn, and frantic female cries: - He ceased from song and looked for the event. - - - - -BY THE SEA - - -I. THE ASSUMPTION - - Why would the open sky not be denied - Possession of me, when I sat to-day - Rock-couched, and round my feet the soft slave lay, - My singing Sea, dark-bosom’d, dusky-eyed? - She breathed low mystery of song, she sighed, - And stirred herself, and set lithe limbs to play - In blandishing serpent-wreaths, and would betray - An anklet gleaming, or a swaying side. - Why could she not detain me? Why must I - Devote myself to the dread Heaven, adore - The spacious pureness, the large ardour? why - Sprang forth my heart as though all wanderings - Had end? To what last bliss did I upsoar - Beating on indefatigable wings? - - -II. THE ARTIST’S WAITING - - Tender impatience quickening, quickening; - O heart within me that art grown a sea, - How vexed with longing all thy live waves be, - How broken with desire! A ceaseless wing - O’er every green sea-ridge goes fluttering, - And there are cries and long reluctancy, - Swift ardours, and the clash of waters free, - Fain for the coming of some perfect Thing. - Emerge white Wonder, be thou born a Queen! - Let shine the splendours of thy loveliness - From the brow’s radiance to the equal poise - Of calm, victorious feet; let thy serene - Command go forth; replenish with strong joys - The spaces and the sea-deeps measureless. - - -III. COUNSELLORS - - Who are chief counsellors of me? Who know - My heart’s desire and every secret thing? - Three of one fellowship: the encompassing - Strong Sea, who mindful of Earth’s ancient woe - Still surges on with swift, undaunted flow - That no sad shore should lack his comforting; - And next the serene Sky, whether he ring - With flawless blue a wilderness, or show - Tranced in the Twilight’s arms his fair child-star; - Third of the three, eldest and lordliest, - Love, all whose wings are wide above my head, - Whose eyes are clearer heavens, whose lips have said - Low words more rare than the quired sea-songs are,-- - O Love, high things and stern thou counsellest. - - -IV. EVENING - - Light ebbs from off the Earth; the fields are strange, - Dusk, trackless, tenantless; now the mute sky - Resigns itself to Night and Memory, - And no wind will yon sunken clouds derange, - No glory enrapture them; from cot or grange - The rare voice ceases; one long-breathèd sigh, - And steeped in summer sleep the world must lie; - All things are acquiescing in the change. - Hush! while the vaulted hollow of the night - Deepens, what voice is this the sea sends forth, - Disconsolate iterance, a passionless moan? - Ah! now the Day is gone, and tyrannous Light, - And the calm presence of fruit-bearing Earth: - Cry, Sea! it is thy hour; thou art alone. - - -V. JOY - - Spring-tides of Pleasure in the blood, keen thrill - Of eager nerves,--but ended as a dream; - Look! the wind quickens, and the long waves gleam - Shoreward, and all this deep noon hour will fill - Each lone sea-cave with mirth immeasurable, - Huge sport of Ocean’s brood; yet eve’s red sky - Fades o’er spent waters, weltering sullenly, - The dank piled weed, the sand-waste grey and still. - Sad Pleasure in the moon’s control! But Joy - Is stable; is discovered law; the birth - Of dreadful light; life’s one imperative way; - The rigour hid in song; flowers’ strict employ - Which turn to meet their sun; the roll of Earth - Swift and perpetual through the night and day. - - -VI. OCEAN - - More than bare mountains ’neath a naked sky, - Or star-enchanted hollows of the night - When clouds are riven, or the most sacred light - Of summer dawns, art thou a mystery - And awe and terror and delight, O sea! - Our Earth is simple-hearted, sad to-day - Beneath the hush of snow, next morning gay - Because west-winds have promised to the lea - Violets and cuckoo-buds; and sweetly these - Live innocent lives, each flower in its green field, - Joying as children in sun, air, and sleep. - But thou art terrible, with the unrevealed - Burden of dim lamentful prophecies, - And thy lone life is passionate and deep. - - -VII. NEWS FOR LONDON - - Whence may I glean a just return, my friend, - For tidings of your great world hither borne? - What garbs of new opinion men have worn - I wot not, nor what fame world-without-end - Sprouted last night, nor know I to contend - For Irving or the Italian; but forlorn - In this odd angle of the isle from morn - Till eve, nor sow, nor reap, nor get, nor spend. - Yet have I heard the sea-gulls scream for glee - Treading the drenched rock-ridges, and the gale - Hiss over tremulous heath-bells, while the bee - Driven sidelong quested low; and I have seen - The live sea-hollows, and moving mounds grey-green, - And watched the flying foam-bow flush and fail. - - - - -AMONG THE ROCKS - - - Never can we be strangers, you and I, - Nor quite disown our mysteries of kin, - Grey Sea-rocks, since I sat an hour to-day - Companion of the Ocean and of you. - I, sensitive soft flesh a thorn invades, - The light breath of a rose can win aside, - Flesh fashioned to be hourly tried and thrill’d, - Delighted, tortured, to betray whose ward - The unready heart is ruler, still surprised, - With emissary flushes swift and false, - And tremulous to touches of the stars. - You, spiny ridges of the land, rude backs, - Clawless and wingless, half-created things, - Monsters at ease before the sun and sea, - Untamed, unshrinking, unpersuadable, - My kindred. - - For the wide-delivering womb - Which casts abroad a mammoth as a man, - And still conceals the new and better birth, - Bore me and you. Old parents of the Sphinx - What words primeval murmured in my ears - To-day between the lapping of the waves? - What recognitions flashed and disappeared? - What rare faint touches passed of sympathy - From you to me, from me to you? What sense - Of the ancestral things shadowed the heart, - Cloud-like, and with the pleasure of a cloud. - Therefore I know from henceforth that the shrill - Short crying of the sea-lark when his feet - Touch where the wave slips off the shining sand - Pierces you; and the wide and luminous air - Impregnate with sharp sea smells is to you - A passion and allurement; and the sun - At mid-day loads your sense with drowsy warmth, - And in the waver and echo of your caves, - You cherish memories of the billowy chaunt, - And ponder its dim prophecy. - - And I,-- - Lo here I strike upon the granite too, - Something is here austere and obdurate - As you are, something rugged and untamed. - A strength behind the will. I am not all - The shapely, agile creature named a man, - So artful, with the quick-conceiving brain, - Nerve-network, and the hand to grasp and hold, - Most dexterous of kinds that wage the strife - Of being through the years. I am not all - This creature with the various heart, alive - To curious joys, rare anguish, skilled in shames, - Prides, hatreds, loves, fears, frauds, the heart which turns - A sudden venomous asp, the heart which bleeds - The red, great drops of glad self-sacrifice. - Pierce below these and seek the primal layer! - Behind Apollo loom the Earth-born Ones, - Half-god, half-brute; behind this symmetry, - This versatility of heart and brain - A strength abides, sustaining thought and love, - Untamed, unshrinking, unpersuadable, - At ease before the powers of Earth and Heaven, - Equal to any, of no younger years, - Calm as the greatest, haughty as the best, - Of imprescriptible authority. - - Down upon you I sink, and leave myself, - My vain, frail self, and find repose on you, - Prime Force, whether amassed through myriad years - From dear accretions of dead ancestry, - Or ever welling from the source of things - In undulation vast and unperceived, - Down upon you I sink and lose myself! - - My child that shouts and races on the sand - Your cry restores me. Have I been with Pan, - Kissing the hoofs of his goat-majesty? - You come, no granite of the nether earth, - Bright sea-flower rather, shining foam that flies, - Yet sweet as blossom of our inland fields. - - - - -TO A YEAR - - - Fly, Year, not backward down blind gulfs of night, - Thick with the swarm of miscreated things: - Forth, flying year, through calms and broader light, - Clear-eyed, strong-bosom’d year, on strenuous wings; - Bearing a song more high-intoned, more holy - Than the wild Swan’s melodious melancholy, - More rapturous than the atom lark outflings. - - I follow on slow foot and unsubdued: - Have I not heard thy cry across the wind? - Not seen thee, Slayer of the serpent brood,-- - Error, and doubt, and death, and anguish blind? - I follow, I shall know thee by thy plumes - Flame-tipped, when on that morn of conquered tombs, - I praise amidst my years the doom assigned. - - - - -A SONG OF THE NEW DAY - - - The tender Sorrows of the twilight leave me, - And shall I want the fanning of smooth wings? - Shall I not miss sweet sorrows? Will it grieve me - To hear no cooing from soft dove-like things? - - Let Evening hear them! O wide Dawn uprisen, - Know me all thine; and ye, whose level flight - Has pierced the drear hours and the cloudy prison, - Cry for the pathless spaces and the light! - - - - -SWALLOWS - - - Wide fields of air left luminous, - Though now the uplands comprehend - How the sun’s loss is ultimate: - The silence grows; but still to us - From yon air-winnowing breasts elate - The tiny shrieks of glee descend. - - Deft wings, each moment is resigned - Some touch of day, some pulse of light, - While yet in poised, delicious curve, - Ecstatic doublings down the wind, - Light dash and dip and sidelong swerve, - You try each dainty trick of flight. - - Will not your airy glee relent - At all? The aimless frolic cease? - Know ye no touch of quelling pain, - Nor joy’s more strict admonishment, - No tender awe at day-light’s wane, - Ye slaves of delicate caprice? - - Hush, once again that cry intense! - High-venturing spirits have your will! - Urge the last freak, prolong your glee, - Keen voyagers, while still the immense - Sea-spaces haunt your memory, - With zests and pangs ineffable. - - Not in the sunshine of old woods - Ye won your warrant to be gay - By duteous, sweet observances, - Who dared through darkening solitudes, - And ’mid the hiss of alien seas, - The larger ordinance obey. - - - - -MEMORIALS OF TRAVEL - - -I. COACHING - -(_In Scotland_) - - - Where have I been this perfect summer day, - --Or _fortnight_ is it, since I rose from bed, - Devour’d that kippered fish, the oatmeal bread, - And mounted to this box? O bowl away - Swift stagers through the dusk, I will not say - “Enough,” nor care where I have been or be, - Nor know one name of hill, or lake, or lea, - Or moor, or glen! Were not the clouds at play - Nameless among the hills, and fair as dreams? - On such a day we must love things not words, - And memory take or leave them as they are. - On such a day! What unimagined streams - Are in the world, how many haunts of birds, - What fields and flowers,--and what an evening Star! - - -II. IN A MOUNTAIN PASS - -(_In Scotland_) - - To what wild blasts of tyrannous harmony - Uprose these rocky walls, mass threatening mass, - Dusk, shapeless shapes, around a desolate pass? - What deep heart of the ancient hills set free - The passion, the desire, the destiny - Of this lost stream? Yon clouds that break and form, - Light vanward squadrons of the joyous storm, - They gather hither from what untrack’d sea? - Primeval kindred! here the mind regains - Its vantage ground against the world; here thought - Wings up the silent waste of air on broad - Undaunted pinion; man’s imperial pains - Are ours, and visiting fears, and joy unsought, - Native resolve, and partnership with God. - - -III. THE CASTLE - -(_In Scotland_) - - The tenderest ripple touched and touched the shore; - The tenderest light was in the western sky;-- - Its one soft phrase, closing reluctantly, - The sea articulated o’er and o’er - To comfort all tired things; and one might pore, - Till mere oblivion took the heart and eye, - On that slow-fading, amber radiancy - Past the long levels of the ocean-floor. - A turn,--the castle fronted me, four-square, - Holding its seaward crag, abrupt, intense - Against the west, an apparition bold - Of naked human will; I stood aware, - With sea and sky, of powers unowned of sense, - Presences awful, vast, and uncontrolled. - - -IV. Άισθητιχή φαντασία - -(_In Ireland_) - - The sound is in my ears of mountain streams! - I cannot close my lids but some grey rent - Of wildered rock, some water’s clear descent - In shattering crystal, pine-trees soft as dreams - Waving perpetually, the sudden gleams - Of remote sea, a dear surprise of flowers, - Some grace or wonder of to-day’s long hours - Straightway possesses the moved sense, which teems - With fantasy unbid. O fair, large day! - The unpractised sense brings heavings from a sea - Of life too broad, and yet the billows range, - The elusive footing glides. Come, Sleep, allay - The trouble with thy heaviest balms, and change - These pulsing visions to still Memory. - - -V. ON THE SEA-CLIFF - -(_In Ireland_) - - Ruins of a church with its miraculous well, - O’er which the Christ, a squat-limbed dwarf of stone, - Great-eyed, and huddled on his cross, has known - The sea-mists and the sunshine, stars that fell - And stars that rose, fierce winter’s chronicle, - And centuries of dead summers. From his throne - Fronting the dawn the elf has ruled alone, - And saved this region fair from pagan hell. - Turn! June’s great joy abroad; each bird, flower, stream - Loves life, loves love; wide ocean amorously - Spreads to the sun’s embrace; the dulse-weeds sway, - The glad gulls are afloat. Grey Christ to-day - Our ban on thee! Rise, let the white breasts gleam, - Unvanquished Venus of the northern sea! - - -VI. ASCETIC NATURE - -(_In Ireland_) - - Passion and song, and the adornèd hours - Of floral loveliness, hopes grown most sweet, - And generous patience in the ripening heat, - A mother’s bosom, a bride’s face of flowers - --Knows Nature aught so fair? Witness ye Powers - Which rule the virgin heart of this retreat - To rarer issues, ye who render meet - Earth, purged and pure, for gracious heavenly dowers! - The luminous pale lake, the pearl-grey sky, - The wave that gravely murmurs meek desires, - The abashed yet lit expectance of the whole, - --These and their beauty speak of earthly fires - Long quenched, clear aims, deliberate sanctity,-- - O’er the white forehead lo! the aureole. - - -VII. RELICS - -(_In Switzerland_) - - What relic of the dear, dead yesterday - Shall my heart keep? The visionary light - Of dawn? Alas! it is a thing too bright, - God does not give such memories away. - Nor choose I one fair flower of those that sway - To the chill breathing of the waterfall - In rocky angles black with scattering spray, - Fair though no sunbeam lays its coronal - Of light on their pale brows; nor glacier-gleam - I choose, nor eve’s red glamour; ’twas at noon - Resting I found this speedwell, while a stream, - That knew the immemorial inland croon, - Sang in my ears, and lulled me to a dream - Of English meadows, and one perfect June. - - -VIII. ON THE PIER OF BOULOGNE - -(_A Reminiscence of 1870_) - - A venal singer to a thrumming note - Chanted the civic war-song, that red flower - Of melody seized in a sudden hour - By frenzied winds of change, and borne afloat - A live light in the storm; and now by rote - To a cold crowd, while vague and sad the tide - Loomed after sunset and the grey gulls cried, - The verses quavered from a hireling throat. - Wherefore should English eyes their right forbear, - Or droop for smitten France? let the tossed sou, - Before they turn, be quittance for the stare. - O Lady, who, clear-voiced, with impulse true - To lift that cry “_To Arms!_” alone would dare, - My heart received a golden alms from you! - - -IX. DOVER - -(_In a Field_) - - A joy has met me on this English ground - I looked not for. O gladness, fields still green! - Listen,--the going of a murmurous sound - Along the corn; there is not to be seen - In all the land a single pilèd sheaf - Or line of grain new-fallen, and not a tree - Has felt as yet within its lightest leaf - The year’s despair; nay, Summer saves for me - Her bright, late flowers. O my Summer-time - Named low as lost, I turn, and find you here-- - Where else but in our blessed English clime - That lingers o’er the sweet days of the year, - Days of long dreaming under spacious skies - Ere melancholy winds of Autumn rise. - - - - -AN AUTUMN SONG - - - Long Autumn rain; - White mists which choke the vale, and blot the sides - Of the bewildered hills; in all the plain - No field agleam where the gold pageant was, - And silent o’er a tangle of drenched grass - The blackbird glides. - - In the heart,--fire, - Fire and clear air and cries of water-springs, - And large, pure winds; all April’s quick desire, - All June’s possession; a most fearless Earth - Drinking great ardours; and the rapturous birth - Of wingèd things. - - - - -BURDENS - - - Are sorrows hard to bear,--the ruin - Of flowers, the rotting of red fruit, - A love’s decease, a life’s undoing, - And summer slain, and song-birds mute, - And skies of snow and bitter air? - These things, you deem, are hard to bear. - - But ah, the burden, the delight - Of dreadful joys! Noon opening wide, - Golden and great; the gulfs of night, - Fair deaths, and rent veils cast aside, - Strong soul to strong soul rendered up, - And silence filling like a cup. - - - - -SONG - -(From “’Tis Pity she’s a Queen.”--A.D. 1610.) - - -ACT IV. SCENE 2. - -_The_ LADY MARGARET, _with_ SUSAN _and_ LUCY; LADY M. _at her embroidery -frame, singing_. - - Girls, when I am gone away, - On this bosom strew - Only flowers meek and pale, - And the yew. - - Lay these hands down by my side, - Let my face be bare; - Bind a kerchief round the face, - Smooth my hair. - - Let my bier be borne at dawn, - Summer grows so sweet, - Deep into the forest green - Where boughs meet. - - Then pass away, and let me lie - One long, warm, sweet day - There alone with face upturn’d, - One sweet day. - - While the morning light grows broad, - While noon sleepeth sound, - While the evening falls and faints, - While the world goes round. - - _Susan._ Whence had you this song, lady? - - _L. Mar._ Out of the air; - From no one an it be not from the wind - That goes at noonday in the sycamore trees. - --When said the tardy page he would return? - - _Susan._ By twelve, upon this very hour. - - _L. Mar._ Look now, - The sand falls down the glass with even pace, - The shadows lie like yesterday’s. Nothing - Is wrong with the world. You are a part of it,-- - I stand within a magic circle charm’d - From reach of anything, shut in from you, - Leagues from my needle, and this frame I touch, - Waiting till doomsday come-- - [_Knocking heard_] The messenger! - Quick, I will wait you here, and hold my heart - Ready for death, or too much ravishment. - -[_Exeunt both Girls._] - - How the little sand-hill slides and slides; how many - Red grains would drop while a man’s keen knife drawn - Across one’s heart let the red life out? - - _Susan._ [_returning_] Lady! - - _L. Mar._ I know it by your eyes. O do not fear - To tell all punctually: I am carved of stone. - - - - -BY THE WINDOW - - - Still deep into the West I gazed; the light - Clear, spiritual, tranquil as a bird - Wide-winged that soars on the smooth gale and sleeps, - Was it from sun far-set or moon unrisen? - Whether from moon, or sun, or angel’s face - It held my heart from motion, stayed my blood, - Betrayed each rising thought to quiet death - Along the blind charm’d way to nothingness, - Lull’d the last nerve that ached. It was a sky - Made for a man to waste his will upon, - To be received as wiser than all toil, - And much more fair. And what was strife of men? - And what was time? - - Then came a certain thing. - Are intimations for the elected soul - Dubious, obscure, of unauthentic power - Since ghostly to the intellectual eye, - Shapeless to thinking? Nay, but are not we - Servile to words and an usurping brain, - Infidels of our own high mysteries, - Until the senses thicken and lose the world, - Until the imprisoned soul forgets to see, - And spreads blind fingers forth to reach the day, - Which once drank light, and fed on angels’ food? - - It happened swiftly, came and straight was gone. - One standing on some aery balcony - And looking down upon a swarming crowd - Sees one man beckon to him with finger-tip - While eyes meet eyes; he turns and looks again-- - The man is lost, and the crowd sways and swarms. - Shall such an one say “Thus ’tis proved a dream, - And no hand beckoned, no eyes met my own?” - Neither can I say this. There was a hint, - A thrill, a summons faint yet absolute, - Which ran across the West; the sky was touch’d, - And failed not to respond. Does a hand pass - Lightly across your hair? you feel it pass - Not half so heavy as a cobweb’s weight, - Although you never stir; so felt the sky - Not unaware of the Presence, so my soul - Scarce less aware. And if I cannot say - The meaning and monition, words are weak - Which will not paint the small wing of a moth, - Nor bear a subtile odour to the brain, - And much less serve the soul in her large needs. - I cannot tell the meaning, but a change - Was wrought in me; it was not the one man - Who come to the luminous window to gaze forth, - And who moved back into the darkened room - With awe upon his heart and tender hope; - From some deep well of life tears rose; the throng - Of dusty cares, hopes, pleasures, prides fell off, - And from a sacred solitude I gazed - Deep, deep into the liquid eyes of Life. - - - - -SUNSETS - - - Did your eyes watch the mystic sunset splendours - Through evenings of old summers, slow of parting,-- - Wistful while loveliest gains and fair surrenders - Hallow’d the West,--till tremulous tears came starting? - - Did your soul wing her way on noiseless pinion - Through lucid fields of air, and penetrated - With light and silence roam the wide dominion - Where Day and Dusk embrace,--serene, unmated? - - And they are past the shining hours and tender, - And snows are fallen between, and winds are driven? - Nay, for I find across your face the splendour, - And in your wings the central winds of heaven. - - They reach me, those lost sunsets. Undivining - Your own high mysteries you pause and ponder; - See, in my eyes the vanished light is shining, - Feel, through what spaces of clear heaven I wander! - - - - -OASIS - - - Let them go by--the heats, the doubts, the strife; - I can sit here and care not for them now, - Dreaming beside the glimmering wave of life - Once more,--I know not how. - - There is a murmur in my heart, I hear - Faint, O so faint, some air I used to sing; - It stirs my sense; and odours dim and dear - The meadow-breezes bring. - - Just this way did the quiet twilights fade - Over the fields and happy homes of men, - While one bird sang as now, piercing the shade, - Long since,--I know not when. - - - - -FOREIGN SPEECH - - - Ah, do not tell me what they mean, - The tremulous brook, the scarcely stirred - June leaves, the hum of things unseen, - This sovran bird. - - Do they say things so deep, and rare, - And perfect? I can only tell - That they are happy, and can bear - Such ignorance well; - - Feeding on all things said and sung - From hour to hour in this high wood - Articulate in a strange, sweet tongue - Not understood. - - - - -IN THE TWILIGHT - - - A noise of swarming thoughts, - A muster of dim cares, a foil’d intent, - With plots and plans, and counterplans and plots; - And thus along the city’s edges grey - Unmindful of the darkening autumn day - With a droop’d head I went. - - My face rose,--through what spell?-- - Not hoping anything from twilight dumb: - One star possessed her heaven. Oh! all grew well - Because of thee, and thy serene estate: - Silence ... I let thy beauty make me great; - What though the black night come. - - - - -THE INNER LIFE - - -I. A DISCIPLE - - Master, they argued fast concerning Thee, - Proved what Thou art, denied what Thou art not, - Till brows were on the fret, and eyes grew hot, - And lip and chin were thrust out eagerly; - Then through the temple-door I slipped to free - My soul from secret ache in solitude, - And sought this brook, and by the brookside stood - The world’s Light, and the Light and Life of me. - It is enough, O Master, speak no word! - The stream speaks, and the endurance of the sky - Outpasses speech: I seek not to discern - Even what smiles for me Thy lips have stirred; - Only in Thy hand still let my hand lie, - And let the musing soul within me burn. - - -II. THEISTS - - Who needs God most? That man whose pulses play - With fullest life-blood; he whose foot dare climb - To Joy’s high limit, solitude sublime - Under a sky whose splendour sure must slay - If Godless; he who owns the sovereign sway - Of that small inner voice and still, what time - His whole life urges toward one blissful crime, - And Hell confuses Heaven, and night, the day. - It is he whose faithfulness of love puts by - Time’s anodyne, and that gross palliative, - A Stoic pride, and bears all humanly; - He whose soul grows one long desire to give - Measureless gifts; ah! let _him_ quickly die - Unless he lift frail hands to God and live. - - -III. SEEKING GOD - - I said “I will find God,” and forth I went - To seek Him in the clearness of the sky, - But over me stood unendurably - Only a pitiless, sapphire firmament - Ringing the world,--blank splendour; yet intent - Still to find God, “I will go and seek,” said I, - “His way upon the waters,” and drew nigh - An ocean marge weed-strewn and foam-besprent; - And the waves dashed on idle sand and stone, - And very vacant was the long, blue sea; - But in the evening as I sat alone, - My window open to the vanishing day, - Dear God! I could not choose but kneel and pray - And it sufficed that I was found of Thee. - - -IV. DARWINISM IN MORALS - - High instincts, dim previsions, sacred fears, - --Whence issuing? Are they but the brain’s amassed - Tradition, shapings of a barbarous past, - Remoulded ever by the younger years, - Mixed with fresh clay, and kneaded with new tears? - No more? The dead chief’s ghost a shadow cast - Across the roving clan, and thence at last - Comes God, who in the soul His law uprears? - Is this the whole? Has not the Future powers - To match the Past,--attractions, pulsings, tides, - And voices for purged ears? Is all our light - The glow of ancient sunsets and lost hours? - Advance no banners up heaven’s eastern sides? - Trembles the margin with no portent bright? - - -V. AWAKENING - - With brain o’erworn, with heart a summer clod, - With eye so practised in each form around,-- - And all forms mean,--to glance above the ground - Irks it, each day of many days we plod, - Tongue-tied and deaf, along life’s common road. - But suddenly, we know not how, a sound - Of living streams, an odour, a flower crowned - With dew, a lark upspringing from the sod, - And we awake. O joy and deep amaze! - Beneath the everlasting hills we stand, - We hear the voices of the morning seas, - And earnest prophesyings in the land, - While from the open heaven leans forth at gaze - The encompassing great cloud of witnesses. - - -VI. FISHERS - - We by no shining Galilean lake - Have toiled, but long and little fruitfully - In waves of a more old and bitter sea - Our nets we cast; large winds, that sleep and wake - Around the feet of Dawn and Sunset, make - Our spiritual inhuman company, - And formless shadows of water rise and flee - All night around us till the morning break. - Thus our lives wear--shall it be ever thus? - Some idle day, when least we look for grace, - Shall we see stand upon the shore indeed - The visible Master, and the Lord of us, - And leave our nets, nor question of His creed, - Following the Christ within a young man’s face? - - -VII. COMMUNION - - Lord, I have knelt and tried to pray to-night, - But Thy love came upon me like a sleep, - And all desire died out; upon the deep - Of Thy mere love I lay, each thought in light - Dissolving like the sunset clouds, at rest - Each tremulous wish, and my strength weakness, sweet - As a sick boy with soon o’erwearied feet - Finds, yielding him unto his mother’s breast - To weep for weakness there. I could not pray, - But with closed eyes I felt Thy bosom’s love - Beating toward mine, and then I would not move - Till of itself the joy should pass away; - At last my heart found voice,--“Take me, O Lord, - And do with me according to Thy word.” - - -VIII. A SONNET FOR THE TIMES - - What! weeping? Had ye your Christ yesterday, - Close wound in linen, made your own by tears, - Kisses, and pounds of myrrh, the sepulchre’s - Mere stone most venerable? And now ye say - “No man hath seen Him, He is borne away - We wot not where.” And so, with many a sigh, - Watching the linen clothes and napkin lie, - Ye choose about the grave’s sad mouth to stay. - Blind hearts! Why seek the living amongst the dead? - Better than carols for the babe new-born - The shining young men’s speech “He is not here;” - Why question where the feet lay, where the head? - Come forth; bright o’er the world breaks Easter morn, - He is arisen, Victor o’er grief and fear. - - -IX. EMMAUSWARD - - Lord Christ, if Thou art with us and these eyes - Are holden, while we go sadly and say - “We hoped it had been He, and now to-day - Is the third day, and hope within us dies,” - Bear with us, O our Master, Thou art wise - And knowest our foolishness; we do not pray - “Declare Thyself, since weary grows the way - And faith’s new burden hard upon us lies.” - Nay, choose Thy time; but ah! whoe’er Thou art - Leave us not; where have we heard any voice - Like Thine? Our hearts burn in us as we go; - Stay with us; break our bread; so, for our part - Ere darkness falls haply we may rejoice, - Haply when day has been far spent may know. - - -X. A FAREWELL - - Thou movest from us; we shall see Thy face - No more. Ah, look below these troubled eyes, - This woman’s heart in us that faints and dies, - Trust not our faltering lips, our sad amaze; - Glance some time downward from Thy golden place, - And know how we rejoice. It is meet, is wise; - High tasks are Thine, surrenders, victories, - Communings pure, mysterious works and ways. - Leave us: how should we keep Thee in these blown - Grey fields, or soil with earth a Master’s feet? - Nor deem us comfortless: have we not known - Thee once, for ever. Friend, the pain is sweet - Seeing Thy completeness to have grown complete, - Thy gift it is that we can walk alone. - - -XI. DELIVERANCE - - I prayed to be delivered, O true God, - Not from the foes that compass us about,-- - Them I might combat; not from any doubt - That wrings the soul; not from Thy bitter rod - Smiting the conscience; not from plagues abroad, - Nor my strong inward lusts; nor from the rout - Of worldly men, the scourge, the spit, the flout, - And the whole dolorous way the Master trod. - All these would rouse the life that lurks within, - Would save or slay; these things might be defied - Or strenuously endured; yea, pressed by sin - The soul is stung with sudden, visiting gleams; - Leave these, if Thou but scatter, Lord, I cried, - The counterfeiting shadows and vain dreams. - - -XII. PARADISE LOST - - O would you read that Hebrew legend true - Look deep into the little children’s eyes, - Who walk with naked souls in Paradise, - And know not shame; who, with miraculous dew - To keep the garden ever fair and new, - Want not our sobbing rains in their blue skies. - Among the trees God moves, and o’er them rise - All night in deeper heavens great stars to view. - Ah, how we wept when through the gate we came! - What boots it to look back? The world is ours, - Come, we will fare, my brothers, boldly forth; - Let that dread Angel wave the sword of flame - Forever idly round relinquished bowers-- - Leave Eden there; we will subdue the earth. - - - - -THE RESTING PLACE - - - How all things transitory, all things vain - Desert me! Whither am I sinking slow - On the prone wing, to what predestined home, - What peace beyond all peace, what ultimate joy? - Nay, cease from questioning, care not to know, - Let bliss dissolve each thought, all function cease, - Fold close the wing, let the soft-flowing light - Permeate, and merely once uplift drooped lids - To mark the world remote, the abandoned shore, - Fretted with much vain pleasure, futile pain, - Far, far. - - The deepening peace! a dawn of essences - Awful and incommunicably dear! - Grace opening into grace, joy quenching joy! - Thy waves and billows have gone over me - Blissful and calm, and still the dreams drop off, - And true things grow more true, and larger orbs - The strong salvation which has seized my soul. - - The stream of the attraction draws me on - Toward some centre; all will quickly end, - All be attained. The sweetness of repose - And this swift motion slay the consciousness - Of being, and bind up the will in sleep. - Silence and light accept my soul--I touch.... - Is it death’s centre or the breast of God? - - - - -NEW HYMNS FOR SOLITUDE - - -I - - I come to Thee not asking aught; I crave - No gift of Thine, no grace; - Yet where the suppliants enter let me have - Within Thy courts a place. - - My hands, my heart contain no offering; - Thy name I would not bless - With lips untouched by altar-fire; I bring - Only my weariness. - - These are the children, frequent in Thy home; - Grant, Lord, to each his share; - Then turn, and merely gaze on me, who come - To lay my spirit bare. - - -II - - Yet one more step--no flight - The weary soul can bear-- - Into a whiter light, - Into a hush more rare. - - Take me, I am all Thine, - Thine now, not seeking Thee,-- - Hid in the secret shrine, - Lost in the shoreless sea. - - Grant to the prostrate soul - Prostration new and sweet, - Make weak the weak, control - Thy creature at Thy feet. - - Passive I lie: shine down, - Pierce through the will with straight - Swift beams, one after one, - Divide, disintegrate, - - Free me from self,--resume - My place, and be Thou there; - Yet also keep me. Come - Thou Saviour and Thou Slayer! - - -III - - Nothing remains to say to Thee, O Lord, - I am confessed, - All my lips’ empty crying Thou hast heard, - My unrest, my rest. - Why wait I any longer? Thou dost stay, - And therefore, Lord, I would not go away. - - Let me be at Thy feet a little space, - Forget me here; - I will not touch Thy hand, nor seek Thy face, - Only be near, - And this hour let Thy nearness feed the heart, - And when Thou goest I also will depart. - - Then when Thou seekest Thy way, and I, mine - Let the World be - Not wide and cold after this cherishing shrine - Illum’d by Thee, - Nay, but worth worship, fair, a radiant star, - Tender and strong as Thy chief angels are. - - Yet bid me not go forth: I cannot now - Take hold on joy, - Nor sing the swift, glad song, nor bind my brow; - Her wise employ - Be mine, the silent woman at Thy knee - In the low room in little Bethany. - - -IV - - Ah, that sharp thrill through all my frame! - And yet once more! Withstand - I can no longer; in Thy name - I yield me to Thy hand. - - Such pangs were in the soul unborn, - The fear, the joy were such, - When first it felt in that keen morn - A dread, creating touch. - - Maker of man, Thy pressure sure - This grosser stuff must quell; - The spirit faints, yet will endure, - Subdue, control, compel. - - The Potter’s finger shaping me.... - Praise, praise! the clay curves up - Not for dishonour, though it be - God’s least adornèd cup. - - -V - - Sins grew a heavy load and cold, - And pressed me to the dust; - “Whither,” I cried, “can this be rolled - Ere I behold the Just?” - - But now I claim them for my own; - Thy face I needs must find; - Lo! thus I wrought, yea, I alone, - Not weak, beguiled, or blind. - - See my full arms, my heaped-up shame, - An evil load I bring: - Thou, God, art a consuming flame, - Accept the hateful thing. - - Pronounce the dread condemning word, - I stand in blessed fear; - Dear is Thy cleansing wrath, O Lord, - The fire that burns is dear. - - -VI - - I found Thee in my heart, O Lord, - As in some secret shrine; - I knelt, I waited for Thy word, - I joyed to name Thee mine. - - I feared to give myself away - To that or this; beside - Thy altar on my face I lay, - And in strong need I cried. - - Those hours are past. Thou art not mine, - And therefore I rejoice, - I wait within no holy shrine, - I faint not for the voice. - - In Thee we live; and every wind - Of heaven is Thine; blown free - To west, to east, the God unshrined - Is still discovering me. - - - - -IN THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE - - - In the Dean’s porch a nest of clay - With five small tenants may be seen, - Five solemn faces, each as wise - As though its owner were a Dean; - - Five downy fledglings in a row, - Packed close, as in the antique pew - The school-girls are whose foreheads clear - At the _Venite_ shine on you. - - Day after day the swallows sit - With scarce a stir, with scarce a sound, - But dreaming and digesting much - They grow thus wise and soft and round. - - They watch the Canons come to dine, - And hear the mullion-bars across, - Over the fragrant fruit and wine - Deep talk of rood-screen and reredos. - - Her hands with field-flowers drench’d, a child - Leaps past in wind-blown dress and hair, - The swallows turn their heads askew-- - Five judges deem that she is fair. - - Prelusive touches sound within, - Straightway they recognize the sign, - And, blandly nodding, they approve - The minuet of Rubinstein. - - They mark the cousins’ schoolboy talk, - (Male birds flown wide from minster bell), - And blink at each broad term of art, - Binomial or bicycle. - - Ah! downy young ones, soft and warm, - Doth such a stillness mask from sight - Such swiftness? can such peace conceal - Passion and ecstasy of flight? - - Yet somewhere ’mid your Eastern suns, - Under a white Greek architrave - At morn, or when the shaft of fire - Lies large upon the Indian wave, - - A sense of something dear gone-by - Will stir, strange longings thrill the heart - For a small world embowered and close, - Of which ye some time were a part. - - The dew-drench’d flowers, the child’s glad eyes - Your joy unhuman shall control, - And in your wings a light and wind - Shall move from the Maestro’s soul. - - - - -FIRST LOVE - - - My long first year of perfect love, - My deep new dream of joy; - She was a little chubby girl, - I was a chubby boy. - - I wore a crimson frock, white drawers, - A belt, a crown was on it; - She wore some angel’s kind of dress - And such a tiny bonnet, - - Old-fashioned, but the soft brown hair - Would never keep its place; - A little maid with violet eyes, - And sunshine in her face. - - O my child-queen, in those lost days - How sweet was daily living! - How humble and how proud I grew, - How rich by merely giving! - - She went to school, the parlour-maid - Slow stepping to her trot; - That parlour-maid, ah, did she feel - How lofty was her lot! - - Across the road I saw her lift - My Queen, and with a sigh - I envied Raleigh; my new coat - Was hung a peg too high. - - A hoard of never-given gifts - I cherished,--priceless pelf; - ’Twas two whole days ere I devour’d - That peppermint myself. - - In Church I only prayed for her-- - “O God bless Lucy Hill;” - Child, may His angels keep their arms - Ever around you still. - - But when the hymn came round, with heart - That feared some heart’s surprising - Its secret sweet, I climb’d the seat - ’Mid rustling and uprising; - - And there against her mother’s arm - The sleeping child was leaning, - While far away the hymn went on, - The music and the meaning. - - Oh I have loved with more of pain - Since then, with more of passion, - Loved with the aching in my love - After our grown-up fashion; - - Yet could I almost be content - To lose here at your feet - A year or two, you murmuring elm, - To dream a dream so sweet. - - - - -THE SECRET OF THE UNIVERSE: AN ODE - -(_By a Western Spinning Dervish_) - - - I spin, I spin, around, around, - And close my eyes, - And let the bile arise - From the sacred region of the soul’s Profound; - Then gaze upon the world; how strange! how new! - The earth and heaven are one, - The horizon-line is gone, - The sky how green! the land how fair and blue! - Perplexing items fade from my large view, - And thought which vexed me with its false and true - Is swallowed up in Intuition; this, - This is the sole true mode - Of reaching God, - And gaining the universal synthesis - Which makes All--One; while fools with peering eyes - Dissect, divide, and vainly analyse. - So round, and round, and round again! - How the whole globe swells within my brain, - The stars inside my lids appear, - The murmur of the spheres I hear - Throbbing and beating in each ear; - Right in my navel I can feel - The centre of the world’s great wheel. - Ah peace divine, bliss dear and deep, - No stay, no stop, - Like any top - Whirling with swiftest speed, I sleep. - O ye devout ones round me coming, - Listen! I think that I am humming; - No utterance of the servile mind - With poor chop-logic rules agreeing - Here shall ye find, - But inarticulate burr of man’s unsundered being. - Ah, could we but devise some plan, - Some patent jack by which a man - Might hold himself ever in harmony - With the great Whole, and spin perpetually, - As all things spin - Without, within, - As Time spins off into Eternity, - And Space into the inane Immensity, - And the Finite into God’s Infinity, - Spin, spin, spin, spin. - - - - -BEAU RIVAGE HOTEL - -SATURDAY EVENING - - - Below there’s a brumming and strumming - And twiddling and fiddling amain, - And sweeping of muslins and laughter, - And pattering of luminous rain. - - Fair England, resplendent Columbia, - Gaul, Teuton,--how precious a smother! - But the happiest is brisk little Polly - To galop with only her brother. - - And up to the fourth étage landing, - Come the violins’ passionate cries, - Where the pale femme-de-chambre is sitting - With sleep in her beautiful eyes. - - - - -IN A JUNE NIGHT - -(_A Study in the manner of Robert Browning_) - - -I - - See, the door opens of this alcove, - Here we are now in the cool night air - Out of the heat and smother; above - The stars are a wonder, alive and fair, - It is a perfect night,--your hand,-- - Down these steps and we reach the garden, - An odorous, dim, enchanted land, - With the dusk stone-god for only warden. - - -II - - Was I not right to bring you here? - We might have seen slip the hours within - Till God’s new day in the East were clear, - And His silence abashed the dancers’ din, - Then each have gone away, the pain - And longing greatened, not satisfied, - By a hand’s slight touch or a glance’s gain,-- - And now we are standing side by side! - - -III - - Come to the garden’s end,--not so, - Not by the grass, it would drench your feet; - See, here is a path where the trees o’ergrow - And the fireflies flicker; but, my sweet, - Lean on me now, for one cannot see - Here where the great leaves lie unfurled - To take the whole soul and the mystery - Of a summer night poured out for the world. - - -IV - - Into the open air once more! - Yonder’s the edge of the garden-wall - Where we may sit and talk,--deplore - This half-hour lost from so bright a ball, - Or praise my partner with the eyes - And the raven hair, or the other one - With her flaxen curls, and slow replies - As near asleep in the Tuscan sun. - - -V - - Hush! do you hear on the beach’s cirque - Just below, though the lake is dim, - How the little ripples do their work, - Fall and faint on the pebbled rim, - So they say what they want, and then - Break at the marge’s feet and die; - It is so different with us men - Who never can once speak perfectly. - - -VI - - Yet hear me,--trust that they mean indeed - Oh, so much more than the words will say - Or shall it be ’twixt us two agreed - That all we might spend a night and day - In striving to put in a word or thought, - Which were then from ourselves a thing apart, - Shall be just believed and quite forgot, - When my heart is felt against your heart. - - -VII - - Ah, but that will not tell you all, - How I am yours not thus alone, - To find how your pulses rise and fall, - And winning you wholly be your own, - But yours to be humble, could you grow - The Queen that you are, remote and proud, - And I with only a life to throw - Where the others’ flowers for your feet were strowed. - - -VIII - - Well, you have faults too! I can blame - If you choose: this hand is not so white - Or round as a little one that came - On my shoulder once or twice to-night - Like a soft white dove. Envy her now! - And when you talked to that padded thing - And I passed you leisurely by, your brow - Was cold, not a flush nor fluttering. - - -IX - - Such foolish talk! while that one star still - Dwells o’er the mountain’s margin-line - Till the dawn takes all; one may drink one’s fill - Of such quiet; there’s a whisper fine - In the leaves a-tremble, and now ’tis dumb; - We have lived long years, love, you and I, - And the heart grows faint; your lips, then: come,-- - It were not so very hard to die. - - - - -FROM APRIL TO OCTOBER - - -I. BEAUTY - - The beauty of the world, the loveliness - Of woodland pools, which doves have coo’d to sleep, - Dreaming the noontide through beneath the deep - Of heaven; the radiant blue’s benign caress - When April clouds are rifted; buds that bless - Each little nook and bower, where the leaves keep - Dew and light shadow, and quick lizards peep - For sunshine,--these, and the ancient stars no less, - And the sea’s mystery of dusk and bright - Are but the curious characters that lie, - Priestess of Beauty, in thy robe of light. - Ah, where, divine One, is thy veiled retreat, - That I may creep to it and clasp thy feet, - And gaze in thy pure face though I should die? - - -II. TWO INFINITIES - - A lonely way, and as I went my eyes - Could not unfasten from the Spring’s sweet things, - Lush-sprouted grass, and all that climbs and clings - In loose, deep hedges, where the primrose lies - In her own fairness, buried blooms surprise - The plunderer bee and stop his murmurings, - And the glad flutter of a finch’s wings - Outstartle small blue-speckled butterflies. - Blissfully did one speedwell plot beguile - My whole heart long; I loved each separate flower, - Kneeling. I looked up suddenly--Dear God! - There stretched the shining plain for many a mile, - The mountains rose with what invincible power! - And how the sky was fathomless and broad! - - -III. THE DAWN - - The Dawn,--O silence and wise mystery! - Was it a dream, the murmurous room, the glitter, - The tinkling songs, the dance, and that fair sitter - I talk’d æsthetics to so rapturously? - Sweet Heaven, thy silentness and purity, - Thy sister-words of blame, not railings bitter, - With these great quiet leaves, and the light twitter - Of small birds wakening in the greenery, - And one stream stepping quickly on its way - So well it knows the glad work it must do, - Reclaim a wayward heart scarce answering true - To that sweet strain of hours that closes May; - How the pale marge quickens with pulsings new, - O welcome to thy world thou fair, great day! - - -IV. THE SKYLARK - - There drops our lark into his secret nest! - All is felt silence and the broad blue sky; - Come, the incessant rain of melody - Is over; now earth’s quietudes invest, - In cool and shadowy limit, that wild breast - Which trembled forth the sudden ecstasy - Till raptures came too swift, and song must die - Since midmost deeps of heaven grew manifest. - My poet of the garden-walk last night - Sang in rich leisure, ceased and sang again, - Of pleasure in green leaves, of odours given - By flowers at dusk, and many a dim delight; - The finer joy was thine keen-edged with pain, - Soarer! alone with thy own heart and heaven. - - -V. THE MILL-RACE - - “Only a mill-race,” said they, and went by, - But we were wiser, spoke no word, and stayed; - It was a place to make the heart afraid - With so much beauty, lest the after sigh, - When one had drunk its sweetness utterly, - Should leave the spirit faint; a living shade - From beechen branches o’er the water played - To unweave that spell through which the conquering sky - Subdues the sweet will of each summer stream; - So this ran freshlier through the swaying weeds. - I gazed until the whole was as a dream, - Nor should have waked or wondered had I seen - Some smooth-limbed wood-nymph glance across the green, - Or Naiad lift a head amongst the reeds. - - -VI. IN THE WOOD - - A place where Una might have fallen asleep - Assured of quiet dreams, a place to make - Sad eyes bright with strange tears; a little lake - In the green heart of a wood; the crystal deep - Of heaven so wide if there should chance to stray - Into that stainless field some thin cloud-flake, - When not a breeze the trance of noon dare break, - About the middle it must melt away. - Lilies upon the water in their leaves, - Stirr’d by faint ripples that go curving on - To little reedy coves; a stream that grieves - To the fine grasses and wild flowers around; - And we two in a golden silence bound, - Not a line read of rich _Endymion_. - - -VII. THE PAUSE OF EVENING - - Nightward on dimmest wing in Twilight’s train - The grey hours floated smoothly, lingeringly; - A solemn wonder was the western sky - Rich with the slow forsaking sunset-stain, - Barred by long violet cloud; hillside and plain - The feet of Night had touched; a wind’s low sigh - Told of whole pleasure lapsed,--then rustled by - With soft subsidence in the rippling grain. - Why in dark dews, unready to depart, - Did Evening pause and ponder, nor perceive - Star follow star into the central blue? - What secret was the burden of her heart? - What grave, sweet memory grew she loath to leave? - What finer sense, no morrow may renew? - - -VIII. IN JULY - - Why do I make no poems? Good my friend - Now is there silence through the summer woods, - In whose green depths and lawny solitudes - The light is dreaming; voicings clear ascend - Now from no hollow where glad rivulets wend, - But murmurings low of inarticulate moods, - Softer than stir of unfledged cushat broods, - Breathe, till o’erdrowsed the heavy flower-heads bend. - Now sleep the crystal and heart-charmèd waves - Round white, sunstricken rocks the noontide long, - Or ’mid the coolness of dim lighted caves - Sway in a trance of vague deliciousness; - And I,--I am too deep in joy’s excess - For the imperfect impulse of a song. - - -IX. IN SEPTEMBER - - Spring scarce had greener fields to show than these - Of mid September; through the still warm noon - The rivulets ripple forth a gladder tune - Than ever in the summer; from the trees - Dusk-green, and murmuring inward melodies, - No leaf drops yet; only our evenings swoon - In pallid skies more suddenly, and the moon - Finds motionless white mists out on the leas. - Dear chance it were in some rough wood-god’s lair - A month hence, gazing on the last bright field, - To sink o’er-drowsed, and dream that wild-flowers blew - Around my head and feet silently there, - Till Spring’s glad choir adown the valley pealed, - And violets trembled in the morning dew. - - -X. IN THE WINDOW - - A still grey evening: Autumn in the sky, - And Autumn on the hills and the sad wold; - No congregated towers of pearl and gold - In the vaporous West, no fiend limned duskily, - No angel whose reared trump must soon be loud, - Nor mountains which some pale green lake enfold - Nor islands in an ocean glacial-cold; - Hardly indeed a noticeable cloud. - Yet here I lingered, all my will asleep, - Gazing an hour with neither joy nor pain, - No noonday trance in midsummer more deep; - And wake with a vague yearning in the dim, - Blind room, my heart scarce able to restrain - The idle tears that tremble to the brim. - - -XI. AN AUTUMN MORNING - - O what a morn is this for us who knew - The large, blue, summer mornings, heaven let down - Upon the earth for men to drink, the crown - Of perfect human living, when we grew - Great-hearted like the Gods! Come, we will strew - White ashes on our hair, nor strive to drown - In faint hymn to the year’s fulfilled renown - The sterile grief which is the season’s due. - Lightly above the vine-rows of rich hills - Where the brown peasant girls move amid grapes - The swallow glances; let him cry for glee! - But yon pale mist diffused ’twixt paler shapes,-- - Once sovereign trees,--my spirit also fills, - And an east-wind comes moaning from the sea. - - - - -SEA VOICES - - - Was it a lullaby the Sea went singing - About my feet, some old-world monotone, - Filled full of secret memories, and bringing - Not hope to sting the heart, but peace alone, - Sleep and the certitude of sleep to be - Wiser henceforth than all philosophy? - - Truth! did we seek for truth with eye and brain - Through days so many and wasted with desire? - Listen, the same long gulfing voice again: - Tired limbs lie slack as sands are, eyes that tire - Close gently, close forever, twilight grey - Receives you, tenderer than the glaring day. - -[_He sleeps, and after an interval awakes._] - - Ah terror, ah delight! A sudden cry, - Anguish, or hope, or triumph. Awake, arise,-- - The winds awake! Is ocean’s lullaby - This clarion-call? Her kiss, the spray that flies - Salt to the lip and cheek? Her motion light - Of nursing breasts, this swift pursuit and flight? - - O wild sea-voices! Victory and defeat, - But ever deathless passion and unrest, - White wings upon the wind and flying feet, - Disdain and wrath, a reared and hissing crest, - The imperious urge, and last, a whole life spent - In bliss of one supreme abandonment. - - - - -ABOARD THE “SEA-SWALLOW” - - - The gloom of the sea-fronting cliffs - Lay on the water, violet-dark, - The pennon drooped, the sail fell in, - And slowly moved our bark. - - A golden day; the summer dreamed - In heaven and on the whispering sea, - Within our hearts the summer dreamed; - The hours had ceased to be. - - Then rose the girls with bonnets loosed, - And shining tresses lightly blown, - Alice and Adela, and sang - A song of Mendelssohn. - - O sweet, and sad, and wildly clear, - Through summer air it sinks and swells, - Wild with a measureless desire, - And sad with all farewells. - - - - -SEA-SIGHING - - - This is the burden of the Sea, - Loss, failure, sorrows manifold; - Yet something though the voice sound free - Remains untold. - - Listen! that secret sigh again - Kept very low, a whole heart’s waste; - What means this inwardness of pain? - This sob repressed? - - Some ancient sin, some supreme wrong, - Some huge attempt God brought to nought, - All over while the world was young, - And ne’er forgot? - - Those lips, which open wide and cry, - Weak as pale flowers or trembling birds, - Are proud, and fixed immutably - Against such words. - - Confession from that burdened soul - No ghostly counsellor may win; - Could such as we receive its whole - Passion and sin? - - In this high presence priest or king, - Prophet or singer of the earth, - With yon cast sea-weed were a thing - Of equal worth. - - - - -IN THE MOUNTAINS - - - Fatigued of heart, and owning how the world - Is strong, too strong for will of mine, my steps - Through the tall pines I led, to reach that spur - Which strikes from off the mountain toward the West. - I hoped to lull a fretted heart to sleep, - And in the place of definite thought a sense - Possessed me, dim and sweet, of Motherhood, - The breasts of Nature, warmth, and soothing hands, - And tender, inarticulate nursing-words - Slow uttered o’er tired eyes. - - But suddenly - Rude waking! Suddenly the rocks, the trees - Stood up in rangèd power, rigid, erect, - And all cried out on me “Away with him! - Away! He is not of us, has no part - In ours or us! Traitor, away with him!” - And the birds shrilled it “Traitor,” and the flowers - Stared up at me with small, hard, insolent eyes. - But I, who had been weak, was weak no more, - Nor shrank at all, but with deliberate step - Moved on, and with both hands waved off the throng, - And feared them not, nor sent defiance back. - Thus, till the pine-glooms fell away, and goats - Went tinkling and no herd-boy near; glad airs - With sunshine in them moved angelical - Upon the solitary heights; the sky - Held not a cloud from marge to marge; and now - Westward the sun was treading, calm and free. - I lay upon the grass, and how an hour - Went past I know not. When again time was, - The sun had fallen, and congregated clouds, - A vision of great glories, held the West, - And through them, and beyond, the hyaline - Led the charm’d spirit through infinite spaces on. - I think of all the men upon this earth - The sight was mine alone; it for my soul, - My soul for it, until all seeing died. - Where did I live transfigured? through what times - Of heaven’s great year? What sudden need of me - For sacrifice on altar, or for priest, - For soldier at the rampart, cup-bearer - At feasts of God, rapt singer in the joy - Of consonant praise, doom’d rebel for the fires? - --I know not, but somewhere some part I held, - Nor fail’d when summoned. - - When the body took - Its guest once more the clouds were massy-grey, - The event was ended; yet a certain thing - Abode with me, which still eludes its name, - Yet lies within my heart like some great word - A mage has taught, and he who heard it once - Cannot pronounce, and never may forget. - But this I dare record,--when all was past, - And once again I turned to seek the vale, - And moved adown the slippery pine-wood path, - In the dimness every pine tree bowed to me - With duteous service, and the rocks lay couched - Like armèd followers round, and one bird sang - The song I chose, and heavy fragrance came - From unseen flowers, and all things were aware - One passed who had been called and consecrate. - - - - -“THE TOP OF A HILL CALLED _CLEAR_” - -(_In sight of the Celestial City_) - - - And all my days led on to this! the days - Of pallid light, of springs no sun would warm, - Of chilling rain autumnal, which decays - High woods while veering south the quick wings swarm, - The days of hot desire, of broken dreaming, - Mechanic toil, poor pride that was but seeming, - And bleeding feet, and sun-smit flowerless ways. - - Below me spreads a sea of tranquil light, - No blue cloud thunder-laden, but pure air - Shot through and through with sunshine; from this height - A man might cast himself in joy’s despair, - And find unhoped, to bear him lest he fall, - Swift succouring wings, and hands angelical, - And circling of soft eyes, and foreheads bright. - - Under me light, and light is o’er my head, - And awful heaven and heaven to left and right; - In all His worlds this spot unvisited - God kept, save by the winging of keen light, - And the dread gaze of stars, and morning’s wan - Virginity, for me a living man, - Living, not borne among the enfranchised dead. - - New life,--not death! No glow the senses cast - Across the spirit, no pleasure shoots o’er me - Its scattering flaw, no words may I hold fast - Here, where God’s breath streams inexhaustibly; - But conquest stern is mine, a will made sane, - Life’s vision wide and calm, a supreme pain, - An absolute joy; and love the first and last. - - - - -THE INITIATION - - - Under the flaming wings of cherubim - I moved toward that high altar. O, the hour! - And the light waxed intenser, and the dim - Low edges of the hills and the grey sea - Were caught and captur’d by the present Power, - My sureties and my witnesses to be. - - Then the light drew me in. Ah, perfect pain! - Ah, infinite moment of accomplishment! - Thou terror of pure joy, with neither wane - Nor waxing, but long silence and sharp air - As womb-forsaking babes breathe. Hush! the event - Let him who wrought Love’s marvellous things declare. - - Shall I who fear’d not joy, fear grief at all? - I on whose mouth Life laid his sudden lips - Tremble at Death’s weak kiss, and not recall - That sundering from the flesh, the flight from time, - The judgments stern, the clear apocalypse, - The lightnings, and the Presences sublime. - - How came I back to earth? I know not how, - Nor what hands led me, nor what words were said. - Now all things are made mine,--joy, sorrow; now - I know my purpose deep, and can refrain; - I walk among the living not the dead; - My sight is purged; I love and pity men. - - - - -RENUNCIANTS - - - Seems not our breathing light? - Sound not our voices free? - Bid to Life’s festal bright - No gladder guests there be. - - Ah, stranger, lay aside - Cold prudence! I divine - The secret you would hide, - And you conjecture mine. - - You too have temperate eyes, - Have put your heart to school, - Are proved. I recognize - A brother of the rule. - - I knew it by your lip, - A something when you smiled, - Which meant “close scholarship, - A master of the guild.” - - Well, and how good is life, - Good to be born, have breath, - The calms good and the strife, - Good life, and perfect death. - - Come, for the dancers wheel, - Join we the pleasant din, - --Comrade, it serves to feel - The sackcloth next the skin. - - - - -SPEAKERS TO GOD - - -_First Speaker_ - - Eastward I went and Westward, North and South, - And the wind blew me from deep zone to zone; - Many strong women did I love; my mouth - I gave for kisses, rose, and straight was gone. - - I fought with heroes; there was joyous play - Of swords; my cities rose in every land; - Then forth I fared. O God, thou knowest, I lay - Ever within the hollow of thy hand. - - -_Second Speaker_ - - I am borne out to thee upon the wave, - And the land lessens; cry nor speech I hear, - Nought but the leaping waters and the brave - Pure winds commingling. O the joy, the fear! - - Alone with thee; sky’s rim and ocean’s rim - Touch, overhead the clear immensity - Is merely God; no eyes of seraphim - Gaze in ... O God, Thou also art the sea! - - -_Third Speaker_ - - Thus it shall be a lifetime,--ne’er to meet; - A trackless land divides us lone and long; - Others, who seek Him, find, run swift to greet - Their Friend, approach the bridegroom’s door with song. - - I stand, nor dare affirm I see or hear; - How should I dream, when strict is my employ? - Yet if some time, far hence, thou drawest near - Shall there be any joy like to our joy? - - - - -POESIA - -(_To a Painter_) - - - Paint her with robe and girdle laid aside, - Without a jewel upon her; you must hide - By sleight of artist from the gazer’s view - No whit of her fair body; calm and true - Her eyes must meet our passion, as aware - The world is beautiful, and she being fair - A part of it. She needs be no more pure - Than a dove is, nor could one well endure - More faultlessness than of a sovran rose, - Reserved, yet liberal to each breeze that blows. - Let her be all revealed, nor therefore less - A mystery of unsearchable loveliness; - There must be no discoveries to be made, - Save as a noonday sky with not a shade - Or floating cloud of Summer to the eye - Which drinks its light admits discovery. - Did common raiment hide her could we know - How hopeless were the rash attempt to throw - Sideways the veil which guards her womanhood? - Therefore her sacred vesture must elude - All mortal touch, and let her welcome well - Each corner, being still unapproachable. - Plant firm on Earth her feet, as though her own - Its harvests were, and, for she would be known - Fearless not fugitive, interpose no bar - ’Twixt us and her, Love’s radiant avatar, - No more to be possessed than sunsets are. - - - - -MUSICIANS - - - I know the harps whereon the Angels play, - While in God’s listening face they gaze intent, - Are these frail hearts,--yours, mine; and gently they, - Leaning a warm breast toward the instrument, - And preluding among the tremulous wires, - First draw forth dreams of song, unfledged desires, - Nameless regrets, sweet hopes which will not stay. - - But when the passionate sense of heavenly things - Possesses the musician, and his lips - Part glowing, and the shadow of his wings - Grows golden, and fire streams from finger-tips, - And he is mighty, and his heart-throbs thicken, - And quick intolerable pulses quicken, - How his hand lords it in among the strings! - - Ah the keen crying of the wires! the pain - Of restless music yearning to out-break - And shed its sweetness utterly, the rain - Of heavenly laughters, threats obscure which shake - The spirit, trampling tumults which dismay, - The fateful pause, the fiat summoning day, - The faultless flower of light which will not wane. - - How wrought with you the awful lord of song? - What thirst of God hath he appeased? What bliss - Raised to clear ecstasy? O tender and strong - The eager melodist who leaned o’er this - Live heart of mine, who leans above it now: - The stern pure eyes! the ample, radiant brow! - Pluck boldly, Master, the good strain prolong. - - - - -MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS - - - - -A DAY OF DEFECTION - - - This day among the days will never stand, - Carven and clear, a shape of fair delight, - With singing lips, and gaze of innocent might, - Crown’d queenwise, or the lyre within her hand, - And firm feet making conquest of a land - Heavy with fruitage; nay, from all men’s sight - Drop far, cold sun, and let remorseful Night - Cloke the shamed forehead, and the bosom’s brand. - Could but the hammer rive, the thunder-stone - Flung forth from heaven on some victorious morn - Grind it to dust! Slave, must I always see - Thy beauty soil’d? Must shining days foregone - Admit thee peer, and wondering new-born - To-morrow meet thy dull eyes’ infamy? - - - - -SONG AND SILENCE - - - While Sorrow sat beside me many a day, - I,--with head turned from her, and yet aware - How her eyes’ light was on my brow and hair, - The light which bites and blights our gold to grey,-- - Still sang, and swift winds bore my songs away - Full of sweet sounds, as of a lute-player - Who sees fresh colours, breathes the ripe soft air, - And hears the cuckoo shout in dells of May, - Being filled with ease and indolent of heart. - So sang I, Sorrow near me: chide me not, - O Joy, for silence now! Hereafter wise, - Large song may come, life blossoming in art, - From this new fate; but leave me, thou long sought, - To gaze awhile into those perfect eyes. - - - - -LOVE-TOKENS - - - I wear around my forehead evermore, - The circlet of your praise, pure gold; and how - I walk forth crown’d, the approving angels know, - And see how I am meeker than before - Being thus proud. For roses my full store, - Upon a cheek where flowers will scantly blow, - Is your lips’ one immortal touch, and lo! - All shame deserts my blood to the heart’s core. - Dare I display love’s choicest gift--this scar - Still sanguine-hued? Here ran your sudden brand - Sheer through the starting flesh, and let abroad - A traitor’s life; your wrathful eyes afar, - Had doom’d him first. Ah, gracious, valiant hand - Which drew me bleeding to the feet of God! - - - - -A DREAM - - - I dreamed I went to seek for her whose sight - Is sunshine to my soul; and in my dream - I found her not; then sank the latest beam - Of day in the rich west; upswam the Night - With sliding dews, and still I searched in vain, - Through thickest glooms of garden-alleys quaint, - On moonlit lawns, by glimmering lakes where faint - The ripples brake and died, and brake again. - Then said I, “At God’s inner court of light - I will beg for her;” straightway toward the same - I went, and lo! upon the altar-stair, - She knelt with face uplifted, and soft hair - Fallen upon shoulders purely gowned in white - And on her parted lips I read my name. - - - - -MICHELANGELESQUE - - - Shaping thy life what if the stubborn stuff - Grudge to inform itself through each dull part - With the soul’s high invention, and thy art - Seem a defeated thing, and earth rebuff - Heaven’s splendour, choosing darkness,--leave the rough - Brute-parts unhewn. Toilest thou for the mart - Or for the temple? Does the God see start - Quick beauty from the block, it is enough. - The spirit, foiled elsewhere, presses to the mouth, - Disparts the lips, lives on the lighted brow, - Fills the wide nostrils, flings the imperious chin - Out proudly. Now behold! the lyric youth, - The wrestler stooping in the act to win, - Pythian Apollo with the vengeful bow. - - - - -LIFE’S GAIN - - - “Now having gained Life’s gain, how hold it fast? - The harder task! because the world is still - The world, and days creep slow, and wear the will, - And Custom, gendering in the heart’s blind waste, - Brings forth a wingèd mist, which with no haste - Upcircling the steep air, and charged with ill, - Blots all our shining heights adorable, - And leaves slain Faith, slain Hope, slain Love the last.” - O shallow lore of life! He who hath won - Life’s gain doth hold nought fast, who could hold all, - Holden himself of strong, immortal Powers. - The stars accept him; for his sake the Sun - Hath sworn in heaven an oath memorial; - Around his feet stoop the obsequious Hours. - - - - -COMPENSATION - - - You shake your head and talk of evil days: - My friend, I learn’d ere I had told twelve years - That truth of yours,--how irrepressible tears - Surprise us, and strength fails, and pride betrays, - And sorrows lurk for us in all the ways - Of joyous living. But now to front my fears - I set a counter-truth which comes and cheers - Our after-life, when, temperate, the heart weighs - Evil with good. Do never smiles surprise - Sad lips? Did the glad violets blow last spring - In no new haunts? Or are the heavens not fair - After drench’d days of June, when all the air - Grows fragrant, and the rival thrushes sing, - Until stars gather into twilight skies? - - - - -TO A CHILD DEAD AS SOON AS BORN - - - A little wrath was on thy forehead, Boy, - Being thus defeated; the resolvèd will - Which death could not subdue, was threatening still - From lip and brow. I know that it was joy - No casual misadventure might destroy - To have lived, and fought and died. Therefore I kill - The pang for thee, unknown; nor count it ill - That thou hast entered swiftly on employ - Where Life would plant a warder keen and pure. - I thought to see a little piteous clay - The grave had need of, pale from light obscure - Of embryo dreams; thy face was as the day - Smit on by storm. Palms for my child, and bay! - Thus far thou hast done well, true son: endure. - - - - -BROTHER DEATH - - - When thou would’st have me go with thee, O Death, - Over the utmost verge, to the dim place, - Practise upon me with no amorous grace - Of fawning lips, and words of delicate breath, - And curious music thy lute uttereth; - Nor think for me there must be sought-out ways - Of cloud and terror; have we many days - Sojourned together, and is this thy faith? - Nay, be there plainness ’twixt us; come to me - Even as thou art, O brother of my soul; - Hold thy hand out and I will place mine there; - I trust thy mouth’s inscrutable irony, - And dare to lay my forehead where the whole - Shadow lies deep of thy purpureal hair. - - - - -THE MAGE - - - When I shall sing my songs the world will hear, - --Which hears not these,--I shall be white with age, - My beard on breast great as befits a mage - So skilled; but song is young, and in no drear - Tome-crammed, lamp-litten chamber shall mine fear - To pine ascetic. Where the woods are deep, - Thick leaves for arras, in a noonday sleep - Of breeze and bloom, gaze, but my art revere! - There I will sit, and score rare wisardry - In characters vermilion, azure, gold, - With bird, starred flower, and peering dragon-fly - Limned in the lines; and secrets shall be told - Of greatest Pan, and lives of wood-nymphs shy, - Blabbed by my goat-foot servitor overbold. - - - - -WISE PASSIVENESS - - - Think you I choose or that or this to sing? - I lie as patient as yon wealthy stream - Dreaming among green fields its summer dream, - Which takes whate’er the gracious hours will bring - Into its quiet bosom; not a thing - Too common, since perhaps you see it there - Who else had never seen it, though as fair - As on the world’s first morn; a fluttering - Of idle butterflies; or the deft seeds - Blown from a thistle-head; a silver dove - As faultlessly; or the large, yearning eyes - Of pale Narcissus; or beside the reeds - A shepherd seeking lilies for his love, - And evermore the all-encircling skies. - - - - -THE SINGER’S PLEA - - - Why do I sing? I know not why, my friend; - The ancient rivers, rivers of renown, - A royal largess to the sea roll down, - And on those liberal highways nations send - Their tributes to the world,--stored corn and wine, - Gold-dust, the wealth of pearls, and orient spar, - And myrrh, and ivory, and cinnabar, - And dyes to make a presence-chamber shine. - But in the woodlands, where the wild-flowers are, - The rivulets, they must have their innocent will - Who all the summer hours are singing still, - The birds care for them, and sometimes a star, - And should a tired child rest beside the stream - Sweet memories would slide into his dream. - - - - -THE TRESPASSER - - - _Trespassers will be prosecuted_,--so - Announced the inhospitable notice-board; - But silver-clear as any lady’s word - _Come in, in, in, come in_, now rich and low, - Now with tumultuous palpitating flow, - I swear by ring of Canace I heard. - “Sure,” said I, “this is no brown-breasted bird, - But some fair princess, lost an age ago - Through stepdame’s cursed spell, till the saints brought her - Who but myself, the knight foredoomed of grace.” - Alas! poor knight, in all that cockney place - You found no magic, save one radiant sight, - The huge, obstreperous house-keeper’s granddaughter, - A child with eyes of pure ethereal light. - - - - -RITUALISM - - - This is high ritual and a holy day; - I think from Palestrina the wind chooses - That movement in the firs; one sits and muses - In hushed heart-vacancy made meek to pray; - Listen! the birds are choristers with gay - Clear voices infantine, and with good will - Each acolyte flower has swung his thurible, - Censing to left and right these aisles of May. - For congregation, see! real sheep most clean, - And I--what am I, worshipper or priest? - At least all these I dare absolve from sin, - Ay, dare ascend to where the splendours shine - Of yon steep mountain-altar, and the feast - Is holy, God Himself being bread and wine. - - - - -PROMETHEUS UNBOUND - - - I, who lie warming here by your good fire, - Was once Prometheus and elsewhere have lain; - Ah, still in dreams they come,--the sudden chain, - The swooping birds, the silence, the desire - Of pitying, powerless eyes, the night, and higher - The keen stars; (if you please I fill again - The bowl, Silenus)--; yet ’twas common pain - Their beaks’ mad rooting; O, but they would tire, - And one go circling o’er the misty vast - On great, free wings, and one sit, head out-bent, - Poised for the plunge; then ’twas I crushed the cry - “Zeus, Zeus, I kiss your feet, and learn at last - The baseness of this crude self-government - Matched with glad impulse and blind liberty.” - - - - -KING MOB - - - Dismiss, O sweet King Mob, your foot-lickers! - When you held court last night I too was there - To listen, and in truth well nigh despair - O’ercame me when I saw your greedy ears - Drink such gross poison. I could weep hot tears - To think how three drugged words avail to keep - A waking people still on the edge of sleep, - And lose the world a right good score of years. - I love you too, big Anarch, lately born, - Half beast, yet with a stupid heart of man, - And since I love, would God that I could warn - Work out the beast as shortly as you can, - Till which time oath of mine shall ne’er be sworn, - Nor knee be bent to you, King Caliban. - - - - -THE MODERN ELIJAH - - - What went ye forth to see? a shaken reed?-- - Ye throngers of the Parthenon last night. - Prophet, yea more than prophet, we agreed; - No John a’ Desert with the girdle tight, - And locusts and wild honey for his need, - Before the dreadful day appears in sight - Urging one word to make the conscience bleed, - But an obese John Smith, “a shining light” - (Our chairman felt), “an honour to his creed.” - O by the gas, when buns and tea had wrought - Upon our hearts, how grew the Future bright,-- - The Press, the Institutes, Advance of Thought, - And People’s Books, till every mother’s son - Can prove there is a God, or there is none. - - - - -DAVID AND MICHAL - -(2 SAMUEL vi. 16) - - - _But then you don’t mean really what you say_-- - To hear this from the sweetest little lips, - O’er which each pretty word daintily trips - Like small birds hopping down a garden way, - When I had given my soul full scope to play - For once before her in the Orphic style - Caught from three several volumes of Carlyle, - And undivulged before this very day! - O young men of our earnest school confess - How it is deeply, darkly tragical - To find the feminine souls we would adore - So full of sense, so versed in worldly lore, - So deaf to the Eternal Silences, - So unbelieving, so conventional. - - - - -WINDLE-STRAWS - - -I - - Under grey clouds some birds will dare to sing, - No wild exultant chants, but soft and low; - Under grey clouds the young leaves seek the spring, - And lurking violets blow. - - And waves make idle music on the strand, - And inland streams have lucky words to say, - And children’s voices sound across the land - Although the clouds be grey. - - -II - - Only maidenhood and youth, - Only eyes that are most fair, - And the pureness of a mouth, - And the grace of golden hair, - Yet beside her we grow wise, - And we breathe a finer air. - - Words low-utter’d, simple-sweet,-- - Yet, nor songs of morning birds, - Nor soft whisperings of the wheat - More than such clear-hearted words - Make us wait, and love, and listen, - Stir more mellow heart accords. - - Only maiden-motions light, - Only smiles that sweetly go, - Girlish laughter pure and bright, - And a footfall like the snow, - What in these should make us wise? - What should bid the blossom blow? - - Child! on thee God’s angels wait, - ’Tis their robes that wave and part, - Make this summer air elate, - Fresh and fragrant, and thou art - But a simple child indeed, - One dare cherish to the heart. - - -III - - Were life to last for ever, love, - We might go hand in hand, - And pause and pull the flowers that blow - In all the idle land, - And we might lie in sunny fields - And while the hours away - With fallings-out and fallings-in - For half a summer day. - - But since we two must sever, love, - Since some dim hour we part, - I have no time to give thee much - But quickly take my heart, - “For ever thine,” and “thine my love,”-- - O Death may come apace, - What more of love could life bestow, - Dearest, than this embrace. - - -IV - - Now drops in the abyss a day of life: - I count my twelve hours’ gain;-- - Tired senses? vain desires? a baffled strife, - Vexed heart and beating brain? - - Ten pages traversed by a languid eye? - --Nay, but one moment’s space - I gazed into the soul of the blue sky; - Rare day! O day of grace! - - -V - - She kissed me on the forehead, - She spoke not any word, - The silence flowed between us, - And I nor spoke nor stirred. - - So hopeless for my sake it was, - So full of ruth, so sweet, - My whole heart rose and blessed her, - --Then died before her feet. - - -VI - - Nay, more! yet more, for my lips are fain; - No cups for a babe; I ask the whole - Deep draught that a God could hardly drain, - --Wine of your soul. - - Pour! for the goblet is great I bring, - Not worthless, rough with youths at strife, - And men that toil and women that sing, - --It is all my life. - - -VII - - Look forward with those steadfast eyes - O Pilot of our star! - It sweeps through rains and driving snows, - Strong Angel, gaze afar! - - Seest thou a zone of golden air? - Hearest thou the March-winds ring? - Or is thy heart prophetic yet - With stirrings of the Spring? - - -VIII - - Words for my song like sighing of dim seas, - Words with no thought in them,--a piping reed, - An infant’s cry, a moan low-uttered,--these - Are all the words I need. - - Others have song for broad-winged winds that pass, - For stars and sun, for standing men around; - I put my mouth low down into the grass, - And whisper to the ground. - - - HERE END THE POEMS - WHICH WERE FIRST - PUBLISHED IN - A VOLUME - IN 1876 - - - - - MISCELLANEOUS - POEMS OF LATER DATES - - - - -AT THE OAR - - - I dare not lift a glance to you, yet stay - Ye Gracious Ones, still save me, hovering near; - If music live upon mine inward ear, - I know ye lean bright brow to brow, and say - Your secret things; if rippling breezes play - Cool on my cheeks, it is those robes ye wear - That wave, and shadowy fragrance of your hair - Drifted, the fierce noon fervour to allay, - Fierce fervour, ceaseless stroke, small speed, and I - Find grim contentment in the servile mood; - But should I gaze in yon untrammelled sky - Once, or behold your dewy eyes, my blood - Would madden, and I should fling with one free cry - My body headlong in the whelming flood. - - - - -THE DIVINING ROD - - - Here some time flowed my springs and sent a cry - Of joy before them up the shining air, - While morn was new, and heaven all blue and bare; - Here dipped the swallow to a tenderer sky, - And o’er my flowers lean’d some pure mystery - Of liquid eyes and golden-glimmering hair; - For which now, drouth and death, a bright despair, - Shards, choking slag, the world’s dust small and dry. - Yet turn not hence thy faithful foot, O thou, - Diviner of my buried life; pace round, - Poising the hazel-wand; believe and wait, - Listen and lean; ah, listen! even now - Stirrings and murmurings of the underground - Prelude the flash and outbreak of my fate. - - - - -SALOME - -(_By Henri Regnault_) - - - Fair sword of doom, and bright with martyr blood, - Thee Regnault saw not as mine eyes have seen; - No Judith of the Faubourg, mænad-queen, - Pale on her tumbril-throne, when the live flood - Foams through revolted Paris, unwithstood, - Is of thy kin. Blossom and bud between, - Clear-brow’d Salome, with her silk head’s sheen, - Lips where a linnet might have pecked for food, - Pure curves of neck, and dimpling hand aloft, - Moved like a wave at sunrise. Herod said-- - “A boon for maiden freshness! Ask of me - What toy may please, though half my Galilee;” - And with beseeching eyes, and bird-speech soft, - She fluted: “Give me here John Baptist’s head.” - - - - -WATERSHED - - - Now on life’s crest we breathe the temperate air; - Turn either way; the parted paths o’erlook; - Dear, we shall never bid the Sphinx despair, - Nor read in Sibyl’s book. - - The blue bends o’er us; good are Night and Day; - Some blissful influence from the starry Seven - Thrilled us ere youth took wing; wherefore essay - The vain assault on heaven? - - And what great Word Life’s singing lips pronounce, - And what intends the sealing kiss of Death, - It skills us not; yet we accept, renounce, - And draw this tranquil breath. - - Enough, one thing we know, haply anon - All truths; yet no truths better or more clear - Than that your hand holds my hand; wherefore on! - The downward pathway, Dear! - - - - -THE GUEST - - - Rude is the dwelling, low the door, - No chamber this where men may feast, - I strew clean rushes on the floor, - Set wide my window to the East. - - I can but set my little room - In order, then gaze forth and wait; - I know not if the Guest will come, - Who holds aloft his starry state. - - - - -MORITURUS - - - Lord, when my hour to part is come, - And all the powers of being sink, - When eyes are filmed, and lips are dumb, - And scarce I hang upon the brink. - - Grant me but this--in that strange light - Or blind amid confused alarms, - One moment’s strength to stand upright - And cast myself into Thy arms. - - - - -ALONE - - - This is the shore of God’s lone love, which stirs - And heaves to some majestic tidal law; - And bright the illimitable horizons’ awe; - God’s love; yet all my soul cries out for hers. - - - - -FAME - - - My arches crumble; that bright dome I flung - Heavenward in pride decays; yet all unmoved - One column soars, and, graven in sacred tongue, - Endure the victor words--“This man was loved.” - - - - -WHERE WERT THOU? - - - Where wert Thou, Master, ’mid that rain of tears, - When grey the waste before me stretched and wide, - And when with boundless silence ached mine ears? - “Child, I was at thy side.” - - Where wert Thou when I trod the obscure wood, - And one lone cry of sorrow was the wind, - And drop by heavy drop failed my heart’s blood? - “Before thee and behind.” - - Where wert Thou when I fell and lay alone - Faithless and hopeless, yet through one dear smart - Not loveless quite, making my empty moan? - “Son, I was in thy heart.” - - - - -A WISH - - - Could I roll off two heavy years - That lie on me like lead; - And see you past their cloudy tears, - Nor dream that you are dead. - - I would not touch your lips, your hair, - Your breast, that once were mine; - Ah! not for me in Faith’s despair - Love’s sacramental wine. - - Find you I must for only this - In some new earth or heaven, - To bare my sorry heart, and kiss - Your feet and be forgiven. - - - - -THE GIFT - - - “Now I draw near: alone, apart - I stood, nor deemed I should require - Such access, till my musing heart - Suddenly kindled to desire. - - No farther from Thee than Thy feet! - No less a sight than all Thy face! - Nay, touch me where the heart doth beat, - Breathe where the throbbing brain hath place. - - Yield me the best, the unnamed good, - The gift which most shall prove me near, - Thy wine for drink, Thy fruit for food, - Thy tokens of the nail, the spear!” - - Such cry was mine: I lifted up - My face from treacherous speech to cease, - Daring to take the bitter cup, - But ah! Thy perfect gift was peace. - - Quiet deliverance from all need, - A little space of boundless rest, - To live within the Light indeed - To lean upon the Master’s breast. - - - - -RECOVERY - - - I joy to know I shall rejoice again - Borne upward on the good tide of the world, - Shall mark the cowslip tossed, the fern uncurled - And hear the enraptured lark high o’er my pain, - And o’er green graves; and I shall love the wane - Of sea-charm’d sunsets with all winds upfurl’d, - And that great gale adown whose stream are whirl’d, - Pale autumn dreams, dead hopes, and broodings vain. - Nor do I fear that I shall faintlier bless - The joy of youth and maid, or the gold hair - Of a wild-hearted child; then, none the less, - Instant within my shrine, no man aware, - Feed on a living sorrow’s sacredness, - And lean my forehead on this altar-stair. - - - - -IF IT MIGHT BE - - - If it might be, I would not have my leaves - Drop in autumnal stillness one by one, - Like these pale fluttering waifs that heap sad sheaves - Through mere inertia trembling, tottering down. - - Better one roaring day, one wrestling night, - The dark musician’s fiercer harmony, - And then abandoned bareness, or the light - Of strange discovered skies, if it might be. - - - - -WINTER NOONTIDE - - - I go forth now, but not to fill my lap - With violets and white sorrel of the wood; - This is a winter noon; and I may hap - Upon a few dry sticks, and fire is good. - - A quickening shrewdness edges the fore wind; - Some things stand clear in this dismantled hour - Which deep-leaved June had hidden; earth is kind, - The heaven is wide, and fire shall be my flower. - - - - -THE POOL - - - A wood obscure in this man’s haunt of love, - And midmost in the wood where leaves fall sere, - A pool unplumbed; no winds these waters move, - Gathered as in a vase from year to year. - - And he has thought that he himself lies drowned, - Wan-faced where the pale water glimmereth, - And that the voiceless man who paces round - The brink, nor sheds a tear now, is his wraith. - - - - -THE DESIRE TO GIVE - - - They who would comfort guess not the main grief-- - Not that her hand is never on my hair, - Her lips upon my brow; the time is brief - At longest, and I grow inured to bear. - - All that was ever mine I have and hold; - But that I cannot give by day or night - My poor gift which was dear to her of old, - And poorly given--that loss is infinite. - - - - -A BEECH-TREE IN WINTER - - - Now in the frozen gloom I trace thy girth, - Broad beech, that with lit leaves upon a day - When heaven was wide and down the meadow May - Moved bride-like, touched my forehead in sweet mirth, - And blissful secrets told of the deep Earth, - Low in mine ear; wherefore this eve I lay - My hand thus close till stirrings faint bewray - Thy piteous secrets of the days of dearth, - Silence! yet to my heart from thine has passed - Divine contentment; it is well with thee; - Still let the stars slide o’er thee whispering fate, - The might be in thee of the shouldering blast, - Still let fire-fingered snow thy tiremaid be, - Still bearing springtime in thy bosom wait. - - - - -JUDGMENT - - - I stand for judgment; vain the will - To judge myself, O Lord! - I cannot sunder good from ill - With a dividing sword. - - How should I know myself aright, - Who would by Thee be known? - Let me stand naked in Thy sight; - Thy doom shall be my own. - - Slay in me that which would be slain! - Thy justice be my grace! - If aught survive the joy, the pain, - Still must it seek Thy face. - - - - -DÜRER’S “MELENCHOLIA” - - - The bow of promise, this lost flaring star, - Terror and hope are in mid-heaven; but She, - The mighty-wing’d crown’d Lady Melancholy, - Heeds not. O to what vision’d goal afar - Does her thought bear those steadfast eyes which are - A torch in darkness? There nor shore nor sea, - Nor ebbing Time vexes Eternity, - Where that lone thought outsoars the mortal bar. - Tools of the brain--the globe, the cube--no more - She deals with; in her hand the compass stays; - Nor those, industrious genius, of her lore - Student and scribe, thou gravest of the fays, - Expect this secret to enlarge thy store; - She moves through incommunicable ways. - - - - -MILLET’S “THE SOWER” - - - Son of the Earth, brave flinger of the seed, - Strider of furrows, copesmate of the morn, - Which, stirr’d with quickenings now of day unborn, - Approves the mystery of thy fruitful deed; - Thou, young in hope and old as man’s first need, - Through all the hours that laugh, the hours that mourn, - Hold’st to one strenuous faith, by time unworn, - Sure of the miracle--that the clod will breed. - Dark is this upland, pallid still the sky, - And man, rude bondslave of the glebe, goes forth - To labour; serf, yet genius of the soil, - Great his abettors--a confederacy - Of mightiest Powers, old laws of heaven and earth, - Foresight and Faith, and ever-during Toil. - - - - -AT MULLION (CORNWALL) - -_Sunday_ - - - Where the blue dome is infinite, - And choral voices of the sea - Chaunt the high lauds, or meek, as now, - Intone their ancient litany; - - Where through his ritual pomp still moves - The Sun in robe pontifical, - Whose only creed is catholic light, - Whose benediction is for all; - - I enter with glad face uplift, - Asperged on brow and brain and heart; - I am confessed, absolved, illumed, - Receive my blessing and depart. - - - - -THE WINNOWER TO THE WINDS - -(_From Joachim de Bellay_) - - - To yon light troop, who fly - On wing that hurries by - The wide world over, - And with soft sibilance - Bid every shadow dance - Of the glad cover. - - These violets I consign - Lilies and sops-in-wine - Roses, all yours, - These roses vermeil-tinctured - Their graces new-uncinctured - And gilly-flowers. - - So with your gentle breath - Blow on the plain beneath - Through my grange blow, - What time I swink and strain, - Winnowing my golden grain - In noontide’s glow. - - - - -EMERSON - - - Memnon the Yankee! bare to every star, - But silent till one vibrant shaft of light - Strikes; then a voice thrilling, oracular, - And clear harmonies through the infinite. - - - - -SENT TO AN AMERICAN SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY - - - ’Twixt us through gleam and gloom in glorious play - League-long the leonine billows ramp and roll, - The same maturing sun illumes our day, - Ripens our blood--the sun of Shakespeare’s soul. - - - - -NOCTURNE - - - Ere sleep upheaves me on one glassy billow - To drift me down the deep, - I lie with easeful head upon my pillow, - Letting the minutes creep. - - Until Time’s pulse is stayed and all earth’s riot - Fades in a limit white, - While over me curve fragrant wings of quiet - Tender and great as Night. - - Then I gaze up. Divine, descending slumber - Thine access yet forbear, - Though vow I proffer none, nor blessings number, - Nor breathe a wordless prayer. - - A Presence is within me and above me, - That takes me for its own, - A Motherhood, a bosom prompt to love me, - I know it and am known. - - So softly I roll back the Spirit’s portals; - O be the entrance wide! - Silence and light from home of my Immortals - Flow in, a tranquil tide. - - Calming, assuaging, cleansing, freshening, freeing, - It floods each inlet deep; - Now pass thou wave of Light, ebb thought and being! - Come thou dark wave of sleep! - - - - -THE WHIRLIGIG - - - Glee at the cottage-doors to-day! - Small hearts with joy are big; - The merchant chanced to come our way - Who vends the whirligig. - - You know the marvel-stick of deal, - And, where the top should taper, - Pinned lightly, the ecstatic wheel, - Flaunting its purple paper. - - Raptures a halfpenny each; and see - The liberal-bosomed mother - Faltering; they tug her skirts the three, - (Ah, soon will come another!) - - Away they start! Swift, swifter fly - The buzzing, whirring chips, - O eyes grown great! O gleesome cry - From daubed, cherubic lips! - - I as companion of my walk - Had chosen a soul heroic - (So much I love superior talk) - An Emperor and a Stoic. - - The cowslip tossed; upsoared the lark; - Our choice was to recline us - Against an elm-bole, I and Mark - Aurelius Antoninus. - - Pale victory lightened on his brow, - Grieved conquest wrung from pain; - Of Nature’s course he spake, and how - Man should sustain, abstain. - - Physician of the soul, he spake - Of simples that allay - The blood, and how the nerves that ache - Freeze under ethic spray. - - I turned; perhaps his touch of pride - Moved me, a garb he wore; - I saw those children eager-eyed, - And Rome’s pale Emperor. - - “You miss,” I said, “born Nature’s rule, - Her statutes unrepealed, - You would remove us from the school, - And from the playing-field. - - And if our griefs be vain, our joys - Vainer, all’s in the plan; - For what are we but gamesome boys? - Through these we grow to man. - - I to my hornbook now give heed, - Now hear my playmates call, - Will ‘chase the rolling circles speed, - And urge the flying ball.’ - - Joys, pains, hopes, fears,--a mingled heap, - Grant me, nor Prince nor prig! - I want, sad Emperor, rosy sleep, - Leave me my whirligig.” - - In haste I spoke; such gusty talk - Oft wrongs these lips of mine; - Under grey clouds some day I’ll walk - Again with Antonine. - - - - -PARADISE LOST AND FOUND - - - Eve, to tell truth, was not deceived; - The snake’s word seemed to tally - With something she herself conceived, - Sick of her happy valley. - - The place amused her for a bit, - (Some think ’twas half a day) - Then came, alas! a desperate fit - Of neurasthenia. - - She tired of lions bland and grand, - She tired of thornless roses, - She felt she could no longer stand - Her Adam’s courtly glozes. - - His “graceful consort,” “spouse adored,” - His amorous-pious lectures; - She found herself supremely bored, - If one may risk conjectures. - - “Would he but scold for once!” sighed she, - “_De haut en bas_ caressings, - Qualified by astronomy, - Prove scarce unmingled blessings.” - - She strolled; fine gentlemen in wings - Would deftly light and stop her; - She looked demure; half-missed her “things,” - Half feared ’twas not quite proper. - - They asked for Adam, always him, - Each affable Archangel, - Nor heeded charms of neck or limb, - Big with their stale evangel. - - They dined; her cookery instinct stirred; - A dinner grew a dream, - Not berries cold, eternal curd, - And everlasting cream. - - Boon fruit was hers, but tame in sooth; - One thought her soul would grapple-- - To get her little ivory tooth - Deep in some wicked apple. - - So, when that sinuous cavalier - Spired near the tree of evil, - The woman hasted to draw near; - Such luck!--the genuine devil! - - And Satan, who to man had lied, - Man ever prone to palter, - The franker course with woman tried, - Assured she would not falter. - - He spoke of freedom and its pains, - Of passion and its sorrow, - Of sacrifice, and nobler gains - Wrung from a dark to-morrow. - - He did not shirk the names of death, - Worn heart, a night of tears-- - If here the woman caught her breath, - She dared to face her fears. - - Perhaps he touched on pretty needs, - Named frill, flounce, furbelow, - Perhaps referred to sable weeds, - And dignity in woe. - - Glowed like two rose-leaves both ear-lobes, - White grew her lips and set, - The sly snake picturing small white robes, - A roseate bassinet. - - He smiled; then squarely told the curse, - Birth-pang, a lord and master; - She hung her head--“It might be worse, - It seems no huge disaster.” - - She mused--“A sin’s a sin at most; - Life’s joy outweighs my sentence; - What of my man, who now can boast - A virtue so portentous? - - Best for him too! Sweat, workman’s groan - And death which makes us even; - I want a sinner of my own, - Who finds my breast his heaven.” - - Our General Mother, which is true - This tale, or that old story, - Tradition’s _fable convenue_ - Fashioned for Jahveh’s glory? - - - - -AFTER METASTASIO - - - If seeking me she ask “What hap - Befel him? Whither is he fled, - My friend, my poor unhappy friend?” - Then softly answer “He is dead.” - - Yet no! May never pang so keen - Be hers, and I the giver! Say, - If word be spoken, this alone, - “Weeping for you he went his way.” - - - - -THE CORN-CRAKE - - -I - - Here let the bliss of summer and her night - Be on my heart as wide and pure as heaven; - Now while o’er earth the tide of young delight - Brims to the full, calm’d by the wizard Seven, - And their high mistress, yon enchanted Moon; - The air is faint, yet fresh as primrose buds, - And dim with weft of honey-colour’d beams, - A bride-robe for the new espousèd June, - Who lies white-limbed among her flowers, nor dreams, - Such a divine content her being floods. - - -II - - Awake, awake! The silence hath a voice; - Not thine, thou heart of fire, palpitating - Until all griefs change countenance and rejoice, - And all joys ache o’er-ripe since thou dost sing, - Not thine this voice of the dry meadow-lands, - Harsh iteration! note untuneable! - Which shears the breathing quiet with a blade - Of ragged edge! Say, wilt thou ne’er be still - Crier in June’s high progress, whose commands - Upon no heedless drowzed heart are laid? - - -III - - Nay, cease not till thy breast disquieted - Hath won a term of ease; the dewy grass - Trackless at morn betrays not thy swift tread, - And through smooth-closing air thy call-notes pass, - To faint on yon soft-bosom’d pastoral steep - Thee bird the Night accepts; and I, through thee, - Reach to embalmèd hearts of summers dead, - Feel round my feet old, inland meadows deep, - And bow o’er flowers that not a leaf have shed, - Nor once have heard moan of an alien sea. - - -IV - - Even while I muse thy halting-place doth shift, - Now nearer, now more distant--I have seen - When April, through her shining hair adrift, - Gleams a farewell, and elms are fledged with green, - The voiceful, wandering envoy of the Spring; - Thee, never; though the mower’s scythe hath dashed - Thy nest aside, but thou hast sped askant, - Viewless; then last we lose thee, and thy wing - Brushes Nilotic maize and thou dost chaunt - Haply all night to stony ears of Pasht. - - -V - - Ah, now an end to thy inveterate tale! - The silence melts from the mid spheres of heaven; - Enough! before this peace has time to fail - From out my soul, or yon white cloud has driven - Up the moon’s path I turn, and I will rest - Once more with summer in my heart. Farewell! - Shut are the wild-rose cups; no moth’s awhirr; - My room will be moon-silvered from the west - For one more hour; thy note shall be a burr - To tease out thought and catch the slumbrous spell. - - - - -IN THE CATHEDRAL - - - The altar-lights burn low, the incense-fume - Sickens: O listen, how the priestly prayer - Runs as a fenland stream; a dim despair - Hails through their chaunt of praise, who here inhume - A clay-cold Faith within its carven tomb. - But come thou forth into the vital air - Keen, dark, and pure! grave Night is no betrayer, - And if perchance some faint cold star illume - Her brow of mystery, shall we walk forlorn? - An altar of the natural rock may rise - Somewhere for men who seek; there may be borne - On the night-wind authentic prophecies: - If not, let this--to breathe sane breath--suffice, - Till in yon East, mayhap, the dark be worn. - - - - -EDGAR ALLAN POE - -(_Read at the Centenary Celebration, University of Virginia, 19th Jan. -1909_) - - - Seeker for Eldorado, magic land, - Whose gold is beauty fine-spun, amber-clear, - O’er what Moon-mountains, down what Valley of fear - By what love waters fringed with pallid sand, - Did thy foot falter? Say what airs have fanned - Thy fervid brow, blown from no terrene sphere, - What rustling wings, what echoes thrilled thine ear - From mighty tombs whose brazen ports expand? - Seeker, who never quite attained, yet caught, - Moulded and fashioned, as by strictest law - The rainbow’d moon-mist and the flying gleam - To mortal loveliness, for pity and awe, - To us what carven dreams thy hand has brought - Dreams with the serried logic of a dream. - - - - -DEUS ABSCONDITUS - - - Since Thou dost clothe Thyself to-day in cloud, - Lord God in heaven, and no voice low or loud - Proclaims Thee,--see, I turn me to the Earth, - Its wisdom and its sorrow and its mirth, - Thy Earth perchance, but sure my very own, - And precious to me grows the clod, the stone, - A voiceless moor’s brooding monotony, - A keen star quivering through the sunset dye, - Young wrinkled beech leaves, saturate with light, - The arching wave’s suspended malachite; - I turn to men, Thy sons perchance, but sure - My brethren, and no face shall be too poor - To yield me some unquestionable gain - Of wonder, laughter, loathing, pity, pain, - Some dog-like craving caught in human eyes, - Some new-waked spirit’s April ecstasies; - These will not fail nor foil me; while I live - There will be actual truck in take and give, - But Thou hast foiled me; therefore undistraught, - I cease from seeking what will not be sought, - Or sought, will not be found through joy or fear, - If still Thou claimst me, seek me. I am here. - - - - -SUBLIMINAL - - - Door, little door, - Shadowed door in the innermost room of my heart, - I lean and listen, withdrawn from the stir and apart, - For a word of the wordless love. - - And still you hide, - Yourself of me, who are more than myself, within, - And I wait if perchance a whisper I may win - From my soul on the other side. - - What do I catch - Afloat on the air, for something is said or done? - Are there two who speak--my soul and the nameless One? - Little door, could I lift the latch. - - Sigh for some want - Measureless sigh of desire, or a speechless prayer? - Rustle of robe of a priest at sacrifice there - Benediction or far-heard chaunt? - - Could we but meet, - Myself and my hidden self in a still amaze! - But the tramp of men comes up, and the roll of drays, - And a woman’s cry from the street! - - - - -LOUISA SHORE - -(_Author of “Hannibal, a Drama”_) - - - Who dared to pluck the sleeve of Hannibal, - And hale him from the shades? Who bade the man, - Indomitable of brain, return to plan - A vast revenge and vowed? Wild clarions call; - Dusk faces flame; the turreted brute-wall - Moves, tramples, overwhelms; van clashes van; - Roman, Numidian, Carthaginian; - And griefs are here, unbowed, imperial. - Who caught the world’s fierce tides? An English girl. - Shy dreamer ’neath fledged elm and apple-bloom, - With Livy or Polybius on her knee, - Whose dreams were light as dew and pure as pearl,-- - Yet poignant-witted; thew’d for thought; girl-groom - Sped to her Lord across the Midland Sea. - - - - -FLOWERS FROM THE SOUTH OF FRANCE - - - Thanks spoken under rainy skies, - And tossed by March winds of the North, - And faint ere they can find your eyes, - Pale thanks are mine and poor in worth, - - Matched with your gift of dews and light, - Quick heart-beats of the Southern spring, - Provençal flowers, pearl-pure, blood-bright, - Which heard the Mid-sea murmuring. - - Listen! a lark in Irish air, - A silver spray of ecstasy! - O wind of March blow wide and bear - This song of home as thanks for me. - - Nay, but yourself find thanks more meet; - Blossoms like these which drank the sky - Strew in some shadowy alcove-seat, - And lay your violin where they lie; - - Leave them; but with the first star rise, - And bring the bow, and poise at rest - The enchanted wood. Ah, shrill sweet cries! - A prisoned heart is in its breast. - - - - -TO HESTER - -(_At the Piano_) - - - So ends your fingers’ fine intrigue! - The netted guile! Nor yonder sat he - In pump and frill who made the gigue, - Your Neapolitan Scarlatti. - - The twilight yields you to me; strange! - My dainty sprite, a most rare vision! - Well, is it not a wise exchange, - Live maid for ghost of dead musician? - - Yet gently let the shadows troop - To darkness; lightly lie the dust on - Damon and Chloe, hose and hoop, - My bevy of the days Augustan. - - What led my fancy down the track, - Through century-silent, shadowy mazes? - Perhaps that foolish bric-à-brac - Your pseudo-classic shelf that graces. - - Or haply something I divined, - While on your face I stayed a dweller, - Of that fair ancestress--unsigned-- - It pleases you to name a Kneller; - - And still your fingers ran the keys, - Through quaint encounter, pretty wrangle - Light laughter, interspace of ease, - Fine turn, and softly-severed tangle, - - Gigue, minuet, rondo, ritornelle-- - Quaint jars with rose-leaf memories scented, - Stored with glad sound, when life went well, - Ere melancholy was invented, - - When pleasure ran, a rippling tide, - And Phillida with Phyllis carolled, - Ere Werther yet for Lotte sighed, - Or English maids adored Childe Harold; - - Ere music shook the central heart, - Or soared to spheral heights inhuman, - Ere Titans stormed the heaven of art, - Let by the hammer-welder, Schumann. - - Ah, well, we sigh beneath the load, - We sing our pain, our pride, our passion, - And Weltschmerz is the modern mode, - But sweet seventeen is still a fashion. - - Let be a while the Infinite, - Those chords with tremulous fervour laden, - Where Chopin’s fire and dew unite-- - I choose instead one mortal maiden. - - Let sorrow rave, and sadness fret, - And all our century’s ailments pester, - I am not quite despairful yet-- - There, at the keyboard, sits a Hester. - - - - -UNUTTERED - - - Song that is pent in me, - Song that is aching, - Ne’er to escape from me, - Sleeping or waking, - - Down aspic! the dust of me, - Blown the world over - A century hence - Will envenom a lover. - - His red lips grow vocal, - His great word is new, - And the world knows my secret, - Is dreaming of you. - - - - -IMITATED FROM J. SOULARY’S “LE FOSSOYEUR” - - - For every child new-born God brings to birth - A little grave-digger, deft at his trade, - Who ’neath his master’s feet still voids the earth, - There where one day the man’s dark plunge is made. - - Do you know yours? Hideous perhaps is he, - You shudder seeing the workman at his task; - Such gracious looks commend who waits on me - I yield whole-hearted, nor for quarter ask. - - A child rose-white, sweet-lipped, my steps he presses - On to the pit with coaxings and caresses, - Lovelier assassin none could choose to have. - Rogue, hast thou done? Let’s haste. The hour comes quick, - Give with a kiss the last stroke of the pick, - And gently lay me in my flowery grave. - - - - -IMITATED FROM GOETHE’S “GANYMEDE” - - - As with splendour of morning - Around me thou flamest, - O Spring time, my lover, - With a thousand delights and desires; - To my heart comes thronging - The sacred sense - Of thy glow everlasting, - O infinite beauty! - - Would I might seize thee - In these my arms! - - Ah! on thy bosom - I lie sore yearning; - Thy flowers, thy grasses, - Press close to my heart; - Fresh breeze of the morn - Thy coolest the burning - Thirst of my breast. - With love the nightingale - Calls to me from the misty valley! - - I come, I am coming! - Whither? Ah, whither? - Upward! Upward the urge is! - Lower the clouds come drifting, - They stoop to the longing of love. - For me! for me! - Borne in the lap of you - Upwards! - Embracing, embraced! - Upwards, even to the bosom - Of thee all-loving, my Father! - - - - -WITH A COPY OF MY “POEMS” - - - My slender, wondering Nautilus, - Sunk in the ooze--a thing how frail!-- - Because you choose to have it thus - Through wavering waters luminous - Rises once more, sets up the sail; - - It trembles to the sun, has fear - Of life, that knew no fear of death: - Ah! may kind Ariel, hovering near, - Speed the toy onward with his breath! - - - - -PROLOGUE TO MAURICE GEROTHWOHL’S VERSION OF VIGNY’S “CHATTERTON” - -(_March 1909_) - - - Not yet to life inured, the Muse’s son, - Born to be lord of visions, Chatterton, - A youth, nor yet the master of his dream, - Poor, proud, o’erwrought, perplex’d in the extreme - By poetry, his demon, and by love-- - Powers of the deep below, the height above-- - Ringed by a world with dreams and love at strife, - Rejects in fiery spleen the gift of life. - - Condemn, but pity! - In the South, they say, - Boys in their sportive mood affect a play; - The brands aglow they fashion in a ring, - Then in the ardent cirque a scorpion fling; - Crouched motionless the creature lies, until - Urged by the fire you see him throb and thrill, - Whereon the laughter peals! Anon, he’ll shape - Right on the flames his course to make escape, - And backward draws o’erpowered. Fresh shouts of glee! - Next round the circle curving timorously - He seeks impossible exit; now, once more, - Quailing, and in the centre as before, - He shrinks despairing; lest, he knows his part, - Turns on himself, grown bold, his poisoned dart, - And on the instant dies. O then at height - We hear the cries uproarious of delight! - Doubtless the wretch on mortal crime was bent, - Doubtless the boys were good and innocent. - - Play not, O world of men, the savage boy, - Make not the poet, quickener of earth’s joy, - Your scorpion! Hardly once a hundred years - Compact of spirit and fire and dew, appears - He through whose song the spheral harmonies - Vibrate in mortal hearing. Nay, be wise, - For your own joy, and see he lacks not bread, - If ye but wreathe the white brows of the dead, - ’Tis ye yourselves are disinherited. - - - - -A SONG - - - When did such moons upheave? - When were such pure dawns born? - Yet fly morn into eve, - Fly eve into morn. - - Lily and iris blooms, - Blooms of the orchard close, - Pass--for she comes, she comes, - Your sovereign, the rose. - - Lark, that is heart of the height, - Thrush, that is voice of the vale, - Cease, it is nearing, the night - Of the nightingale. - - Hasten great noon that glows, - Night, when the swift stars pale, - Hasten noon of the rose, - Night of the nightingale. - - - - -THE DROPS OF NECTAR. 1789 - -_Imitated from_ GOETHE’S “DIE NEKTARTROPFEN” - - - When Minerva, granting graces - To her darling, her Prometheus, - Brought a brimming bowl of nectar - To the underworld from heaven - To rejoice his race of mortals, - And to quicken in their bosom - Of all gracious arts the impulse, - Fearing Jupiter should see her, - With a rapid foot she hastened, - And the golden bowl was shaken, - And there fell some slender sprinklings - On the verdurous plain below her. - - Whereupon the bees grew busy - With the same in eager sucking. - Came the butterfly as eager - Some small drop to gather also. - Even the spider, the unshapely, - Hither crept and sucked with gusto. - Happy are they to have tasted, - They and other delicate creatures, - For they share henceforth with mortals - Art, of all earth’s joys the fairest. - - - - -AMOR AS LANDSCAPE-PAINTER - -_Imitated from_ GOETHE’S “AMOR ALS LANDSCHAFTSMALER” - - - On a point of rock I sat one morning, - Gazed with fixèd eyes upon the vapour, - Like a sheet of solid grey outspreading - Did it cover all in plain and mountain. - - By my side meanwhile a boy had placed him, - And he spake. “Good friend, how can’st thou calmly - Stare upon the void grey sheet before thee? - Hast thou then for painting and for modelling - All desire, it seemeth, lost for ever?” - - On the child I looked, and thought in secret, - “Would the little lad then play the Master?” - - “If thou wouldst be ever sad and idle,” - Spake the boy, “no thing of skill can follow. - Look! I’ll paint you straight a little picture, - Teach you how to paint a pretty picture.” - - And thereon forth stretched he his forefinger, - Which was rosy even as a rose blossom, - To the ample canvas strained before him - Set to work at sketching with his finger. - There on high a glorious sun he painted, - Which mine eyes with its effulgence dazzled, - And the fringe of clouds he made it golden. - Through the clouds he let press forth the sunbeams, - Then the tree-tops delicate, light, he painted, - Late refreshed and quickened. Over the hillrange - Hill behind hill folded, for a background. - Nor were waters wanting. There below them - He the river limned, so true to Nature, - That it seemed to sparkle in the sunbeams, - That against its banks it seemed to murmur. - - And there stood beside the river flowers, - And their colours glowed upon the meadow, - Gold and an enamel green and purple; - As if all were emerald and carbuncle. - Pure and clear above he limned the heaven, - And the azure mountains far and further, - So that I, new-born and all enraptured, - Gazed on now the painter, now the picture. - - “I have given thee proof, perhaps,” so spake he, - “That this handicraft I’ve comprehended - But the hardest part is yet to follow.” - - Then and with his finger-tip he outlined, - Using utmost care beside the thicket, - At the point where from earth’s gleaming surface - Was the sun cast back in all its radiance-- - Outlined there the loveliest of maidens, - Fair of form, now clad in richest raiment, - Brown her hair and ’neath it cheeks the freshest - And the cheeks were of the self-same colour - As the pretty finger that had drawn them. - - “O my boy,” I cried, “declare what master - Did receive thee in his school as pupil, - That so swiftly and so true to Nature - Thou with skill beginn’st and well completest?” - - But while yet I spake a breeze uprises. - And behold, it sets astir the summits, - Curleth every wave upon the river, - Puffs the veil out of the charming maiden. - And, what me the astonished, more astonished, - Now the maiden’s foot is put in motion, - She advances, and to the place draws nearer, - Where I sit beside the cunning Master. - - Now when all things, all things are in motion, - Trees and river, flowers and veil outblowing, - And the slender foot of her the fairest, - Think you I upon my rock stayed seated, - Speechless as a rock and as immobile? - - - - -THE WANDERER - -_Imitated from_ GOETHE’S “DER WANDERER” - - -WANDERER - - God’s grace be thine, young woman - And his, the boy who sucks - That breast of thine. - Here let me on the craggy scar, - In shade of the great elm, - My knapsack fling from me - And rest me by thy side. - - -WOMAN - - What business urges thee - Now in the heat of day - Along this dusty path? - Bringest thou some city merchandise - Into the country round? - Thou smilest, stranger, - At this my question. - - -WANDERER - - No city merchandise I bring, - Cool now the evening grows, - Show me the rills - Whence thou dost drink, - My good young woman. - - -WOMAN - - Here, up the rocky path, - Go onward. Through the shrubs - The path runs by the cot - Wherein I dwell, - On to the rills - From whence I drink. - - -WANDERER - - Traces of ordering human hands - Betwixt the underwood. - These stones _thou_ hast not so disposed, - Nature--thou rich dispensatress. - - -WOMAN - - Yet further up. - - -WANDERER - - With moss o’erlaid, an architrave! - I recognize thee, plastic spirit, - Thou hast impressed thy seal upon the stone. - - -WOMAN - - Further yet, stranger. - - -WANDERER - - Lo, an inscription whereupon I tread, - But all illegible, - Worn out by wayfarers are ye, - Which should show forth your Master’s piety, - Unto a thousand children’s children. - - -WOMAN - - In wonder, stranger, dost thou gaze - Upon these stones? - Up yonder round my cot - Are many such. - - -WANDERER - - Up yonder? - - -WOMAN - - Leftwards directly - On through the underwood, - Here! - - -WANDERER - - Ye Muses! and ye Graces! - - -WOMAN - - That is my cottage. - - -WANDERER - - The fragments of a temple! - - -WOMAN - - Here onwards on one side - The rivulet flows - From whence I drink. - - -WANDERER - - Glowing, then hoverest - Above thy sepulchre, - Genius! Over thee - Is tumbled in a heap - Thy masterpiece, - O thou undying one! - - -WOMAN - - Wait till I bring the vessel - That thou mayst drink. - - -WANDERER - - Ivy hath clad around - Thy slender form divine. - How do ye upward strive - From out the wreck, - Twin columns! - And thou, the solitary sister there, - How do ye, - With sombre moss upon your sacred heads, - Gaze in majestic mourning down - Upon these scattered fragments - There at your feet, - Your kith and kin! - Where lie the shadows of the bramble bush, - Concealed by wrack and earth, - And the long grass wavers above. - Nature dost then so hold in price - Thy masterpiece’s masterpiece? - Dost thou, regardless, shatter thus - Thy sanctuary? - Dost sow the thistles therein? - - -WOMAN - - How the boy sleeps! - Wouldst thou within the cottage rest, - Stranger? Wouldst here - Rather than ’neath the open heavens bide? - Now it is cool. Here, take the boy. - Let me go draw the water. - Sleep, darling, sleep! - - -WANDERER - - Sweet is thy rest. - How, bathed in heavenly healthiness, - Restful he breathes! - Thou, born above the relics - Of a most sacred past, - Upon thee may its spirit rest. - He whom it environeth - Will in the consciousness of power divine - Each day enjoy. - Seedling so rich expand, - The shining spring’s - Resplendent ornament, - In presence of thy fellows shine, - And when the flower-sheathe fades and falls - May from thy bosom rise - The abounding fruit, - And ripening, front the sun. - - -WOMAN - - God bless him--and ever still he sleeps. - Nought have I with this water clear - Except a piece of bread to offer thee. - - -WANDERER - - I give thee thanks. - How gloriously all blooms around - And groweth green! - - -WOMAN - - My husband soon - Home from the fields - Returns. Stay, stay, O man, - And eat with us thy evening bread. - - -WANDERER - - Here do ye dwell? - - -WOMAN - - There, between yonder walls, - The cot. My father builded it - Of brick, and of the wreckage stones. - Here do we dwell. - He gave me to a husbandman, - And in our arms he died-- - Sweetheart--and hast thou slept? - How bright he is--and wants to play. - My rogue! - - -WANDERER - - O Nature! everlastingly conceiving. - Each one thou bearest for the joy of life, - All of thy babes thou hast endowed - Lovingly with a heritage--a Name. - High on the cornice doth the swallow build, - Of what an ornament she hides - All unaware. - The caterpillar round the golden bough - Spins her a winter quarters for her young. - Thus dost thou patch in ’twixt the august - Fragments of bygone time - For needs of thine--for thy own needs - A hut. O men-- - Rejoicing over graves. - Farewell, thou happy wife. - - -WOMAN - - Thou wilt not stay? - - -WANDERER - - God keep you safe - And bless your boy. - - -WOMAN - - A happy wayfaring! - - -WANDERER - - Where doth the pathway lead me - Over the mountain there? - - -WOMAN - - To Cuma. - - -WANDERER - - How far is it hence? - - -WOMAN - - ’Tis three good miles. - - -WANDERER - - Farewell! - O Nature! guide my way, - The stranger’s travel-track - Which over graves - Of sacred times foregone - I still pursue. - Me to some covert guide, - Sheltered against the north, - And where from noontide’s glare - A poplar grove protects. - And when at eve I turn - Home to the hut, - Made golden with the sun’s last beam, - Grant that such wife may welcome me, - The boy upon her arm. - - - - -IMITATED FROM GOETHE’S “ALEXIS AND DORA” - - - Ah, without stop or stay the ship still momently presses - On through the foaming deep, further and further from shore. - Far-traced the furrow is cut by the keel, and in it the dolphins - Bounding follow as though prey were before them in flight. - All betokens a fortunate voyage; light-hearted the shipman - Gently handles the sail that takes on it labour for all. - Forward as pennon and streamer presses the voyager’s spirit, - One alone by the mast stands reverted and sad. - Mountains already blue he sees departing, he sees them - Sink in the sea, while sinks every joy from his gaze. - Also for thee has vanished the ship that bears thy Alexis, - Robs thee, O Dora, of friend, robs thee of, ah! the betrothed. - Thou, too, gazest in vain after me. Our hearts are still beating - For one another, but ah! on one another no more. - Single moment wherein I have lived, thou weigh’st in the balance - More than all days erewhile coldly squandered by me. - Ah, in that moment alone, the last, arose in my bosom - Life unhoped for in thee, come down as a gift from the Gods. - Now in vain dost thou with thy light make glorious the æther, - Thy all-illumining day--Phœbus, by me is abhorred. - Back on myself I return, and fain would I there in the silence - Live o’er again the time when daily to me she appeared. - Was it possible beauty to see and never to feel it? - Did not the heavenly charm work on thy dullness of soul? - Blame not thyself, poor heart, so the poet proposes a riddle, - Artfully wrought into words oft to the ear of the crowd, - The network of images, lovely and strange, is a joy to the hearer, - Yet still there lacketh the word affirming the sense of the whole. - Is it at last disclosed, then every spirit is gladdened, - And in the verse perceives meaning of twofold delight. - Ah, why so late, O love, dost thou unbind from my forehead - Wrappings that darkened my eyes--why too late dost unbind? - Long time the freighted bark delayed for favouring breezes, - Fair at last rose the wind pressing off-shore to the sea. - Idle seasons of youth and idle dreams of the future - Ye have departed--for me only remaineth the hour; - Yes, it remains the gladness remaining for me; Dora, I hold thee. - Hope to my gaze presents, Dora, thy image alone. - Often on thy way to the temple I saw thee gay-decked and decorous, - Stepped the good mother beside, all ceremonious and grave. - Quick-footed wert thou and eager, bearing thy fruit to the market, - Quitting the well, thy head how daringly balanced the jar; - There, lo! thy throat was shown, thy neck more fair than all others, - Fairer than others were shown the poise and play of thy limbs. - Ofttime I held me in fear for the totter and crash of the pitcher, - Yet upright ever it stood, there where the kerchief was pleached. - Fairest neighbour, yes, my wont it was to behold thee, - As we behold the stars, as we contemplate the moon. - In them rejoicing, while never once in the tranquil bosom, - Even in shadow of thought stirs the desire to possess. - Thus did ye pass, my years. But twenty paces asunder - Our dwellings, thine and mine, nor once on thy threshold I trod. - Now the hideous deep divides us! Ye lie to the heavens, - Billows! your lordly blue to me is the colour of night. - Already was everything in motion. A boy came running - Swift to my father’s house, calling me down to the shore. - “The sail is already hoisted; it flaps in the wind,” so spake he. - “Weighed with a lusty cheer the anchor parts from the sand. - Come, Alexis! O come!” And gravely, in token of blessing, - Laid my good father his hand on the clustering curls of the son. - Careful the mother reached me a bundle newly made ready; - “Come back happy!” they cried. “Come back happy and rich.” - So out of doors, the bundle under my arm, did I fling me, - And at the wall below, there by the garden gate, - Saw thee stand; thou smiledst upon me and spake’st. “Alexis, - Yonder clamouring folk, are these thy comrades aboard? - Distant shores thou visitest now and merchandise precious - Thou dost deal in, and jewels for the wealthy city dames. - Wilt thou not bring me also one little light chain? I would buy it - Thankfully. I have wished so oft to adorn me with this.” - Holding my own I stood and asked, in the way of a merchant, - First of the form, the weight exact, of the order thou gavest. - Modest in truth was the price thou assignedst. While gazing upon thee, - Neck and shoulders I saw worthy the jewels of our queen. - Louder sounded the cry from the ship. Then saidest thou kindly, - “Some of the garden fruit take thou with thee on thy way. - Take the ripest oranges--take white figs. The sea yields - Never a fruit at all. Nor doth every country give fruits.” - Thereon I stepped within; the fruit thou busily broughtest, - There in the gathered robe bearing a burden all gold. - Often I pleaded, “see this is enough,” and ever another - And fairer fruit down dropped, lightly touched, to thy hand. - Then at the last to the bower thou camest. There was a basket, - And the myrtle in bloom bent over thee, over me. - Skilfully didst thou begin to arrange the fruit and in silence. - First the orange, that lies heavy a globe of gold, - Then the tenderer fig, which slightest pressure will injure, - And with myrtle o’erlaid, fair adorned was the gift. - But I lifted it not. I stood, we looked one another - Full in the eyes. When straight the sight of my eyes waxed dim. - Thy bosom I felt on my own! and now my arm encircled - The stately neck, whereon thousandfold kisses I showered. - Sank thy head on my shoulder--by tender arms enfolded - As with a chain was he the man whom thou hast made blest. - The hands of Love I felt, he drew us with might together, - And thrice from a cloudless sky it thundered; and now there flowed - Tears from my eyes, down streaming, weeping wert thou. I wept, - And through sorrow and joy the world seemed to pass from our sense. - Ever more urgent their shoreward cry; but thither to bear me - My feet refused: I cried, “Dora, and art thou not mine?” - “For ever,” thou gently saidst. And thereon it seemed that our tears, - As by some breath divine, gently were blown from our eyes. - Nearer the cry “Alexis!” Then peered the boy, as he sought me, - In through the garden gate. How the basket he eyed. - How he constrained me. How I pressed thee once more by the hand. - How arrived I aboard? I know as one drunken I seemed. - Even so my companions took me to be; they bore with one ailing, - And already in haze of distance the city grew dim. - “For ever,” Dora, thy whisper was. In my ear it echoes - Even with the thunder of Zeus. There stood she by his throne, - She, his daughter, the Goddess of Love, and beside her the Graces. - So by the Gods confirmed this our union abides. - O then haste thee, our bark, with the favouring winds behind thee. - Labour, thou lusty keel, sunder the foaming flood! - Bring me to that strange haven; that so for me may the goldsmith - In his workshop anon fashion the heavenly pledge. - Ay, in truth, the chainlet shall grow to a chain, O Dora. - Nine times loosely wound shall it encircle thy neck. - Further, jewels most manifold will I procure for thee; golden - Bracelets also. My gifts richly shall deck thy hand. - There shall the ruby contend with the emerald; loveliest sapphire - Matched against jacinth shall stand, while with a setting of gold - Every gem may be held in a perfect union of beauty. - O what joy for the lover to grace with jewel and gold the beloved. - If pearls I view, my thought is of thee; there rises before me - With every ring the shape slender and fair of thy hand. - I will barter and buy, and out of them all the fairest - Thou shalt choose. I devote all my lading to thee. - But not jewel and gem alone shall thy lover procure thee. - What a housewife would choose, that will he bring with him too. - Coverlets delicate, woollen and purple, hemmed to make ready - A couch that grateful and soft fondly shall welcome the pair. - Lengths of the finest linen. Thou sittest and sewest and clothest - Me therein and thyself, and haply also a third. - Visions of hope delude my heart. Allay, O Divine Ones, - Flames of resistless desire wildly at work in my breast, - And yet I fain would recall delights that are bitter, - When care to me draws near, hideous, cold and unmoved. - Not the Erinnyes torch nor the baying of hounds infernal - Strikes such terror in him, the culprit in realms of despair, - As that phantom unmoved in me who shows me the fair one - Far away. Open stands even now the garden gate, - And another, not I, draws near--for him fruits are falling, - And for him, too, the fig strengthening honey retains. - Him too doth she draw to the bower. Does he follow? O sightless - Make me, O Gods! destroy the vision of memory in me. - Yes--a maiden is she--she who gives herself straight to one lover, - She to another who woes as speedily turns her around. - Laugh not, O Zeus, this time, at an oath audaciously broken-- - Thunder more fiercely! strike! yet hold back thy lightning shaft. - Send on my trace the sagging clouds. In gloom as of night-time - Let thy bright lightning-flash strike this ill-fated mast. - Scatter the planks around and give to the raging waters - This my merchandise. Give me to the dolphins a prey. - Now ye Muses enough! In vain is your effort to image - How in a heart that loves alternate sorrow and joy. - Nor are ye able to heal those wounds which Love has inflicted, - Yet their assuagement comes, Gracious Ones, only from you. - - - EDITOR’S NOTE.--The four Goethe translations with which this volume - closes are taken from rough jottings, hardly more than - _protoplasm_. - - They much need re-handling, which they cannot now receive. Many - lines are, as verse, defective for the ear ... yet some contain - sufficient beauty, as well as fidelity, in translation to justify, - perhaps, their preservation as fragments of unfinished work. - - This does not apply to the other translations which were left by E. - D. in fair MS. as completed. - - -COLSTONS LIMITED, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Edward Dowden - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 55086-0.txt or 55086-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/8/55086/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Edward Dowden - -Release Date: July 10, 2017 [EBook #55086] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="316" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="c">POEMS<br /> -——<br /> -EDWARD DOWDEN</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/frontispiece_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" class="bdr" width="366" height="500" alt="[Portrait of Edward Dowden -unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<h1>POEMS</h1> -<p class="cb"> -<small>BY</small><br /> -<br /> -EDWARD DOWDEN<br /> -<br /> -<img src="images/colophon.jpg" -width="125" -alt="" -/> -<br /> -<br /><br /> -<span class="rredd">MCMXIV. J. M. DENT & SONS LTD.</span><br /> -LONDON AND TORONTO</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a>{v}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Wanderer</span> (<i>Sept. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Fountain</span> (<i>Sept. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_002">2</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">In the Galleries—</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. The Apollo Belvedere</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_005">5</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. The Venus of Melos</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_005">5</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. Antinous Crowned as Bacchus (<i>Feb. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_006">6</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. Leonardo’s “Monna Lisa” (<i>Dec. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_007">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. St Luke Painting the Virgin (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_007">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">On the Heights</span> (<i>Feb. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_009">9</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">“La Révélation par le Désert”</span> (<i>Feb. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_013">13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Morning Star</span> (<i>Aug. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_019">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">A Child’s Noonday Sleep</span> (<i>Aug. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_022">22</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">In the Garden—</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. The Garden (<i>1867</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_024">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. Visions (<i>1866</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_024">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. An Interior</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_025">25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. The Singer</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_026">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. A Summer Moon (<i>1866</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_026">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI. A Peach</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_027">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VII. Early Autumn</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_028">28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VIII. Later Autumn</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_028">28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Heroines</span> (<i>1873</i>)—</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Helena</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Atalanta</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_036">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Europa</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_044">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Andromeda</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_047">47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Eurydice</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_052">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">By the Sea</span>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. The Assumption (<i>Aug. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_058">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. The Artist’s Waiting (<i>Sept. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_058">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. Counsellors (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_059">59</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. Evening (<i>July 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_060">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. Joy (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_060">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI. Ocean (<i>May 1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_061">61</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VII. News for London</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_061">61</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Among the Rocks</span> (<i>1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_063">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">To a Year</span> (<i>Dec. 31, 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_066">66</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">A Song of the New Day</span> (<i>Sept. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_067">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Swallows</span> (<i>July 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_068">68</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Memorials of Travel</span>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. Coaching (<i>1867</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_070">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. In a Mountain Pass (<i>1867</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_070">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. The Castle (<i>1867</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_071">71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. Άισθητιχή φαντασία</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. On the Sea-cliff (<i>1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI. Ascetic Nature</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_073">73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VII. Relics</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VIII. On the Pier of Boulogne</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IX. Dover (<i>1862</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_075">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">An Autumn Song</span> (<i>1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_076">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Burdens</span> (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_077">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Song</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_078">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">By the Window</span> (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_081">81</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Sunsets</span> (<i>June 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_083">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Oasis</span> (<i>1866</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Foreign Speech</span> (<i>1868</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_085">85</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">In the Twilight</span> (<i>1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Inner Life</span>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. A Disciple</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. Theists (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. Seeking God (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_088">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. Darwinism in Morals (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_088">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. Awakening (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_089">89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI. Fishers</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_090">90</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VII. Communion (<i>1862</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_090">90</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VIII. A Sonnet for the Times</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_091">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IX. Emmausward (<i>1867</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_091">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> X. A Farewell (<i>Sept. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> XI. Deliverance (<i>Oct. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_093">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">XII. Paradise Lost</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_093">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Resting Place</span> (<i>Sept. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_095">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">New Hymns for Solitude</span>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. (<i>Oct. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_097">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_098">98</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_099">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI. (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">In the Cathedral Close</span> (<i>1876</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_101">101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">First Love</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Secret of the Universe</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Beau Rivage Hotel</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_107">107</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">In a June Night</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_108">108</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">From April to October</span>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I. Beauty</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_112">112</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II. Two Infinities</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_112">112</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III. The Dawn (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV. The Skylark (<i>1866</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V. The Mill-race</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI. In the Wood</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VII. The Pause of Evening (<i>Aug. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VIII. In July</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IX. In September</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> X. In the Window (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> XI. An Autumn Morning</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Sea Voices</span> (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_119">119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Aboard the “Sea-Swallow”</span> (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Sea-sighing</span> (<i>1871</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">In the Mountains</span> (<i>April 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">“The Top of a Hill called Clear</span>” (<i>May 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Initiation</span> (<i>Oct. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Renunciants</span> (<i>Nov. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Speakers to God</span> (<i>April 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_131">131</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Poesia</span> (<i>Feb. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_133">133</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Musicians</span> (<i>Jan. 1873</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_134">134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Miscellaneous Sonnets</span>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">A Day of Defection</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Song and Silence</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_140">140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Love-tokens</span> (<i>Nov. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_141">141</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">A Dream</span> (<i>Aug. 1875</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Michelangelesque</span> (<i>Oct. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_143">143</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Life’s Gain</span> (<i>Aug. 1872</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Compensation</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_145">145</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">To a Child Dead as soon as Born</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Brother Death</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_147">147</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Mage</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_148">148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Wise Passiveness</span> (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_149">149</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Singer’s Plea</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_150">150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Trespasser</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_151">151</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Ritualism</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_152">152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">Prometheus Unbound</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_153">153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">King Mob</span> (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_154">154</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">The Modern Elijah</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_155">155</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"><span class="smcap">David and Michal</span> (<i>1865</i>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_156">156</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">Windle-straws</span> (<i>1872</i>)—</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> I.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_159">159</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> II.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_159">159</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> III.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> IV.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> V.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VI.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top"> VII.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rtnum" valign="top">VIII.</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xi" id="page_xi"></a>{xi}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Goethe</span> says in a little poem<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> that “Poems are stained glass -windows”—“<i>Gedichte sind gemalte Fensterscheiben</i>”—to be seen aright -not from the “market-place” but only from the interior of the church, -“<i>die heilige Kapelle</i>”: and that “<i>der Herr Philister</i>” (equivalent for -“indolent Reviewer”) glances at them from without and gets out of temper -because he finds them unintelligible from his “market-place” standpoint. -This comparison is a pretty conceit, and holds good as a half truth—but -not more than a half: for while the artist who paints his “church -windows” needs only to make them beautiful from within, the maker of -poems must so shape and colour his work that its outer side—the -technical, towards the “market-place” of the public—shall have no lack -of beauty, though differing from the beauty visible from the spiritual -interior.</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> “Sechzehn Parabeln,” <i>Gedichte</i>, Leoper’s edition (p. 180) -of Goethe’s <i>Gedichte</i>.</p></div> - -<p>The old volume of <i>Edward Dowden’s Poems</i> of 1876, which is now -reprinted with additions, has<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xii" id="page_xii"></a>{xii}</span> been, to a limited extent, long before -the public—seen from the “market-place” by general critics, who, for -the most part, approved the outer side of the “painted windows,” and -seen perhaps from within by some few like-minded readers, who, though no -definite door was opened into “<i>die heilige Kapelle</i>,” somehow entered -in.</p> - -<p>But a great many people, to whom the author’s prose works are well -known, have never even heard that he had written poetry. This is due in -a measure to the fact that the published book of poems only got into -circulation by its first small edition. Its second edition found a -silent apotheosis in flame at a great fire at the publisher’s in London, -in which nearly the whole of it perished.</p> - -<p>Edward Dowden’s chief work has been as a prose writer. That fact -remains—yet it is accidental rather than essential. In the early -seventies he felt the urge very strongly towards making verse his -vocation in life, and he probably would have yielded to it, but for the -necessity to be bread-winner for a much-loved household. Poetry is a -ware of small commercial value, as most poets—at least for a long space -of their lives—have known, and prose, for even a young writer of -promise, held out prospects of bread for immediate eating. Hence to -prose he turned, and on that road went his way, and whether the -accidental<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiii" id="page_xiii"></a>{xiii}</span> circumstances that determined his course at the parting of -the ways wrought loss or gain for our literature, who can say?</p> - -<p>But he never wholly abandoned verse, and all through his life, even to -the very end, he would fitfully, from time to time, utter in it a part -of himself which never found complete issue in prose and which was his -most real self.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the nearest approaches to his utterance in poetry occurred -sometimes in his College lecturing, when in the midst of a written -discourse he would interrupt it and stop and liberate his heart in a -little rush of words—out of the depths, accompanied by that familiar -gesture of his hands which always came to him when emotionally stirred -in speaking. Some of his students have told me that they usually found -those little extempore bits in a lecture by far the most illuminated and -inspiring parts of it, especially as it was then that his voice, always -musical in no common degree, vibrated, and acquired a richer tone.</p> - -<p>In his prose writings in general he seemed to curb and restrain himself. -That he did so was by no means an evil, for the habitual retinence in -his style gave to the little rare outbreaks of emotion the quality of -charm that we find in a tender flower growing out of a solid stone wall -unexpectedly.</p> - -<p>Not infrequently a sort of hard irony was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiv" id="page_xiv"></a>{xiv}</span> employed by him, as restraint -on enthusiasm, with occasional loosening of the curb.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>In Edward Dowden’s soul there seemed to be capacities which might, under -other circumstances, have made him more than a minor poet. His was a -more than usually rich, sensuous nature. This, combined with absolute -purity—the purity not of ice and snow, but of fire. And, superadded, -was an unlimited capacity for sternness—that quality which, as salt, -acts as preservative of all human ardours. He came from his Maker, -fashioned out of the stuff whereof are made saints, patriots, martyrs, -and the great lovers in the world. His work as a scholar never -obliterated anything of this in him. By this, his erudition gained -richness—the richness of vital blood. It was as no anæmic recluse that -he dwelt amongst his book-shelves, and hence no Faust-like weariness of -intellectual satiety ever came to him, no sense of being “<i>beschränkt -mit diesem Bücherhauf</i>” in his surroundings of his library (which -latterly had grown to some twenty-four thousand volumes). He lived in -company with these in a twofold way, keenly and accurately grasping all -their textual details, and at the same time valuing them for the sake, -chiefly, of spiritual converse with the writers.</p> - -<p>Besides the spiritual converse he gained thus,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xv" id="page_xv"></a>{xv}</span> he found, as a -book-lover, a fertile source of recreation in the collecting of literary -rarities, old books, MSS. and curiosities. In this he felt the keen zest -of a sportsman. This was his shooting on the moors, his fishing in the -rivers. No living creature ever lost its life for his amusement, but in -this innocuous play he found unfailing pleasure, and many a piece of -luck he had with his gun or rod in hitting some rare bird, or landing -some big prize of a fish out of old booksellers’ catalogues or the -“carts” in the back streets.</p> - -<p>His physical nature was fully and strongly developed, and it is out of -strong physical instincts that strong spiritual instincts often -grow—the boundary line between them being undefined.</p> - -<p>His one athletic exercise—swimming—was to him a joy of no common sort. -He gave himself to the sea with an eagerness of body, soul and spirit, -breasting the bright waters exultingly on many a summer’s day on some -West of Ireland or Cornish shore, revelling in the sea’s life and in his -own.</p> - -<p>And akin to that, in the sensuous, spiritual region of the soul, was his -feeling for all External Nature, his deep delight in the coming of each -new Spring—its blackthorn blossoms, its hazel and willow catkins, its -daffodils—and his response, as the year went on in its procession, to -the glory of the furze and heather glow and to all Earth’s sounds and -silences.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xvi" id="page_xvi"></a>{xvi}</span></p> - -<p>And of a like sort was his enjoyment of music which had the depth of a -passion.</p> - -<p>Very possibly, if his lot had been cast in early Christian or mediæval -times, all these impulses towards the joy and beauty of the earth might -have been sternly crushed out by the moral forces of his character.</p> - -<p>Looking at a picture of St. Jerome one day—not unlike E. D. in -feature—I said to him, “There’s what <i>you</i> would have been if you had -lived in those times.” (The saint is depicted there as lean, emaciated -and woefully dirty!).</p> - -<p>It was well for Edward Dowden that he was laid hold of in his early life -by that great non-ascetic soul, William Wordsworth. He was initiated -into the inner secret of Wordsworth. He had experience of the -Wordsworthian ecstasy—that ecstasy which comes, if at all, straight as -a gift from God, and is not to be taught by the teaching of the scribes.</p> - -<p>Through kinship a man who is born potentially a poet comes first into -relation with poets, and with E. Dowden’s sensuousness of capacities it -was natural that he should be in his early years attracted to Keats, to -the long, deep, rich dwelling of his verse on the vision and the sounds -of Nature. It was not until he had advanced some way towards middle life -that he came into vital contact with Shelley. He had felt aloof from -him; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xvii" id="page_xvii"></a>{xvii}</span> the attraction, when once owned, became very powerful, and he -yielded to the delight of the swift motion of the Shelleyan utterances.</p> - -<p>He always recognized Robert Browning’s greatness profoundly, and -responded to all his best truths, especially as regards the relation, in -love, of Man and Woman, but he never became pledged to an all-round -Browning worship; his admiration had no discipleship in it.</p> - -<p>For Walt Whitman, with whom a personal friendship, strong on both sides, -was formed, he felt the cordial reverence due to the giver of what he -reckoned as a gift of immense value. While condemning whatever was -unreticent in <i>Leaves of Grass</i>, he at the same time saw there the great -flood of spirituality available as a force for emancipation of our -hearts from pressure of sordidnesses in the world.</p> - -<p>It is somewhat remarkable that with all his trend towards the great -spiritual and mystical forces in literature he was all along never -without a keen appreciation of the writers who brought mundane -shrewdness and wisdom. The first book he bought for himself in childhood -with the hoarded savings of his pocket-money was <i>Bacon’s Essays</i>, with -which as a small boy he became very familiar. And all through his life -he sought with unfailing pleasure the companionship of Jane Austen again -and again. And amongst the books which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xviii" id="page_xviii"></a>{xviii}</span> himself made, it was perhaps -his <i>Montaigne</i> that gave him, in the process of making, the delicatest -satisfaction—the satisfaction of witnessing and analysing the dexterous -play of human intellect and character on low levels.</p> - -<p>His attraction to Goethe—very dominant with him in middle life—came, I -imagine, from the fact that he saw in that mightiest of the Teutons two -diverse qualities in operation—the measureless intellectual -spirituality and the vast common-sense of mundane wisdom.</p> - -<p>In this attraction there was also the element of the magnetism which -draws together opposites—not less forcible than the attraction between -affinities.</p> - -<p>As regards the moral nature, his own was as far as the North Pole is -from the South from that of the great sage of Weimar, whose -serenely-wise beneficence contained no potentialities of sainthood, -martyrdom or absolute human love. He sought gain from Goethe just -<i>because</i> of that unlikeness to what was in himself.</p> - -<p>At one period of his literary work he was intending to make as his -“<i>opus magnus</i>” a full study of Goethe’s life and works, and with that -intent he carried on a course of reading, and laid in a great equipment -of workman’s tools—Goethe books in German, French and English. From -this project he was turned aside by a call to write<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xix" id="page_xix"></a>{xix}</span> the life of -Shelley—a long and difficult task. But he never lost sight of Goethe. -In one of the later years of his life, as recreation in a summer’s -holiday in Cornwall, he translated the whole of the “West-Eastern Divan” -into English verse, and previously, from time to time, isolated essays -on Goethe themes appeared amongst his prose writings. And yet it is not -unlikely that even if the task of Shelley’s biography had not -intervened, no complete study, such as he had at first planned, might -have been ever accomplished by him on Goethe, for with experience there -came to him a growing conviction that his best work in criticism could -only be done in dealing with what was written in his mother-tongue.</p> - -<p>Some of Edward Dowden’s friends, Nationalist and Unionist both, have -felt regret that he, the gentle scholar, gave such large share of his -energies to the strife of politics, as if force were subtracted thereby -from his work in Literature. They are mistaken. The output of energy -thus given came back to the giver, reinforcing his prose writing with a -mundane vigour and virility, exceeding what it might have had if he had -kept himself aloof from the affairs of the nation.</p> - -<p>Yet, strangely enough, between his politics and his poetry there was a -water-tight wall of separation. Other men, to take scattered instances, -Kipling, Wordsworth, Milton, fused in various<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xx" id="page_xx"></a>{xx}</span> ways their political -feeling and their poetical. This Edward Dowden never attempted. I cannot -analyse the “why.”</p> - -<p>Confining myself to some points which seem left out of sight in most of -the admirably appreciative obituary notices in last April’s newspapers, -I have tried to say here, in a fragmentary way, a few things about a man -of whom many things—infinitely many—might be said without exhausting -the total. He was himself at the same time many and one. He had -multiform aspects—interests very diverse—and yet life was for him in -no wise “patchy and scrappy,” but had unity throughout.</p> - -<p>In Shakespeare, whose faithful scholar he was, there are diversities: -and yet, do we not image Shakespeare to our minds as one and a whole?</p> - -<p>In the volumes now issued by Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons is contained all -the verse that the author left available for publication, with the -exception of a sequence of a hundred and one lyrics (which by desire is -separately published under the somewhat transparent disguise of -editorship). That little sequence, named <i>A Woman’s Reliquary</i>, is his -latest work in verse. Much in it re-echoes sounds that can be heard in -his old poems of the early seventies.</p> - -<p class="r"> -E. D. D.<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>September 1913.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_WANDERER1" id="THE_WANDERER1"></a>THE WANDERER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I cast</span> my anchor nowhere (the waves whirled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My anchor from me); East and West are one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me; against no winds are my sails furled;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">—Merely my planet anchors to the Sun.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_FOUNTAIN" id="THE_FOUNTAIN"></a>THE FOUNTAIN<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<span class="smcap">An Introduction To the Sonnets</span>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hush</span>, let the fountain murmur dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Melodious secrets; stir no limb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lie along the marge and wait,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till deep and pregnant as with fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fine as a star-beam, crystal-clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each ripple grows upon the ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is that fountain seldom seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By mortal wanderer,—Hippocrene,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the virgins three times three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy singing brood, Mnemosyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loosen’d the girdle, and with grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pure joy their faultless bodies gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sacred pleasure of the wave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen! the lapsing waters tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The urgence uncontrollable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which makes the trouble of their breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bears them onward with no rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ampler skies and some grey plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad with the tumbling of the main.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But see, a sidelong eddy slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back into the soft eclipse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of day, while careless fate allows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkling beneath still olive boughs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then with chuckle liquid sweet<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coils within its shy retreat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is mine, no wave of might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But pure and live with glimmering light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dare not follow that broad flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Poesy, whose lustihood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nourishes mighty lands, and makes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resounding music for their sakes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lie beside the well-head clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With musing joy, with tender fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And choose for half a day to lean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus on my elbow where the green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Margin-grass and silver-white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Starry buds, the wind’s delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thirsting steer, nor goat-hoof rude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the branch-sundering Satyr brood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has ever pashed; now, now, I stoop,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in hand-hollow dare to scoop<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This scantling from the delicate stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It lies as quiet as a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lustrous in my curvèd hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it a crime if this were drain’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By lips which met the noonday blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fiery and emptied of its dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown me with small white marish-flowers!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the good Dæmon, and the Powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this fair haunt I offer up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In unprofanèd lily-cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Libations; still remains for me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bird’s drink of clear Poesy;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet not as light bird comes and dips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pert bill, but with reverent lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I drain this slender trembling tide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sweet the coolness at my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, lying back, to slowly pry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For spaces of the upper sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Radiant ’twixt woven olive leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, last, while some fair show deceives<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The closing eyes, to find a sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As full of healing and as deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As on toil-worn Odysseus lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surge-swept to his Ionian bay.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span></p> - - <h2> IN THE GALLERIES</h2> - -<h3>I. THE APOLLO BELVEDERE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Radiance</span> invincible! Is that the brow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which gleamed on Python while thy arrow sped?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are those the lips for Hyacinthus dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That grieved? Wherefore a God indeed art thou:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all we toil with ill, and the hours bow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And break us, and at best when we have bled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And are much marred, perchance propitiated<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little doubtful victory they allow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sorrow, and thenceforth the lip retains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shade, and the eyes shine and wonder less.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O joyous Slayer of evil things! O great<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And splendid Victor! God, whom no soil stains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of passion or doubt, of grief or languidness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Even to worship thee I come too late.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II. THE VENUS OF MELOS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Goddess</span>, or woman nobler than the God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No eyes a-gaze upon Ægean seas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shifting and circling past their Cyclades<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw thee. The Earth, the gracious Earth, wastrod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First by thy feet, while round thee lay her broad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm harvests, and great kine, and shadowing trees,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flowers like queens, and a full year’s increase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clusters, ripe berry, and the bursting pod.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So thy victorious fairness, unallied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bitter things or barren, doth bestow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And not exact; so thou art calm and wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy large allurement saves; a man may grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Plutarch’s men by standing at thy side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And walk thenceforward with clear-visioned eyes!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III. ANTINOUS CROWNED AS BACCHUS</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In the British Museum</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Who</span> crowned thy forehead with the ivy wreath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clustered berries burdening the hair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who gave thee godhood, and dim rites? Beware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O beautiful, who breathest mortal breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou delicate flame great gloom environeth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gods are free, and drink a stainless air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lightly on calm shoulders they upbear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A weight of joy eternal, nor can Death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cast o’er their sleep the shadow of her shrine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thou confessed too mortal by the o’er-fraught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crowned forehead, must thy drooped eyes ever see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glut of pleasure, those pale lips of thine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still suck a bitter-sweet satiety,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soul descend through cloudy realms of thought?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span></p> - -<h3>IV. LEONARDO’S “MONNA LISA”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Make</span> thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of knowing thee be absolute; I wait<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hour-long and waste a soul. What word of fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hides ’twixt the lips which smile and still forbear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Secret perfection! Mystery too fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tangle the sense no more lest I should hate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy delicate tyranny, the inviolate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poise of thy folded hands, thy fallen hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, nay,—I wrong thee with rough words; still be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Serene, victorious, inaccessible;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still smile but speak not; lightest irony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lurk ever ’neath thine eyelids’ shadow; still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’ertop our knowledge; Sphinx of Italy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Allure us and reject us at thy will!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V. ST LUKE PAINTING THE VIRGIN</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>By Van der Weyden</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">It</span> was Luke’s will; and she, the mother-maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would not gainsay; to please him pleased her best;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, here she sits with dovelike heart at rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brooding, and smoothest brow; the babe is laid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On lap and arm, glad for the unarrayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swatheless limbs he stretches; lightly pressed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By soft maternal fingers the full breast<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeks him, while half a sidelong glance is stayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By her own bosom and half passes down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To reach the boy. Through doors and window-frame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright airs flow in; a river tranquilly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Washes the small, glad Netherlandish town.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Innocent calm! no token here of shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pierced heart, sunless heaven, and Calvary.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ON_THE_HEIGHTS" id="ON_THE_HEIGHTS"></a>ON THE HEIGHTS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Here</span> are the needs of manhood satisfied!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sane breath, an amplitude for soul and sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The noonday silence of the summer hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this embracing solitude; o’er all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky unsearchable, which lays its claim,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A large redemption not to be annulled,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the heart; and far below, the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaking and breaking, smoothly, silently.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What need I any further? Now once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My arrested life begins, and I am man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Complete with eye, heart, brain, and that within<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which is the centre and the light of being;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O dull! who morning after morning chose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never to climb these gorse and heather slopes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cairn-crowned, but last within one seaward nook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wasted my soul on the ambiguous speech<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slow eye-mesmerism of rolling waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Courting oblivion of the heart. True life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was not which possessed me while I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prone on the perilous edge, mere eye and ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Staring upon the bright monotony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having let slide all force from me, each thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yield to the vision of the gleaming blank,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each nerve of motion and of sense grow numb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till to the bland persuasion of some breeze,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which played across my forehead and my hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lost volition would efface itself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I was mingled wholly in the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tumbling billow and upjetting surge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long reluctation, welter and refluent moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the reverberating tumultuousness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid shelf and hollow and angle black with spray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet under all oblivion there remained<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sense of some frustration, a pale dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Nature mocking man, and drawing down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As streams draw down the dust of gold, his will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His thought and passion to enrich herself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The insatiable devourer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Welcome earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My natural heritage! and this soft turf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These rocks which no insidious ocean saps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the wide air flows over, and the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Illumines. Take me, Mother, to thy breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather me close in tender, sustinent arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay bare thy bosom’s sweetness and its strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I may drink vigour and joy and love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, infinite composure of the hills!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou large simplicity of this fair world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Candour and calmness, with no mockery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No soft frustration, flattering sigh or smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which masks a tyrannous purpose; and ye Powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of these sky-circled heights, and Presences<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awful and strict, I find you favourable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who seek not to exclude me or to slay,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rather accept my being, take me up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into your silence and your peace. Therefore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By him whom ye reject not, gracious Ones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pure vows are made that haply he will be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not all unworthy of the world; he casts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth from him, never to resume again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Veiled nameless things, frauds of the unfilled heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fantastic pleasures, delicate sadnesses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lurid, and the curious, and the occult,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coward sleights and shifts, the manners of the slave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And long unnatural uses of dim life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hence with you! Robes of angels touch these heights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown by pure winds and I lay hold upon them.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here is a perfect bell of purple heath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made for the sky to gaze at reverently,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As faultless as itself, and holding light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad air and silence in its slender dome;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Small, but a needful moment in the sum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of God’s full joy—the abyss of ecstasy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which we hang as the bright bow of foam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the never-filled receptacle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hangs seven-hued where the endless cataract leaps.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O now I guess why you have summoned me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Headlands and heights, to your companionship;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Confess that I this day am needful to you!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heavens were loaded with great light, the winds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought you calm summer from a hundred fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night the stars had pricked you to desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The imminent joy at its full season flowered,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was a consummation, the broad wave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toppled and fell. And had ye voice for this?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sufficient song to unburden the urged breast?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pastoral pipe to play? a lyre to touch?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brightening glory of the heath and gorse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could not appease your passion, nor the cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this wild bird that flits from bush to bush.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me therefore you required, a voice for song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pastoral pipe to play, a lyre to touch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I recognize your bliss to find me here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky at morning when the sun upleaps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Demands her atom of intense melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her point of quivering passion and delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will not let the lark’s heart be at ease.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take me, the brain with various, subtile fold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The breast that knows swift joy, the vocal lips;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I yield you here the cunning instrument<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between your knees; now let the plectrum fall!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LA_REVELATION_PAR_LE_DESERT" id="LA_REVELATION_PAR_LE_DESERT"></a>“LA RÉVÉLATION PAR LE DÉSERT”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanzasml"> -<span class="i0">“Toujours le désert se montre à l’horizon, quand vous prononcez le nom de Jéhovah.”<br /></span> -<span class="ie"><span class="smcap">Edgar Quinet.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Beyond</span> the places haunted by the feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thoughts and swift desires, and where the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wing’d imaginings are wild, and dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glide by on noiseless plumes, beyond the dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Veiled sisterhood of ever-circling mists,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who dip their urns in those enchanted meres<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all thought fails, and every ardour dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the vapour dead looms a low moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the fountains of the dawn, beyond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The white home of the morning star, lies spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A desert lifeless, bright, illimitable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world’s confine, o’er which no sighing goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From weary winds of Time.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">I sat me down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a red stone flung on the red sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In length as great as some sarcophagus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which holds a king, but scribbled with no runes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bald, and unstained by lichen or grey moss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save me no living thing in that red land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Showed under heaven; no furtive lizard slipped,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No desert weed pushed upward the tough spine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hairy lump, no slow bird was a spot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of moving black on the deserted air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or stationary shrilled his tuneless cry;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">No shadow stirr’d, nor luminous haze uprose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quivering against the blanched blue of the marge.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sat unbonneted, and my throat baked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my tongue loll’d dogwise. Red sand below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one unlidded eye above—mere God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blazing from marge to marge. I did not pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart was as a cinder in my breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with both hands I held my head which throbbed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, who had sought for God, had followed God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the fair world which stings with sharp desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him of whom its hints and whisperings are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its gleams and tingling moments of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, who in flower, and wave, and mountain-wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And song of bird, and man’s diviner heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had owned the present Deity, yet strove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For naked access to his inmost shrine,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now found God doubtless, for he filled the heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like brass, he breathed upon the air like fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I, a speck ’twixt the strown sand and sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being yet an atom of pure and living will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And perdurable as any God of brass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all my soul, with all my mind and strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hated this God. O, for a little cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No bigger than a man’s hand on the rim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rise with rain and thunder in its womb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blot God out! But no such cloud would come.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I felt my brain on fire, heard each pulse tick;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was a God to make a man stark mad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rose with neck out-thrust, and nodding head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While with dry chaps I could not choose but laugh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ha</i>, <i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>, across the air it rang,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No sweeter than the barking of a dog,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hard as the echo from an iron cliff;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It must have buffeted the heaven; I ceased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I looked to see from the mid sky an arm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one sweep of the scimitar; I stood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the minute passed with no event,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No doomsman’s stroke, no sundering soul and flesh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When silence dropt its heavy fold on fold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And God lay yet inert in heaven, or scorn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His rebel antic-sized, grotesque,—I swooned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now when the sense returned my lips were wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cheeks and chin were wet, with a dank dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Acrid and icy, and one shadow huge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung over me blue-black, while all around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fierce light glared. O joy, a living thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Emperor of this red domain of sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A giant snake! One fold, one massy wreath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arched over me; a man’s expanded arms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could not embrace the girth of this great lord<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his least part, and low upon the sand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His small head lay, wrinkled, a flaccid bag,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set with two jewels of green fire, the eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That had not slept since making of the world.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence grew I bold to gaze into such eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus gazing each conceived the other’s thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aware how each read each; the Serpent mused,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Are all the giants dead, a long time dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born of the broad-hipped women, grave and tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In whom God’s sons poured a celestial seed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A long time dead, whose great deeds filled the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With clamour as of beaten shields, all dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Cush and Canaan, Mizraim and Phut,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the boy Nimrod storming through large lands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like earthquake through tower’d cities, these depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what remains? Behold, the elvish thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We raised from out his swoon, this now is man.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pretty vermin! helpless to conceive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of great, pure, simple sin, and vast revolt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world escapes from deluge these new days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We build no Babels with the Shinar slime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What would this thin-legged grasshopper with us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Dread Ones? Rather let him skip, and chirp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hymns in his smooth grass to his novel God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The Father’; here no bland paternity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He meets, but visible Might blocks the broad sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My great Co-mate, the Ancient. Hence! avoid!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What wouldst thou prying on our solitude?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thee my sly small cousin may suffice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sly small bites about the heart and groin;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hence to his haunt! Yet ere thou dost depart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I mark thee with my sign.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">A vibrant tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had in a moment pricked upon my brow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mystic mark of brotherhood, Cain’s brand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I read within his eyes the words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Hence” and “avoid,” dim horror seized on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rising, with both arms stretched forth, and head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bowed earthward, and not turning once I ran;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what things saw me as I raced by them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hands plucked at my dress, what light wings brushed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My face, what waters in my hearing seethed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not, till I reached familiar lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw grey clouds slow gathering for the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above sweet fields, whence the June mowers strolled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Homewards with girls who chatted down the lane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is this the secret lying round the world?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Dread One watching with unlidded eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow century after century from his heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that great lord, the worm of the red plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold in mid sun, strenuous, untameable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coiling his solitary strength along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow century after century, conscious each<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How in the life of his Arch-enemy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lives, how ruin of one confounds the pair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this the eternal dual mystery?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One Source of being, Light, or Love, or Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose shadow is the brightness of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still let thy dawns and twilights glimmer pure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In flow perpetual from hill to hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still bathe us in thy tides of day and night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wash me at will a weed in thy free wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drenched in the sun and air and surge of Thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MORNING_STAR" id="THE_MORNING_STAR"></a>THE MORNING STAR</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Backward</span> betwixt the gates of steepest heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint from the insupportable advance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of light confederate in the East, is driven<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The starry chivalry, and helm and lance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which held keen ward upon the shadowy plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yield to the stress and stern predominance<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of Day; no wanderer morning-moon awane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Floats through dishevelled clouds, exanimate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In disarray, with gaze of weariest pain;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O thou, sole Splendour, sprung to vindicate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night’s ancient fame, thou in dread strife serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With back-blown locks, joyous yet desperate<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flamest; from whose pure ardour Earth doth win<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High passionate pangs, thou radiant paladin.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Nay</span>; strife must cease in song: far-sent and clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Piercing the silence of this summer morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear thy swan-song rapturous; I hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Life’s ecstasy; sharp cries of flames which burn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With palpitating joy, intense and pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From altars of the universe, and yearn<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In eager spires; and under these the sure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strong ecstasy of Death, in phrase too deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thought, too bright for dim investiture.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Of mortal words, and sinking more than sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down holier places of the soul’s delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cry, through the quickening dawn, to us who creep<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Mid dreams and dews of the dividing night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou searcher of the darkness and the light.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I seek</span> thee, and thou art not; for the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has drawn thee in upon her breast to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hidden talisman, while light soars high,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Virtuous to make wide heaven’s tranquillity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More tranquil, and her steadfast truth more true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea even her overbowed infinity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of tenderness, when o’er wet woods the blue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shows past white edges of a sundering cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More infinitely tender. Day is new,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Night ended; how the hills are overflowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With spaciousness of splendour, and each tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is touched; only not yet the lark is loud,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since viewless still o’er city and plain and sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vibrates thy spirit-wingèd ecstasy.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_CHILDS_NOONDAY_SLEEP" id="A_CHILDS_NOONDAY_SLEEP"></a>A CHILD’S NOONDAY SLEEP</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Because</span> you sleep, my child, with breathing light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As heave of the June sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because your lips soft petals dewy-bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dispart so tenderly;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Because the slumbrous warmth is on your cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up from the hushed heart sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in this midmost noon when winds are weak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No cloud lies more content;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Because nor song of bird, nor lamb’s keen call<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May reach you sunken deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because your lifted arm I thus let fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heavy with perfect sleep;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Because all will is drawn from you, all power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Nature through dark roots<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will hold and nourish you for one sweet hour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid her flowers and fruits;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore though tempests gather, and the gale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through autumn skies will roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though Earth send up to heaven the ancient wail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heard by dead Gods of yore;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though spectral faiths contend, and for her course<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The soul confused must try,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While through the whirl of atoms and of force<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looms an abandoned sky;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, know I, Peace abides, of earth’s wild things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Centre, and ruling thence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold, a spirit folds her budded wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In confident innocence.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_GARDEN" id="IN_THE_GARDEN"></a>IN THE GARDEN</h2> - -<h3>I. THE GARDEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Past</span> the town’s clamour is a garden full<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of loneness and old greenery; at noon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When birds are hushed, save one dim cushat’s croon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A ripen’d silence hangs beneath the cool<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great branches; basking roses dream and drop<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A petal, and dream still; and summer’s boon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mellow grasses, to be levelled soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a dew-drenchèd scythe, will hardly stop<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the uprunning mounds of chestnut trees.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still let me muse in this rich haunt by day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know all night in dusky placidness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It lies beneath the summer, while great ease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broods in the leaves, and every light wind’s stress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifts a faint odour down the verdurous way.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II. VISIONS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Here</span> I am slave of visions. When noon heat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strikes the red walls, and their environ’d air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies steep’d in sun; when not a creature dare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Affront the fervour, from my dim retreat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where woof of leaves embowers a beechen seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With chin on palm, and wide-set eyes I stare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the liquid quiver and the glare,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon fair shapes that move on silent feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those Three strait-robed, and speechless as they pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come often, touch the lute, nor heed me more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than birds or shadows heed; that naked child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is dove-like Psyche slumbering in deep grass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep, sleep,—he heeds thee not, you Sylvan wild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Munching the russet apple to its core.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III. AN INTERIOR</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> grass around my limbs is deep and sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yonder the house has lost its shadow wholly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blinds are dropped, and softly now and slowly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The day flows in and floats; a calm retreat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tempered light where fair things fair things meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White busts and marble Dian make it holy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within a niche hangs Dürer’s Melancholy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brooding; and, should you enter, there will greet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your sense with vague allurement effluence faint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of one magnolia bloom; fair fingers draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the piano Chopin’s heart-complaint;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone, white-robed she sits; a fierce macaw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the verandah, proud of plume and paint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Screams, insolent despot, showing beak and claw.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span></p> - -<h3>IV. THE SINGER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“That was the thrush’s last good-night,” I thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard the soft descent of summer rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the drooped garden leaves; but hush! again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The perfect iterance,—freer than unsought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Odours of violets dim in woodland ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeper than coilèd waters laid a-dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below mossed ledges of a shadowy stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faultless as blown roses in June days.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full-throated singer! art thou thus anew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voiceful to hear how round thyself alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The enrichèd silence drops for thy delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More soft than snow, more sweet than honey-dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now cease: the last faint western streak is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stir not the blissful quiet of the night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V. A SUMMER MOON</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>-moon of this enchanted summer night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One virgin slave companioning thee,—I lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vacant to thy possession as this sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conquered and calmed by thy rejoicing might;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swim down through my heart’s deep, thou dewy bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wanderer of heaven, till thought must faint and die,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am made all thine inseparably,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resolved into the dream of thy delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah no! the place is common for her feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not here, not here,—beyond the amber mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breadths of dusky pine, and shining lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And unstirred lake, and gleaming belts of wheat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She comes upon her Latmos, and has kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sidelong face of blind Endymion.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VI. A PEACH</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> any sense in mortal dust remains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When mine has been refined from flower to flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Won from the sun all colours, drunk the shower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And delicate winy dews, and gained the gains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which elves who sleep in airy bells, a-swing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through half a summer day, for love bestow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in some warm old garden let me grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To such a perfect, lush, ambrosian thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As this. Upon a southward-facing wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bask, and feel my juices dimly fed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mellowing, while my bloom comes golden grey:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keep the wasps from me! but before I fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pluck me, white fingers, and o’er two ripe-red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Girl lips O let me richly swoon away!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span></p> - -<h3>VII. EARLY AUTUMN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> while I sit flatter’d by this warm sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death came to me, and kissed my mouth and brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyelids which the warm light hovers through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I should not count it strange. Being half won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By hours that with a tender sadness run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would not softly lean to lips which woo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the Earth’s grave speech? Nor could it aught undo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Nature’s calm observances begun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still to be here the idle autumn day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale leaves would circle down, and lie unstirr’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er they fell; the tired wind hither call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her gentle fellows; shining beetles stray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up their green courts; and only yon shy bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little bolder grow ere evenfall.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII. LATER AUTUMN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">This</span> is the year’s despair: some wind last night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Utter’d too soon the irrevocable word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the leaves heard it, and the low clouds heard;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So a wan morning dawned of sterile light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers drooped, or showed a startled face and white;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cattle cowered, and one disconsolate bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chirped a weak note; last came this mist and blurred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hills, and fed upon the fields like blight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, why so swift despair! There yet will be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm noons, the honey’d leavings of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hours of rich musing, ripest autumn’s core,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And late-heaped fruit, and falling hedge-berry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blossoms in cottage-crofts, and yet, once more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song, not less than June’s, fervent and clear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="THE_HEROINES" id="THE_HEROINES"></a>THE HEROINES</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="HELENA" id="HELENA"></a>HELENA<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>Tenth year of Troy-Siege</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">She</span> stood upon the wall of windy Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lifted high both arms, and cried aloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With no man near:—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">“Troy-town and glory of Greece<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strive, let the flame aspire, and pride of life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glow to white heat! Great lords be strong, rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lament, know victory, know defeat—then die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair is the living many-coloured play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hates and loves, and fair it is to cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cease from these and all Earth’s comely things.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, Helena, impatient of a couch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim-scented, and dark eyes my face had fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soft captivity of circling arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come forth to shed my spirit on you, a wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sunlight of commingling life and death.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">City and tented plain behold who stands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Betwixt you! Seems she worth a play of swords,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And glad expense of rival hopes and hates?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have the Gods given a prize which may content,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who set your games afoot,—no fictile vase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a sufficient goblet of great gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embossed with heroes, filled with perfumed wine?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">How! doubt ye? Thus I draw the robe aside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bare the breasts of Helen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mortal maiden I beheld, the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tender within her eyes, laying white arms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around her sire’s mailed breast, and heard her chide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because his cheek was blood-splashed,—I beheld<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did not wish me her. O, not for this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A God’s blood thronged within my mother’s veins!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For no such tender purpose rose the swan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ruffled plumes, and hissing in his joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed up the stream, and held with heavy wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leda, and curved the neck to reach her lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stayed, nor left her lightly. It is well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have quickened into glory one supreme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift hour, the century’s fiery-hearted bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which falls,—to stand a splendour paramount,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A beacon of high hearts and fates of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flame blown round by clear, contending winds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which gladden in the contest and wax strong.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cities of Greece, fair islands, and Troy town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Accept a woman’s service; these my hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold not the distaff, ply not at the loom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I store from year to year no well-wrought web<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For daughter’s dowry; wide the web I make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fine-tissued, costly as the Gods desire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shot with a gleaming woof of lives and deaths,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inwrought with colours flowerlike, piteous, strange.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oblivion yields before me: ye winged years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which make escape from darkness, the red light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a wild dawn upon your plumes, I stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mother of the stars and winds of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your eastern Eos; cry across the storm!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through me man’s heart grows wider; little town<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Asleep in silent sunshine and smooth air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While babe grew man beneath your girdling towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wake, wonder, lift the eager head alert,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snake-like, and swift to strike, while altar-flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rises for plighted faith with neighbour town<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That slept upon the mountain-shelf, and showed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A small white temple in the morning sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, ever one way tending you keen prows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which shear the shadowy waves when stars are faint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And break with emulous cries unto the dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I gaze and draw you onward; splendid names<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lurk in you, and high deeds, and unachieved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virtues, and house-o’erwhelming crimes, while life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaps in sharp flame ere all be ashes grey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus have I willed it ever since the hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When that great lord, the one man worshipful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose hands had haled the fierce Hippolyta<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightly from out her throng of martial maids,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would grace his triumph, strengthen his large joy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With splendour of the swan-begotten child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor asked a ten years’ siege to make acquist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all her virgin store. No dream that was,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moonlight in the woods, our singing stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eurotas, the sleek panther at my feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on my heart a hero’s strong right hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O draught of love immortal! Dastard world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too poor for great exchange of soul, too poor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For equal lives made glorious! O too poor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Theseus and for Helena!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Yet now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It yields once more a brightness, if no love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around me flash the tides, and in my ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dangerous melody and piercing-clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing the twin siren-sisters, Death and Life;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rise and gird my spirit for the close.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last night Cassandra cried ‘Ruin, ruin, and ruin!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I mocked her not, nor disbelieved; the gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gathers, and twilight takes the unwary world.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold me, ye Gods, a torch across the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With one long flare blown back o’er tower and town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the last things of Troy complete themselves:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Then blackness, and the grey dust of a heart.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ATALANTA" id="ATALANTA"></a>ATALANTA</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Milanion, seven years ago this day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You overcame me by a golden fraud,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Traitor, and see I crown your cup with flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With violets and white sorrel from dim haunts,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fair libation—ask you to what God?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Artemis, to Artemis my Queen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not by my will did you escape the spear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though piteous I might be for your glad life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Husband, and for your foolish love: the Gods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who heard your vows had care of you: I stooped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half toward the beauty of the shining thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through some blind motion of an instant joy,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As when our babe reached arms to pluck the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A great, round fruit between dark apple-boughs,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And half, marking your wile, to fling away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Needless advantage, conquer carelessly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pass the goal with one light finger-touch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just while you leaned forth the bent body’s length<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To reach it. Could I guess I strove with three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Aphrodite, Eros, and the third—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Milanion? There upon the maple-post<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your right hand rested: the event had sprung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Complete from darkness, and possessed the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet conceived: upon the edge of doom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I stood with foot arrested and blind heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aware of nought save some unmastered fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reddening neck and brow. I heard you cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Judgment, both umpires!’ saw you stand erect,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Panting, and with a face so glad, so great<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">It shone through all my dull bewilderment<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A beautiful uncomprehended joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One perfect thing and bright in a strange world.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I looked to see my father shamed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A-choke with rage and words of proper scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He nodded, and the beard upon his breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pulled twice or thrice, well-pleased, and laughed aloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while the wrinkles gathered round his eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cried ‘Girl, well done! My brother’s son retain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrewd head upon your shoulders! Maidens ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A veil for Atalanta, and a zone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Male fingers may unclasp! Lead home the bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prepare the nuptial chamber!’ At his word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life turned round: too great the shame had grown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all men leagued to mock me. Could I stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Confront the vulgar gladness of the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At high emprise defeated, a free life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tethered, light dimmed, a virtue singular<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Subdued to ways of common use and wont?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must I become the men’s familiar jest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The comment of the matron-guild? I turned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sought the woods, sought silence, solitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green depths divine, where the soft-footed ounce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lurks, and the light deer comes and drinks and goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Familiar paths in which the mind might gain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Footing, and haply from a vantage-ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drive this new fate an arm’s-length, hand’s-breadth off<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little while, till certitude of sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strength returned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">At evening I went back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walked past the idle groups at gossipry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sought you, and laid my hand upon your wrist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drew you apart, and with no shaken voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spoke, while the swift, hard strokes my heart out-beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemed growing audible, ‘Milanion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am your wife for freedom and fair deeds:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Choose: am I such an one a man could love?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What need you? Some soft song to soothe your life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or a clear cry at daybreak?’ And I ceased.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How deemed you that first moment? That the Gods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had changed my heart? That I since morn had grown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haunter of Aphrodite’s golden shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had kneeled before the victress, vowed my vow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Besought her pardon, ‘Aphrodite, grace!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Accept the rueful Atalanta’s gifts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose wreaths and snow-white doves’?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">In the dim woods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is a sacred place, a solitude<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within their solitude, a heart of strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within their strength. The rocks are heaped around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A goblet of great waters ever fed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By one swift stream which flings itself in air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all the madness, mirth and melody<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of twenty rivulets gathered in the hills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where might escapes in gladness. Here the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strike deeper roots into the heart of earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hold more high communion with the heavens;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in the hush of noon the silence broods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More full of vague divinity; the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow-changing and the shadows as they shift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem characters of some inscrutable law,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one who lingers long will almost hope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The secret of the world may be surprised<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere he depart. It is a haunt beloved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Artemis, the echoing rocks have heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her laughter and her lore, and the brown stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed, smitten by the splendour of her limbs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither I came; here turned, and dared confront<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pursuing thoughts; here held my life at gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If ruined at least to clear loose wrack away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Study its lines of bare dismantlement,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shape a strict despair. With fixed hard lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dry-eyed, I set my face against the stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To deal with fate; the play of woven light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleaming and glancing on the rippled flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grew to a tyranny; and one visioned face<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would glide into the circle of my sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would glide and pass away, so glad, so great<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The imminent joy it brought seemed charged with fear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rose, and paced from trunk to trunk, brief track<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This way and that; at least my will maintained<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her law upon my limbs; they needs must turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the appointed limit. A keen cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose from my heart—‘Toils of the world grow strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Yield strength, yield strength to rend them to my hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Be thou apparent, Queen! in dubious ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Lo my feet fail; cry down the forest glade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Pierce with thy voice the tangle and dark boughs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Call, and I follow thee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">What things made up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Memorial for the Presence of the place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thenceforth to hold? Only the torrent’s leap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Endlessly vibrating, monotonous rhythm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the swift footstep pacing to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a soul’s reiterated cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the calm, controlling, ancient trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tutelary ward and watch of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Felt through steep inlets which the upper airs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blew wider.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">On the grass at last I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seized by a peace divine, I know not how;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passive, yet never so possessed of power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong, yet content to feel not use my strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sustained a babe upon the breasts of life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet armed with adult will, a shining spear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O strong deliverance of the larger law<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which strove not with the less! impetuous youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caught up in ampler force of womanhood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Co-operant ardours of joined lives! the calls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heart to heart in chase of strenuous deeds!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virgin and wedded freedom not disjoined,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loyal married service to my Queen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Husband, have lesser gains these seven good years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Been yours because you chose no gracious maid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose hands had woven in the women’s room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many fair garments, while her dreaming heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had prescience of the bridal; one whose claims,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tender exactions feminine, had pleased<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond husband, one whose gentle gifts had pleased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft playful touches, little amorous words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untutored thoughts that widened up toward yours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With trustful homage of uplifted eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweetest sorrows lightly comforted?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have we two challenged each the other’s heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too highly? Have our joys been all too large,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No gleaming gems on finger or on neck<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man may turn and touch caressingly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ampler than this heaven we stand beneath—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide wings of Presences august? Our lives,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it not better they had stood apart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little space, letting the sweet sense grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of distance bridged by love? Had that full calm,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may not question since you call it true,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found in some rightness of a woman’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Been gladder through perturbing touch of doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By brief unrest made exquisitely aware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all its dear possession? Have our eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Met with too calm directness—soul to soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned with the unerroneous long regard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until no stuff remains for dreams to weave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought but unmeasured faithfulness, clear depths<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierced by the sun, and yielding to the eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which searches, yet not fathoms? Did my lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay on your lips too great a pledge of love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With awe too rapturous? Teach me how I fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recount what things your life has missed through me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appease me with new needs; my strength is weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembling toward perfect service.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">In her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears stood and utterance ceased. Wondering the boy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parthenopœus stopped his play and gazed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="EUROPA" id="EUROPA"></a>EUROPA</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“He stood with head erect fronting the herd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the first sight of him I knew the God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And had no fear. The grass is sweet and long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up the east land backed by a pale blue heaven:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grey, shining gravel shelves toward the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which sang and sparkled; between these he stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beautiful, with imperious head, firm foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyes resolved on present victory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which swerved not from the full acquist of joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calmly triumphant. Did I see at all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The creamy hide, deep dewlap, little horns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hear the girls describe them? I beheld<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Zeus, and the law of my completed life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore the ravishment of some great calm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Possessed me, and I could not basely start<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or scream; if there was terror in my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was to see the inevitable bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In prone descent from heaven; apart I lived<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held in some solitude, intense and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even while amid the frolic girls I stooped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And praised the flowers we gathered, they and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pink-streaked convolvulus the warm sand bears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orchids, dark poppies with the crumpled leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reeds and giant rushes from a pond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the blue dragon-fly shimmers and shifts.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these were notes of music, harmonies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fashioned to underlie a resonant song,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which sang how no more days of flower-culling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little Europa must desire; henceforth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The large needs of the world resumed her life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So her least joy must be no trivial thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ordered as the motion of the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or grand incline of sun-flower to the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By this the God was near; my soul waxed strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wider orbed the vision of the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fate drew nigh. He stooped, all gentleness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inviting touches of the tender hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wore the wreaths they twisted round his horns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In lordly-playful wise, me all this while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summoning by great mandates at my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which silenced every less authentic call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away, away, from girlhood, home, sweet friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daily dictates of my mother’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Agenor’s cherishing hand, and all the ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the calm household. I would fain have felt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some ruth to part from these, the tender ties<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Severing with thrills of passion. Can I blame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart for light surrender of things dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hardness of a little selfish soul?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay: the decree of joy was over me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was the altar, I, the sacrifice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foredoomed to life, not death; the victim bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looked for the stroke, the world’s one fact for her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blissful consummation: straight to this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her course had tended from the hour of birth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even till this careless morn of maidenhood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden splendour changed to life’s high noon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this my mother taught me gracious things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My father’s thoughts had dealt with me, for this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The least flower blossomed, the least cloud went by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things conspired for this; the glad event<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summed my full past and held it, as the fruit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds the fair sequence of the bud and flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In soft matureness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Now he bent the knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never doubted of my part to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor lingered idly, since to veil command<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tender invitation pleased my lord;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sat, and round his neck one arm I laid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond all chance secure. Whether my weight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the soft pressure of the encircling arm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quickened in him some unexpected bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not, but his flight was one steep rush.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O uncontrollable and joyous rage!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O splendour of the multitudinous sea!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift foam about my feet, the eager stroke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the strong swimmer, new sea-creatures brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And uproar of blown conch, and shouting lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the open heaven; till Crete rose fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With steadfast shining peak, and promontories.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shed not a leaf, O plane-tree, not a leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let sacred shadow, and slumbrous sound remain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alway, where Zeus looked down upon his bride.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANDROMEDA" id="ANDROMEDA"></a>ANDROMEDA</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“This is my joy—that when my soul had wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her single victory over fate and fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He came, who was deliverance. At the first,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the rough-bearded fellows bruised my wrists<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding them backwards while they drove the bolts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stared around my body, workman-like,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not argue nor bewail; but when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flash and dip of equal oars had passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I was left a thing for sky and sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To encircle, gaze on, wonder at, not save—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clear resolve which I had grasped and held,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slipped as a dew-drop slips from some flower-cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’erweighted, and I longed to cry aloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One sharp, great cry, and scatter the fixed will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fond self-pity. Have you watched night-long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above a face from which the life recedes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seen death set his seal before the dawn?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You do not shriek and clasp the hands, but just<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When morning finds the world once more all good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ready for wave’s leap and swallow’s flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There comes a drift from undiscovered flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A drone of sailing bee, a dance of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the awakened leaves, a touch, a tang,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A nameless nothing, and the world turns round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the full soul runs over, and tears flow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it is seen a piteous thing to die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fared it there with me; the ripple ran<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crisp to my feet; the tufted sea-pink bloomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a cleft rock, I saw the insects drop<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From blossom into blossom; and the wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Intolerable splendour of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm in a liquid hush of summer morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Girdled me, and no cloud relieved the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I had refused to drink the proffered wine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before they bound me, and my strength was less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than needful: yet the cry escaped not, yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My purpose had not fallen abroad in ruin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the perfect knowledge I had won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of things which fate decreed deserted me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The vision I had held of life and death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was blurred by some vague mist of piteousness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor could I lean upon a steadfast will.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore I closed both eyes resolved to search<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Backwards across the abysm, and find Death there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hold him with my hand, and scan his face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By my own choice, and read his strict intent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On lip and brow,—not hunted to his feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cowering slavewise; ‘Death,’ I whispered, ‘Death,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calling him whom I needed: and he came.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wherefore record the travail of the soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through darkness to grey light, the cloudy war,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The austere calm, the bitter victory?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seemed that I had mastered fate, and held,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still with shut eyes, the passion of my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compressed, and cast the election of my will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into that scale made heavy with the woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all the world, and fair relinquished lives.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suddenly the broad sea was vibrated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the air shaken with confused noise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not like the steadfast plash and creak of oars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And higher on my foot the ripple slid.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The monster was abroad beneath the sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This therefore was the moment—could my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sustain her trial? And the soul replied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A swift, sure ‘Yes’: yet must I look forth once,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Confront my anguish, nor drop blindly down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From horror into horror: and I looked—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thou deliverance, thou bright victory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw thee, and was saved! The middle air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was cleft by thy impatience of revenge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy zeal to render freedom to things bound:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The conquest sitting on thy brow, the joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy unerring flight became to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nowise mere hope, but full enfranchisement.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sculptor of the isles has carved the deed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a temple’s frieze; the maiden chained<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifts one free arm across her eyes to hide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The terror of the moment, and her head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sideways averted writhes the slender neck:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While with a careless grace in flying curve,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And glad like Hermes in his aery poise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toward the gaping throat a youth extends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sword held lightly. When to sacrifice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pass at morn with my tall Sthenelos,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smile, but do not speak. No! when my gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First met him I was saved; because the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could hold so brave a creature I was free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here one had come with not my father’s eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which darkened to the clamour of the crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gave a grieved assent; not with the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of anguish-stricken Cassiopeia, dry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And staring as I passed her to the boat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was not the beauty of his strength and youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warrant for many good things in the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which could not be so poor while nourishing him?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What faithlessness of heart could countervail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The witness of that brow? What dastard chains?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did he not testify of sovereign powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’ermatching evil, awful charities<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which save and slay, the terror of clear joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unquenchable intolerance of ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Order subduing chaos, beauty pledged<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To conquest of all foul deformities?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And was there need to turn my head aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, who had one sole thing to do, no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch the deed? I know the careless grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Perseus wears in manage of the steed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or shooting the swift disc: not such the mode<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that victorious moment of descent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the large tranquil might his soul contains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was gathered for a swift abolishment<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of proud brute-tyranny. He seemed in air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shining spear which hisses in its speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smites through boss and breastplate. Did he see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Andromeda, who never glanced at her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But set his face against the evil thing?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not; yet one truth I may not doubt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How ere the wallowing monster blind and vast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned a white belly to the sun, he stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside me with some word of comfort strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nourishing the heart like choral harmonies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O this was then my joy, that I could give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A soul not saved from wretched female fright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or anarchy of self-abandoned will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But one which had achieved deliverance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wrought with shaping hands among the stuff<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which fate presented. Had I shrunk from Death?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might I not therefore unashamed accept—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a calm wonder of unfaltering joy—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life, the fair gift he laid before my feet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somewhat a partner of his deed I seemed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His equal? Nay, yet upright at his side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce lower by a head and helmet’s height<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touching my Perseus’ shoulder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">He has wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great deeds. Athena loves to honour him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I have borne him sons. Look, yonder goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifting the bow, Eleios, the last-born.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EURYDICE" id="EURYDICE"></a>EURYDICE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now must this waste of vain desire have end:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fetter these thoughts which traverse to and fro<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The road which has no issue! We are judged.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O wherefore could I not uphold his heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why claimed I not some partnership with him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the strict test, urging my right of wife?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How have I let him fall? I, knowing thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Orpheus, bounteous giver of rich gifts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not all inured in practice of the will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worthier than I, yet weaker to sustain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An inner certitude against the blank<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silence of the senses; so no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart helps thine, and henceforth there remains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No gift to thee from me, who would give all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the memory of me growing faint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until I seem a thing incredible,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some high, sweet dream, which was not, nor could be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, and in idle fields of asphodel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must it not be that I shall fade indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No memory of me, but myself; these hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ceasing from mastery and use, my thoughts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Losing distinction in the vague, sweet air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart’s swift pulses slackening to the sob<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the forgetful river, with no deed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pre-eminent to dare and to achieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No joy for climbing to, no clear resolve<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From which the soul swerves never, no ill thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rid the world of, till I am no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eurydice, and shouldst thou at thy time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Descend, and hope to find a helpmate here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I were grown slavish, like the girls men buy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft-bodied, foolish-faced, luxurious-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And meet to be another thing than wife.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would that it had been thus: when the song ceased<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughterless Aidoneus lifted up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The face, and turned his grave persistent eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the singer, I had forward stepped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spoken—‘King! he has wrought well, nor failed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who ever heard divine large song like this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keener than sunbeam, wider than the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shapely as the mould of faultless fruit?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now his heart upon the gale of song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soars with wide wing, and he is strong for flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not strong for treading with the careful foot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grant me the naked trial of the will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divested of all colour, scents and song:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deed concerns the wife; I claim my share.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O then because Persephone was by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With shadowed eyes when Orpheus sang of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He would have yielded. And I stepping forth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the clear radiance of the singer’s heights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made calm through vision of his wider truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strengthened by deep beauty to hold fast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The presences of the invisible things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had led the way. I know how in that mood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He leans on me as babe on mother’s breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor could he choose but let his foot descend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where mine left lightest pressure; so are passed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brute three-visaged, and the flowerless ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor have I turned my head; and now behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The greyness of remote terrestrial light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I step swifter. Does he follow still?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O surely since his will embraces mine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Closer than clinging hand can clasp a hand:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No need to turn and dull with visible proof<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The certitude that soul relies on soul!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So speed we to the day; and now we touch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm grass, and drink the Sun. O Earth, O Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not you I need, but Orpheus’ breast, and weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gladdest tears that ever woman shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may be weak awhile, and need to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sustenance and comfort of his arms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Self-foolery of dreams; come bitter truth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet he has sung at least a perfect song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the Gods heard him, and I stood beside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O not applauding, but at last content,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearless for him, and calm through perfect joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing at length his foot upon the heights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of highest song, by me discerned from far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now suddenly attained in confident<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And errorless ascension. Did I ask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lesser joy, lips’ touch and clasping arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or was not this salvation? For I urged<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Always, in jealous service to his art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Now thou hast told their secrets to the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of which they muse through lullèd summer nights;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast gazed downwards in the formless gulf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the brute-mind, and canst control the will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of snake, and brooding panther fiery-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lark in middle heaven: leave these behind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let some careless singer of the fields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set to the shallow sound of cymbal-stroke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Faun a-dance; some less true-tempered soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which cannot shape to harmony august<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The splendour and the tumult of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inflame to frenzy of delirious rage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Mœnad’s breast; yea, and the hearts of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smoke of whose fire upcurls from little roofs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let singers of the wine-cup and the roast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whirling spear, the toy-like chariot-race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bickering counsel of contending kings<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delight them: leave thou these; sing thou for Gods.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou hast sung for Gods; and I have heard.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall not fade beneath this sunless sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mixed in the wandering, ineffectual tribe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For these have known no moment when the soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood vindicated, laying sudden hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On immortality of joy, and love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which sought not, saw not, knew not, could not know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The instruments of sense; I shall not fade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, and thy face detains me evermore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the realm of light. Love, wherefore blame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy heart because it sought me? Could the years’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whole sum of various fashioned happiness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exceed the measure of that eager face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Importunate and pure, still lit with song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turning from song to comfort of my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thirsty for my presence? We are saved!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yield Heracles, thou brawn and thews of Zeus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yield up thy glory on Thessalian ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Competitor of Death in single strife!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lyre methinks outdoes the club and fist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beauty’s ingress the outrageous force<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tyrant though beneficent; supreme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This feat remains, a memory shaped for Gods.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor canst thou wholly lose me from thy life;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still I am with thee; still my hand keeps thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now I restrain from too intemperate grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being a portion of the thoughts that claim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy service; now I urge with that good pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which wastes and feeds the spirit, a desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unending; now I lurk within thy will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As vigour; now am gleaming through the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As beauty; and if greater thoughts must lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their solemn light on thee, outshining mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in some far faint-gleaming hour of Hell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I stand unknown and muffled by the boat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaning an eager ear to catch some speech<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thee, and if some comer tell aloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How Orpheus who had loved Eurydice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was summoned by the Gods to fill with joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clamour of celestial song the courts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bright Olympus,—I, with pang of pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pain dissolved in rapture, will return<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appeased, with sense of conquest stern and high.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But while she spoke, upon a chestnut trunk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fallen from cliffs of Thracian Rhodope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat Orpheus, for he deemed himself alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sang. But bands of wild-eyed women roamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hills, whom he had passed with calm disdain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the shrilling Berecynthian pipe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sounded, blown horn, and frantic female cries:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He ceased from song and looked for the event.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BY_THE_SEA" id="BY_THE_SEA"></a>BY THE SEA</h2> - -<h3>I. THE ASSUMPTION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Why</span> would the open sky not be denied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Possession of me, when I sat to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rock-couched, and round my feet the soft slave lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My singing Sea, dark-bosom’d, dusky-eyed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She breathed low mystery of song, she sighed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stirred herself, and set lithe limbs to play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In blandishing serpent-wreaths, and would betray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An anklet gleaming, or a swaying side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why could she not detain me? Why must I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Devote myself to the dread Heaven, adore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spacious pureness, the large ardour? why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprang forth my heart as though all wanderings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had end? To what last bliss did I upsoar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beating on indefatigable wings?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II. THE ARTIST’S WAITING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Tender</span> impatience quickening, quickening;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O heart within me that art grown a sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How vexed with longing all thy live waves be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How broken with desire! A ceaseless wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er every green sea-ridge goes fluttering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there are cries and long reluctancy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift ardours, and the clash of waters free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fain for the coming of some perfect Thing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Emerge white Wonder, be thou born a Queen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let shine the splendours of thy loveliness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the brow’s radiance to the equal poise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of calm, victorious feet; let thy serene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Command go forth; replenish with strong joys<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spaces and the sea-deeps measureless.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III. COUNSELLORS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Who</span> are chief counsellors of me? Who know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart’s desire and every secret thing?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three of one fellowship: the encompassing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong Sea, who mindful of Earth’s ancient woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still surges on with swift, undaunted flow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That no sad shore should lack his comforting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And next the serene Sky, whether he ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With flawless blue a wilderness, or show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tranced in the Twilight’s arms his fair child-star;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Third of the three, eldest and lordliest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, all whose wings are wide above my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose eyes are clearer heavens, whose lips have said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low words more rare than the quired sea-songs are,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Love, high things and stern thou counsellest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span></p> - -<h3>IV. EVENING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Light</span> ebbs from off the Earth; the fields are strange,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dusk, trackless, tenantless; now the mute sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resigns itself to Night and Memory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no wind will yon sunken clouds derange,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No glory enrapture them; from cot or grange<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rare voice ceases; one long-breathèd sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And steeped in summer sleep the world must lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things are acquiescing in the change.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hush! while the vaulted hollow of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deepens, what voice is this the sea sends forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disconsolate iterance, a passionless moan?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! now the Day is gone, and tyrannous Light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the calm presence of fruit-bearing Earth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cry, Sea! it is thy hour; thou art alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V. JOY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Spring</span>-tides of Pleasure in the blood, keen thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of eager nerves,—but ended as a dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look! the wind quickens, and the long waves gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shoreward, and all this deep noon hour will fill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each lone sea-cave with mirth immeasurable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Huge sport of Ocean’s brood; yet eve’s red sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fades o’er spent waters, weltering sullenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dank piled weed, the sand-waste grey and still.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad Pleasure in the moon’s control! But Joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is stable; is discovered law; the birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dreadful light; life’s one imperative way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rigour hid in song; flowers’ strict employ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which turn to meet their sun; the roll of Earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift and perpetual through the night and day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VI. OCEAN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">More</span> than bare mountains ’neath a naked sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or star-enchanted hollows of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When clouds are riven, or the most sacred light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of summer dawns, art thou a mystery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And awe and terror and delight, O sea!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our Earth is simple-hearted, sad to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the hush of snow, next morning gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because west-winds have promised to the lea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Violets and cuckoo-buds; and sweetly these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live innocent lives, each flower in its green field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joying as children in sun, air, and sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou art terrible, with the unrevealed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burden of dim lamentful prophecies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy lone life is passionate and deep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII. NEWS FOR LONDON</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Whence</span> may I glean a just return, my friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For tidings of your great world hither borne?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What garbs of new opinion men have worn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wot not, nor what fame world-without-end<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprouted last night, nor know I to contend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Irving or the Italian; but forlorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this odd angle of the isle from morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till eve, nor sow, nor reap, nor get, nor spend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet have I heard the sea-gulls scream for glee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Treading the drenched rock-ridges, and the gale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hiss over tremulous heath-bells, while the bee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Driven sidelong quested low; and I have seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The live sea-hollows, and moving mounds grey-green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watched the flying foam-bow flush and fail.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AMONG_THE_ROCKS" id="AMONG_THE_ROCKS"></a>AMONG THE ROCKS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Never</span> can we be strangers, you and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor quite disown our mysteries of kin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grey Sea-rocks, since I sat an hour to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Companion of the Ocean and of you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, sensitive soft flesh a thorn invades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light breath of a rose can win aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flesh fashioned to be hourly tried and thrill’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delighted, tortured, to betray whose ward<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unready heart is ruler, still surprised,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With emissary flushes swift and false,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tremulous to touches of the stars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You, spiny ridges of the land, rude backs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clawless and wingless, half-created things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Monsters at ease before the sun and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untamed, unshrinking, unpersuadable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My kindred.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">For the wide-delivering womb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which casts abroad a mammoth as a man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still conceals the new and better birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bore me and you. Old parents of the Sphinx<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What words primeval murmured in my ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day between the lapping of the waves?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What recognitions flashed and disappeared?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What rare faint touches passed of sympathy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From you to me, from me to you? What sense<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the ancestral things shadowed the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloud-like, and with the pleasure of a cloud.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore I know from henceforth that the shrill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Short crying of the sea-lark when his feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touch where the wave slips off the shining sand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierces you; and the wide and luminous air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Impregnate with sharp sea smells is to you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A passion and allurement; and the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At mid-day loads your sense with drowsy warmth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the waver and echo of your caves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You cherish memories of the billowy chaunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ponder its dim prophecy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">And I,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo here I strike upon the granite too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Something is here austere and obdurate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As you are, something rugged and untamed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A strength behind the will. I am not all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shapely, agile creature named a man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So artful, with the quick-conceiving brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nerve-network, and the hand to grasp and hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most dexterous of kinds that wage the strife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of being through the years. I am not all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This creature with the various heart, alive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To curious joys, rare anguish, skilled in shames,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prides, hatreds, loves, fears, frauds, the heart which turns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden venomous asp, the heart which bleeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The red, great drops of glad self-sacrifice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierce below these and seek the primal layer!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behind Apollo loom the Earth-born Ones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half-god, half-brute; behind this symmetry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This versatility of heart and brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A strength abides, sustaining thought and love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untamed, unshrinking, unpersuadable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At ease before the powers of Earth and Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Equal to any, of no younger years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm as the greatest, haughty as the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of imprescriptible authority.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down upon you I sink, and leave myself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My vain, frail self, and find repose on you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prime Force, whether amassed through myriad years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From dear accretions of dead ancestry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ever welling from the source of things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In undulation vast and unperceived,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down upon you I sink and lose myself!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My child that shouts and races on the sand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your cry restores me. Have I been with Pan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissing the hoofs of his goat-majesty?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You come, no granite of the nether earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright sea-flower rather, shining foam that flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet sweet as blossom of our inland fields.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_YEAR" id="TO_A_YEAR"></a>TO A YEAR</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fly</span>, Year, not backward down blind gulfs of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thick with the swarm of miscreated things:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth, flying year, through calms and broader light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clear-eyed, strong-bosom’d year, on strenuous wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing a song more high-intoned, more holy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the wild Swan’s melodious melancholy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More rapturous than the atom lark outflings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I follow on slow foot and unsubdued:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have I not heard thy cry across the wind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not seen thee, Slayer of the serpent brood,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Error, and doubt, and death, and anguish blind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I follow, I shall know thee by thy plumes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame-tipped, when on that morn of conquered tombs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I praise amidst my years the doom assigned.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_THE_NEW_DAY" id="A_SONG_OF_THE_NEW_DAY"></a>A SONG OF THE NEW DAY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> tender Sorrows of the twilight leave me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shall I want the fanning of smooth wings?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I not miss sweet sorrows? Will it grieve me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hear no cooing from soft dove-like things?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let Evening hear them! O wide Dawn uprisen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know me all thine; and ye, whose level flight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has pierced the drear hours and the cloudy prison,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cry for the pathless spaces and the light!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SWALLOWS" id="SWALLOWS"></a>SWALLOWS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wide</span> fields of air left luminous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though now the uplands comprehend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the sun’s loss is ultimate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silence grows; but still to us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From yon air-winnowing breasts elate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tiny shrieks of glee descend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deft wings, each moment is resigned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some touch of day, some pulse of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While yet in poised, delicious curve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ecstatic doublings down the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light dash and dip and sidelong swerve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You try each dainty trick of flight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will not your airy glee relent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At all? The aimless frolic cease?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know ye no touch of quelling pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor joy’s more strict admonishment,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No tender awe at day-light’s wane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye slaves of delicate caprice?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hush, once again that cry intense!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High-venturing spirits have your will!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Urge the last freak, prolong your glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keen voyagers, while still the immense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sea-spaces haunt your memory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With zests and pangs ineffable.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not in the sunshine of old woods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye won your warrant to be gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By duteous, sweet observances,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who dared through darkening solitudes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’mid the hiss of alien seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The larger ordinance obey.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MEMORIALS_OF_TRAVEL" id="MEMORIALS_OF_TRAVEL"></a>MEMORIALS OF TRAVEL</h2> - -<h3>I. COACHING</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Scotland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Where</span> have I been this perfect summer day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">—Or <i>fortnight</i> is it, since I rose from bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Devour’d that kippered fish, the oatmeal bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mounted to this box? O bowl away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift stagers through the dusk, I will not say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Enough,” nor care where I have been or be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor know one name of hill, or lake, or lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or moor, or glen! Were not the clouds at play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nameless among the hills, and fair as dreams?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On such a day we must love things not words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And memory take or leave them as they are.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On such a day! What unimagined streams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are in the world, how many haunts of birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fields and flowers,—and what an evening Star!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II. IN A MOUNTAIN PASS</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Scotland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To</span> what wild blasts of tyrannous harmony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uprose these rocky walls, mass threatening mass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dusk, shapeless shapes, around a desolate pass?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What deep heart of the ancient hills set free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The passion, the desire, the destiny<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this lost stream? Yon clouds that break and form,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light vanward squadrons of the joyous storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They gather hither from what untrack’d sea?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Primeval kindred! here the mind regains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its vantage ground against the world; here thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wings up the silent waste of air on broad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Undaunted pinion; man’s imperial pains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are ours, and visiting fears, and joy unsought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Native resolve, and partnership with God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III. THE CASTLE</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Scotland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> tenderest ripple touched and touched the shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tenderest light was in the western sky;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its one soft phrase, closing reluctantly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea articulated o’er and o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To comfort all tired things; and one might pore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till mere oblivion took the heart and eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On that slow-fading, amber radiancy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past the long levels of the ocean-floor.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A turn,—the castle fronted me, four-square,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding its seaward crag, abrupt, intense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the west, an apparition bold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of naked human will; I stood aware,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sea and sky, of powers unowned of sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presences awful, vast, and uncontrolled.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span></p> - -<h3>IV. Άισθητιχή φαντασία</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Ireland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> sound is in my ears of mountain streams!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot close my lids but some grey rent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wildered rock, some water’s clear descent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In shattering crystal, pine-trees soft as dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waving perpetually, the sudden gleams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of remote sea, a dear surprise of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some grace or wonder of to-day’s long hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Straightway possesses the moved sense, which teems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With fantasy unbid. O fair, large day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unpractised sense brings heavings from a sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of life too broad, and yet the billows range,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The elusive footing glides. Come, Sleep, allay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trouble with thy heaviest balms, and change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These pulsing visions to still Memory.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V. ON THE SEA-CLIFF</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Ireland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ruins</span> of a church with its miraculous well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which the Christ, a squat-limbed dwarf of stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great-eyed, and huddled on his cross, has known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea-mists and the sunshine, stars that fell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stars that rose, fierce winter’s chronicle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And centuries of dead summers. From his throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fronting the dawn the elf has ruled alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saved this region fair from pagan hell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn! June’s great joy abroad; each bird, flower, stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loves life, loves love; wide ocean amorously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spreads to the sun’s embrace; the dulse-weeds sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glad gulls are afloat. Grey Christ to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our ban on thee! Rise, let the white breasts gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unvanquished Venus of the northern sea!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VI. ASCETIC NATURE</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Ireland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Passion</span> and song, and the adornèd hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of floral loveliness, hopes grown most sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And generous patience in the ripening heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mother’s bosom, a bride’s face of flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Knows Nature aught so fair? Witness ye Powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which rule the virgin heart of this retreat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rarer issues, ye who render meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth, purged and pure, for gracious heavenly dowers!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The luminous pale lake, the pearl-grey sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wave that gravely murmurs meek desires,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The abashed yet lit expectance of the whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—These and their beauty speak of earthly fires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long quenched, clear aims, deliberate sanctity,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the white forehead lo! the aureole.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII. RELICS</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In Switzerland</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">What</span> relic of the dear, dead yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my heart keep? The visionary light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dawn? Alas! it is a thing too bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God does not give such memories away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor choose I one fair flower of those that sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the chill breathing of the waterfall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rocky angles black with scattering spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair though no sunbeam lays its coronal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of light on their pale brows; nor glacier-gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I choose, nor eve’s red glamour; ’twas at noon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resting I found this speedwell, while a stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That knew the immemorial inland croon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang in my ears, and lulled me to a dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of English meadows, and one perfect June.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII. ON THE PIER OF BOULOGNE</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>A Reminiscence of 1870</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A venal</span> singer to a thrumming note<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chanted the civic war-song, that red flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of melody seized in a sudden hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">By frenzied winds of change, and borne afloat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A live light in the storm; and now by rote<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a cold crowd, while vague and sad the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loomed after sunset and the grey gulls cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The verses quavered from a hireling throat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherefore should English eyes their right forbear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or droop for smitten France? let the tossed sou,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before they turn, be quittance for the stare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Lady, who, clear-voiced, with impulse true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lift that cry “<i>To Arms!</i>” alone would dare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart received a golden alms from you!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IX. DOVER</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>In a Field</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A joy</span> has met me on this English ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I looked not for. O gladness, fields still green!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen,—the going of a murmurous sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the corn; there is not to be seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the land a single pilèd sheaf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or line of grain new-fallen, and not a tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has felt as yet within its lightest leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The year’s despair; nay, Summer saves for me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her bright, late flowers. O my Summer-time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Named low as lost, I turn, and find you here—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where else but in our blessed English clime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lingers o’er the sweet days of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Days of long dreaming under spacious skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere melancholy winds of Autumn rise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AN_AUTUMN_SONG" id="AN_AUTUMN_SONG"></a>AN AUTUMN SONG</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="smcap">Long</span> Autumn rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White mists which choke the vale, and blot the sides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the bewildered hills; in all the plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No field agleam where the gold pageant was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silent o’er a tangle of drenched grass<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The blackbird glides.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">In the heart,—fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fire and clear air and cries of water-springs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And large, pure winds; all April’s quick desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All June’s possession; a most fearless Earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drinking great ardours; and the rapturous birth<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of wingèd things.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BURDENS" id="BURDENS"></a>BURDENS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Are</span> sorrows hard to bear,—the ruin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of flowers, the rotting of red fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A love’s decease, a life’s undoing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And summer slain, and song-birds mute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And skies of snow and bitter air?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These things, you deem, are hard to bear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ah, the burden, the delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of dreadful joys! Noon opening wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Golden and great; the gulfs of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair deaths, and rent veils cast aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong soul to strong soul rendered up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silence filling like a cup.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(From “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis Pity she’s a Queen.”—<small>A.D.</small> 1610.)</span></h2> - -<h3>ACT IV. SCENE 2.</h3> - -<p class="chead"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Margaret</span>, <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lucy</span>; <span class="smcap">Lady M.</span> <i>at her embroidery -frame, singing</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Girls</span>, when I am gone away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On this bosom strew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only flowers meek and pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the yew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lay these hands down by my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let my face be bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bind a kerchief round the face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Smooth my hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let my bier be borne at dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Summer grows so sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep into the forest green<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where boughs meet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then pass away, and let me lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One long, warm, sweet day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There alone with face upturn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One sweet day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While the morning light grows broad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While noon sleepeth sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the evening falls and faints,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the world goes round.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq"><i>Susan.</i> Whence had you this song, lady?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq"><i>L. Mar.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Out of the air;</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">From no one an it be not from the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That goes at noonday in the sycamore trees.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—When said the tardy page he would return?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq"><i>Susan.</i> By twelve, upon this very hour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq"><i>L. Mar.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Look now,</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sand falls down the glass with even pace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadows lie like yesterday’s. Nothing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is wrong with the world. You are a part of it,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I stand within a magic circle charm’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From reach of anything, shut in from you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leagues from my needle, and this frame I touch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting till doomsday come—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">[<i>Knocking heard</i>] <span style="margin-left: 2em;">The messenger!</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick, I will wait you here, and hold my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ready for death, or too much ravishment.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">[<i>Exeunt both Girls.</i>]<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the little sand-hill slides and slides; how many<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red grains would drop while a man’s keen knife drawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across one’s heart let the red life out?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq"><i>Susan.</i> [<i>returning</i>] <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Lady!</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq"><i>L. Mar.</i> I know it by your eyes. O do not fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tell all punctually: I am carved of stone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BY_THE_WINDOW" id="BY_THE_WINDOW"></a>BY THE WINDOW</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Still</span> deep into the West I gazed; the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear, spiritual, tranquil as a bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide-winged that soars on the smooth gale and sleeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was it from sun far-set or moon unrisen?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether from moon, or sun, or angel’s face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It held my heart from motion, stayed my blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Betrayed each rising thought to quiet death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the blind charm’d way to nothingness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lull’d the last nerve that ached. It was a sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made for a man to waste his will upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be received as wiser than all toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And much more fair. And what was strife of men?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what was time?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Then came a certain thing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are intimations for the elected soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dubious, obscure, of unauthentic power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since ghostly to the intellectual eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shapeless to thinking? Nay, but are not we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Servile to words and an usurping brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Infidels of our own high mysteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the senses thicken and lose the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the imprisoned soul forgets to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spreads blind fingers forth to reach the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which once drank light, and fed on angels’ food?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It happened swiftly, came and straight was gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">One standing on some aery balcony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And looking down upon a swarming crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees one man beckon to him with finger-tip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While eyes meet eyes; he turns and looks again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The man is lost, and the crowd sways and swarms.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall such an one say “Thus ’tis proved a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no hand beckoned, no eyes met my own?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neither can I say this. There was a hint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thrill, a summons faint yet absolute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which ran across the West; the sky was touch’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And failed not to respond. Does a hand pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightly across your hair? you feel it pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not half so heavy as a cobweb’s weight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although you never stir; so felt the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not unaware of the Presence, so my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce less aware. And if I cannot say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meaning and monition, words are weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which will not paint the small wing of a moth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor bear a subtile odour to the brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And much less serve the soul in her large needs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot tell the meaning, but a change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was wrought in me; it was not the one man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who come to the luminous window to gaze forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And who moved back into the darkened room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With awe upon his heart and tender hope;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From some deep well of life tears rose; the throng<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dusty cares, hopes, pleasures, prides fell off,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from a sacred solitude I gazed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep, deep into the liquid eyes of Life.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SUNSETS" id="SUNSETS"></a>SUNSETS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Did</span> your eyes watch the mystic sunset splendours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through evenings of old summers, slow of parting,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wistful while loveliest gains and fair surrenders<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hallow’d the West,—till tremulous tears came starting?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did your soul wing her way on noiseless pinion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through lucid fields of air, and penetrated<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With light and silence roam the wide dominion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Day and Dusk embrace,—serene, unmated?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And they are past the shining hours and tender,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And snows are fallen between, and winds are driven?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, for I find across your face the splendour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in your wings the central winds of heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They reach me, those lost sunsets. Undivining<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your own high mysteries you pause and ponder;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, in my eyes the vanished light is shining,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feel, through what spaces of clear heaven I wander!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="OASIS" id="OASIS"></a>OASIS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Let</span> them go by—the heats, the doubts, the strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I can sit here and care not for them now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming beside the glimmering wave of life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more,—I know not how.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a murmur in my heart, I hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint, O so faint, some air I used to sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It stirs my sense; and odours dim and dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The meadow-breezes bring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Just this way did the quiet twilights fade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the fields and happy homes of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While one bird sang as now, piercing the shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long since,—I know not when.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FOREIGN_SPEECH" id="FOREIGN_SPEECH"></a>FOREIGN SPEECH</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, do not tell me what they mean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tremulous brook, the scarcely stirred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">June leaves, the hum of things unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This sovran bird.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do they say things so deep, and rare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And perfect? I can only tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they are happy, and can bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such ignorance well;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Feeding on all things said and sung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hour to hour in this high wood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Articulate in a strange, sweet tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not understood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_TWILIGHT" id="IN_THE_TWILIGHT"></a>IN THE TWILIGHT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A noise</span> of swarming thoughts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A muster of dim cares, a foil’d intent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With plots and plans, and counterplans and plots;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus along the city’s edges grey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unmindful of the darkening autumn day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a droop’d head I went.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">My face rose,—through what spell?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not hoping anything from twilight dumb:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One star possessed her heaven. Oh! all grew well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because of thee, and thy serene estate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence ... I let thy beauty make me great;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What though the black night come.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_INNER_LIFE" id="THE_INNER_LIFE"></a>THE INNER LIFE</h2> - -<h3>I. A DISCIPLE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Master</span>, they argued fast concerning Thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proved what Thou art, denied what Thou art not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till brows were on the fret, and eyes grew hot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lip and chin were thrust out eagerly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then through the temple-door I slipped to free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul from secret ache in solitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sought this brook, and by the brookside stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world’s Light, and the Light and Life of me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is enough, O Master, speak no word!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stream speaks, and the endurance of the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outpasses speech: I seek not to discern<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even what smiles for me Thy lips have stirred;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only in Thy hand still let my hand lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the musing soul within me burn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II. THEISTS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Who</span> needs God most? That man whose pulses play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With fullest life-blood; he whose foot dare climb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Joy’s high limit, solitude sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under a sky whose splendour sure must slay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Godless; he who owns the sovereign sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that small inner voice and still, what time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His whole life urges toward one blissful crime,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hell confuses Heaven, and night, the day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is he whose faithfulness of love puts by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time’s anodyne, and that gross palliative,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Stoic pride, and bears all humanly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He whose soul grows one long desire to give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Measureless gifts; ah! let <i>him</i> quickly die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless he lift frail hands to God and live.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III. SEEKING GOD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I said</span> “I will find God,” and forth I went<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seek Him in the clearness of the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But over me stood unendurably<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a pitiless, sapphire firmament<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ringing the world,—blank splendour; yet intent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still to find God, “I will go and seek,” said I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“His way upon the waters,” and drew nigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An ocean marge weed-strewn and foam-besprent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the waves dashed on idle sand and stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And very vacant was the long, blue sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the evening as I sat alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My window open to the vanishing day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear God! I could not choose but kneel and pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it sufficed that I was found of Thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span> </p> - -<h3>IV. DARWINISM IN MORALS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">High</span> instincts, dim previsions, sacred fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"> —Whence issuing? Are they but the brain’s amassed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tradition, shapings of a barbarous past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remoulded ever by the younger years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mixed with fresh clay, and kneaded with new tears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more? The dead chief’s ghost a shadow cast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the roving clan, and thence at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes God, who in the soul His law uprears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this the whole? Has not the Future powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To match the Past,—attractions, pulsings, tides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And voices for purged ears? Is all our light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glow of ancient sunsets and lost hours?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Advance no banners up heaven’s eastern sides?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembles the margin with no portent bright?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V. AWAKENING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">With</span> brain o’erworn, with heart a summer clod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eye so practised in each form around,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all forms mean,—to glance above the ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Irks it, each day of many days we plod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tongue-tied and deaf, along life’s common road.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But suddenly, we know not how, a sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of living streams, an odour, a flower crowned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dew, a lark upspringing from the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we awake. O joy and deep amaze!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the everlasting hills we stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We hear the voices of the morning seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earnest prophesyings in the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While from the open heaven leans forth at gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The encompassing great cloud of witnesses.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span></p> - -<h3>VI. FISHERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">We</span> by no shining Galilean lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have toiled, but long and little fruitfully<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In waves of a more old and bitter sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our nets we cast; large winds, that sleep and wake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the feet of Dawn and Sunset, make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our spiritual inhuman company,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And formless shadows of water rise and flee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night around us till the morning break.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus our lives wear—shall it be ever thus?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some idle day, when least we look for grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall we see stand upon the shore indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The visible Master, and the Lord of us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave our nets, nor question of His creed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Following the Christ within a young man’s face?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII. COMMUNION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lord</span>, I have knelt and tried to pray to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Thy love came upon me like a sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all desire died out; upon the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Thy mere love I lay, each thought in light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dissolving like the sunset clouds, at rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each tremulous wish, and my strength weakness, sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a sick boy with soon o’erwearied feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finds, yielding him unto his mother’s breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To weep for weakness there. I could not pray,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with closed eyes I felt Thy bosom’s love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beating toward mine, and then I would not move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till of itself the joy should pass away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last my heart found voice,—“Take me, O Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And do with me according to Thy word.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII. A SONNET FOR THE TIMES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">What</span>! weeping? Had ye your Christ yesterday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close wound in linen, made your own by tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kisses, and pounds of myrrh, the sepulchre’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mere stone most venerable? And now ye say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“No man hath seen Him, He is borne away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We wot not where.” And so, with many a sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching the linen clothes and napkin lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye choose about the grave’s sad mouth to stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind hearts! Why seek the living amongst the dead?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better than carols for the babe new-born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shining young men’s speech “He is not here;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why question where the feet lay, where the head?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come forth; bright o’er the world breaks Easter morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is arisen, Victor o’er grief and fear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IX. EMMAUSWARD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lord</span> Christ, if Thou art with us and these eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are holden, while we go sadly and say<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">“We hoped it had been He, and now to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the third day, and hope within us dies,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear with us, O our Master, Thou art wise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knowest our foolishness; we do not pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Declare Thyself, since weary grows the way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faith’s new burden hard upon us lies.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, choose Thy time; but ah! whoe’er Thou art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave us not; where have we heard any voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Thine? Our hearts burn in us as we go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stay with us; break our bread; so, for our part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere darkness falls haply we may rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply when day has been far spent may know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>X. A FAREWELL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> movest from us; we shall see Thy face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more. Ah, look below these troubled eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This woman’s heart in us that faints and dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trust not our faltering lips, our sad amaze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glance some time downward from Thy golden place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know how we rejoice. It is meet, is wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High tasks are Thine, surrenders, victories,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Communings pure, mysterious works and ways.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave us: how should we keep Thee in these blown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grey fields, or soil with earth a Master’s feet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor deem us comfortless: have we not known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee once, for ever. Friend, the pain is sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing Thy completeness to have grown complete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy gift it is that we can walk alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span></p> - -<h3>XI. DELIVERANCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I prayed</span> to be delivered, O true God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not from the foes that compass us about,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Them I might combat; not from any doubt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wrings the soul; not from Thy bitter rod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smiting the conscience; not from plagues abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor my strong inward lusts; nor from the rout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of worldly men, the scourge, the spit, the flout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the whole dolorous way the Master trod.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these would rouse the life that lurks within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would save or slay; these things might be defied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or strenuously endured; yea, pressed by sin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul is stung with sudden, visiting gleams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave these, if Thou but scatter, Lord, I cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The counterfeiting shadows and vain dreams.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XII. PARADISE LOST</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O would</span> you read that Hebrew legend true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look deep into the little children’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who walk with naked souls in Paradise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know not shame; who, with miraculous dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To keep the garden ever fair and new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Want not our sobbing rains in their blue skies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the trees God moves, and o’er them rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night in deeper heavens great stars to view.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, how we wept when through the gate we came!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">What boots it to look back? The world is ours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, we will fare, my brothers, boldly forth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let that dread Angel wave the sword of flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forever idly round relinquished bowers—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave Eden there; we will subdue the earth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_RESTING_PLACE" id="THE_RESTING_PLACE"></a>THE RESTING PLACE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">How</span> all things transitory, all things vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desert me! Whither am I sinking slow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the prone wing, to what predestined home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What peace beyond all peace, what ultimate joy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, cease from questioning, care not to know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let bliss dissolve each thought, all function cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fold close the wing, let the soft-flowing light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Permeate, and merely once uplift drooped lids<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mark the world remote, the abandoned shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fretted with much vain pleasure, futile pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far, far.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The deepening peace! a dawn of essences<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awful and incommunicably dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grace opening into grace, joy quenching joy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy waves and billows have gone over me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blissful and calm, and still the dreams drop off,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And true things grow more true, and larger orbs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The strong salvation which has seized my soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stream of the attraction draws me on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toward some centre; all will quickly end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All be attained. The sweetness of repose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this swift motion slay the consciousness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of being, and bind up the will in sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence and light accept my soul—I touch....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it death’s centre or the breast of God?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="NEW_HYMNS_FOR_SOLITUDE" id="NEW_HYMNS_FOR_SOLITUDE"></a>NEW HYMNS FOR SOLITUDE</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I come</span> to Thee not asking aught; I crave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No gift of Thine, no grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet where the suppliants enter let me have<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within Thy courts a place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My hands, my heart contain no offering;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy name I would not bless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lips untouched by altar-fire; I bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only my weariness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These are the children, frequent in Thy home;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grant, Lord, to each his share;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then turn, and merely gaze on me, who come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lay my spirit bare.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Yet</span> one more step—no flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weary soul can bear—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a whiter light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into a hush more rare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take me, I am all Thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine now, not seeking Thee,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hid in the secret shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lost in the shoreless sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grant to the prostrate soul<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prostration new and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make weak the weak, control<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy creature at Thy feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Passive I lie: shine down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pierce through the will with straight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift beams, one after one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Divide, disintegrate,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Free me from self,—resume<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My place, and be Thou there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet also keep me. Come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou Saviour and Thou Slayer!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> remains to say to Thee, O Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am confessed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my lips’ empty crying Thou hast heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My unrest, my rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why wait I any longer? Thou dost stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And therefore, Lord, I would not go away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let me be at Thy feet a little space,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Forget me here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will not touch Thy hand, nor seek Thy face,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only be near,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this hour let Thy nearness feed the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when Thou goest I also will depart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then when Thou seekest Thy way, and I, mine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let the World be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not wide and cold after this cherishing shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Illum’d by Thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, but worth worship, fair, a radiant star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tender and strong as Thy chief angels are.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet bid me not go forth: I cannot now<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Take hold on joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor sing the swift, glad song, nor bind my brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her wise employ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be mine, the silent woman at Thy knee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the low room in little Bethany.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, that sharp thrill through all my frame!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet once more! Withstand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can no longer; in Thy name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I yield me to Thy hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such pangs were in the soul unborn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fear, the joy were such,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When first it felt in that keen morn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dread, creating touch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Maker of man, Thy pressure sure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This grosser stuff must quell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit faints, yet will endure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Subdue, control, compel.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Potter’s finger shaping me....<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Praise, praise! the clay curves up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not for dishonour, though it be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s least adornèd cup.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sins</span> grew a heavy load and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pressed me to the dust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Whither,” I cried, “can this be rolled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere I behold the Just?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now I claim them for my own;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy face I needs must find;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! thus I wrought, yea, I alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not weak, beguiled, or blind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See my full arms, my heaped-up shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An evil load I bring:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, God, art a consuming flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Accept the hateful thing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pronounce the dread condemning word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stand in blessed fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear is Thy cleansing wrath, O Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fire that burns is dear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span></p> - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I found</span> Thee in my heart, O Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As in some secret shrine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knelt, I waited for Thy word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I joyed to name Thee mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I feared to give myself away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To that or this; beside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy altar on my face I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in strong need I cried.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Those hours are past. Thou art not mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And therefore I rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wait within no holy shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I faint not for the voice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Thee we live; and every wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of heaven is Thine; blown free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To west, to east, the God unshrined<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is still discovering me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_CATHEDRAL_CLOSE" id="IN_THE_CATHEDRAL_CLOSE"></a>IN THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">In</span> the Dean’s porch a nest of clay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With five small tenants may be seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Five solemn faces, each as wise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As though its owner were a Dean;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Five downy fledglings in a row,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Packed close, as in the antique pew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The school-girls are whose foreheads clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the <i>Venite</i> shine on you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Day after day the swallows sit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With scarce a stir, with scarce a sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But dreaming and digesting much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They grow thus wise and soft and round.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They watch the Canons come to dine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hear the mullion-bars across,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the fragrant fruit and wine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep talk of rood-screen and reredos.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her hands with field-flowers drench’d, a child<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaps past in wind-blown dress and hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swallows turn their heads askew—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Five judges deem that she is fair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Prelusive touches sound within,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Straightway they recognize the sign,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, blandly nodding, they approve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The minuet of Rubinstein.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They mark the cousins’ schoolboy talk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Male birds flown wide from minster bell),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blink at each broad term of art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Binomial or bicycle.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! downy young ones, soft and warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth such a stillness mask from sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such swiftness? can such peace conceal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Passion and ecstasy of flight?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet somewhere ’mid your Eastern suns,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under a white Greek architrave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At morn, or when the shaft of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lies large upon the Indian wave,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sense of something dear gone-by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will stir, strange longings thrill the heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a small world embowered and close,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of which ye some time were a part.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dew-drench’d flowers, the child’s glad eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your joy unhuman shall control,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in your wings a light and wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall move from the Maestro’s soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FIRST_LOVE" id="FIRST_LOVE"></a>FIRST LOVE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">My</span> long first year of perfect love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My deep new dream of joy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was a little chubby girl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I was a chubby boy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wore a crimson frock, white drawers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A belt, a crown was on it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wore some angel’s kind of dress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And such a tiny bonnet,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old-fashioned, but the soft brown hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would never keep its place;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little maid with violet eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sunshine in her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my child-queen, in those lost days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How sweet was daily living!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How humble and how proud I grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How rich by merely giving!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She went to school, the parlour-maid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slow stepping to her trot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That parlour-maid, ah, did she feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How lofty was her lot!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Across the road I saw her lift<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Queen, and with a sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I envied Raleigh; my new coat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was hung a peg too high.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A hoard of never-given gifts<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cherished,—priceless pelf;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas two whole days ere I devour’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That peppermint myself.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Church I only prayed for her—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“O God bless Lucy Hill;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Child, may His angels keep their arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ever around you still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the hymn came round, with heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That feared some heart’s surprising<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its secret sweet, I climb’d the seat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Mid rustling and uprising;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there against her mother’s arm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sleeping child was leaning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While far away the hymn went on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The music and the meaning.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh I have loved with more of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since then, with more of passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loved with the aching in my love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After our grown-up fashion;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet could I almost be content<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lose here at your feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A year or two, you murmuring elm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To dream a dream so sweet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SECRET_OF_THE_UNIVERSE_AN_ODE" id="THE_SECRET_OF_THE_UNIVERSE_AN_ODE"></a>THE SECRET OF THE UNIVERSE: AN ODE<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>By a Western Spinning Dervish</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I spin</span>, I spin, around, around,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">And close my eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">And let the bile arise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the sacred region of the soul’s Profound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then gaze upon the world; how strange! how new!<br /></span> -<span class="i35">The earth and heaven are one,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">The horizon-line is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky how green! the land how fair and blue!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perplexing items fade from my large view,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thought which vexed me with its false and true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is swallowed up in Intuition; this,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">This is the sole true mode<br /></span> -<span class="i35">Of reaching God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gaining the universal synthesis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which makes All—One; while fools with peering eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dissect, divide, and vainly analyse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So round, and round, and round again!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the whole globe swells within my brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars inside my lids appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The murmur of the spheres I hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throbbing and beating in each ear;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right in my navel I can feel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The centre of the world’s great wheel.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah peace divine, bliss dear and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">No stay, no stop,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">Like any top<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whirling with swiftest speed, I sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O ye devout ones round me coming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen! I think that I am humming;<br /></span> -<span class="i35">No utterance of the servile mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With poor chop-logic rules agreeing<br /></span> -<span class="i35">Here shall ye find,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But inarticulate burr of man’s unsundered being.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, could we but devise some plan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some patent jack by which a man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might hold himself ever in harmony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the great Whole, and spin perpetually,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">As all things spin<br /></span> -<span class="i35">Without, within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Time spins off into Eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Space into the inane Immensity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Finite into God’s Infinity,<br /></span> -<span class="i35">Spin, spin, spin, spin.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BEAU_RIVAGE_HOTEL" id="BEAU_RIVAGE_HOTEL"></a>BEAU RIVAGE HOTEL<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">SATURDAY EVENING</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Below</span> there’s a brumming and strumming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And twiddling and fiddling amain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweeping of muslins and laughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pattering of luminous rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair England, resplendent Columbia,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gaul, Teuton,—how precious a smother!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the happiest is brisk little Polly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To galop with only her brother.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And up to the fourth étage landing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come the violins’ passionate cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the pale femme-de-chambre is sitting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sleep in her beautiful eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_A_JUNE_NIGHT" id="IN_A_JUNE_NIGHT"></a>IN A JUNE NIGHT<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>A Study in the manner of Robert Browning</i>)</span></h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">See</span>, the door opens of this alcove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here we are now in the cool night air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the heat and smother; above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars are a wonder, alive and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is a perfect night,—your hand,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down these steps and we reach the garden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An odorous, dim, enchanted land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the dusk stone-god for only warden.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Was</span> I not right to bring you here?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We might have seen slip the hours within<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till God’s new day in the East were clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And His silence abashed the dancers’ din,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then each have gone away, the pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And longing greatened, not satisfied,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a hand’s slight touch or a glance’s gain,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now we are standing side by side!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Come</span> to the garden’s end,—not so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not by the grass, it would drench your feet;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, here is a path where the trees o’ergrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fireflies flicker; but, my sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lean on me now, for one cannot see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here where the great leaves lie unfurled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To take the whole soul and the mystery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a summer night poured out for the world.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Into</span> the open air once more!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yonder’s the edge of the garden-wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we may sit and talk,—deplore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This half-hour lost from so bright a ball,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or praise my partner with the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the raven hair, or the other one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her flaxen curls, and slow replies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As near asleep in the Tuscan sun.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hush</span>! do you hear on the beach’s cirque<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Just below, though the lake is dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the little ripples do their work,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fall and faint on the pebbled rim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So they say what they want, and then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Break at the marge’s feet and die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is so different with us men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who never can once speak perfectly.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Yet</span> hear me,—trust that they mean indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, so much more than the words will say<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or shall it be ’twixt us two agreed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all we might spend a night and day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In striving to put in a word or thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which were then from ourselves a thing apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall be just believed and quite forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When my heart is felt against your heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, but that will not tell you all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How I am yours not thus alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find how your pulses rise and fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And winning you wholly be your own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But yours to be humble, could you grow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Queen that you are, remote and proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I with only a life to throw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the others’ flowers for your feet were strowed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Well</span>, you have faults too! I can blame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If you choose: this hand is not so white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or round as a little one that came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On my shoulder once or twice to-night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a soft white dove. Envy her now!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And when you talked to that padded thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I passed you leisurely by, your brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was cold, not a flush nor fluttering.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span></p> - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Such</span> foolish talk! while that one star still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dwells o’er the mountain’s margin-line<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the dawn takes all; one may drink one’s fill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of such quiet; there’s a whisper fine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the leaves a-tremble, and now ’tis dumb;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We have lived long years, love, you and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the heart grows faint; your lips, then: come,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It were not so very hard to die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FROM_APRIL_TO_OCTOBER" id="FROM_APRIL_TO_OCTOBER"></a>FROM APRIL TO OCTOBER</h2> - -<h3>I. BEAUTY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> beauty of the world, the loveliness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of woodland pools, which doves have coo’d to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming the noontide through beneath the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven; the radiant blue’s benign caress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When April clouds are rifted; buds that bless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each little nook and bower, where the leaves keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dew and light shadow, and quick lizards peep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sunshine,—these, and the ancient stars no less,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sea’s mystery of dusk and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are but the curious characters that lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Priestess of Beauty, in thy robe of light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, where, divine One, is thy veiled retreat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I may creep to it and clasp thy feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gaze in thy pure face though I should die?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II. TWO INFINITIES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A lonely</span> way, and as I went my eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could not unfasten from the Spring’s sweet things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lush-sprouted grass, and all that climbs and clings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In loose, deep hedges, where the primrose lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her own fairness, buried blooms surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plunderer bee and stop his murmurings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the glad flutter of a finch’s wings<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outstartle small blue-speckled butterflies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blissfully did one speedwell plot beguile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My whole heart long; I loved each separate flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kneeling. I looked up suddenly—Dear God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There stretched the shining plain for many a mile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountains rose with what invincible power!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how the sky was fathomless and broad!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III. THE DAWN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> Dawn,—O silence and wise mystery!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was it a dream, the murmurous room, the glitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tinkling songs, the dance, and that fair sitter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I talk’d æsthetics to so rapturously?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet Heaven, thy silentness and purity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sister-words of blame, not railings bitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With these great quiet leaves, and the light twitter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of small birds wakening in the greenery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one stream stepping quickly on its way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So well it knows the glad work it must do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reclaim a wayward heart scarce answering true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that sweet strain of hours that closes May;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the pale marge quickens with pulsings new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O welcome to thy world thou fair, great day!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV. THE SKYLARK</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">There</span> drops our lark into his secret nest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All is felt silence and the broad blue sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, the incessant rain of melody<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is over; now earth’s quietudes invest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In cool and shadowy limit, that wild breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which trembled forth the sudden ecstasy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till raptures came too swift, and song must die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since midmost deeps of heaven grew manifest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My poet of the garden-walk last night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang in rich leisure, ceased and sang again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of pleasure in green leaves, of odours given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By flowers at dusk, and many a dim delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The finer joy was thine keen-edged with pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soarer! alone with thy own heart and heaven.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V. THE MILL-RACE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Only a mill-race,” said they, and went by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we were wiser, spoke no word, and stayed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was a place to make the heart afraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With so much beauty, lest the after sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When one had drunk its sweetness utterly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should leave the spirit faint; a living shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From beechen branches o’er the water played<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To unweave that spell through which the conquering sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Subdues the sweet will of each summer stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So this ran freshlier through the swaying weeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I gazed until the whole was as a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor should have waked or wondered had I seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some smooth-limbed wood-nymph glance across the green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Naiad lift a head amongst the reeds.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span></p> - -<h3>VI. IN THE WOOD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A place</span> where Una might have fallen asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Assured of quiet dreams, a place to make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad eyes bright with strange tears; a little lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the green heart of a wood; the crystal deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven so wide if there should chance to stray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into that stainless field some thin cloud-flake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When not a breeze the trance of noon dare break,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the middle it must melt away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilies upon the water in their leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stirr’d by faint ripples that go curving on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To little reedy coves; a stream that grieves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the fine grasses and wild flowers around;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we two in a golden silence bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a line read of rich <i>Endymion</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII. THE PAUSE OF EVENING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Nightward</span> on dimmest wing in Twilight’s train<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grey hours floated smoothly, lingeringly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A solemn wonder was the western sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rich with the slow forsaking sunset-stain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Barred by long violet cloud; hillside and plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The feet of Night had touched; a wind’s low sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Told of whole pleasure lapsed,—then rustled by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With soft subsidence in the rippling grain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why in dark dews, unready to depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did Evening pause and ponder, nor perceive<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Star follow star into the central blue?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What secret was the burden of her heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What grave, sweet memory grew she loath to leave?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What finer sense, no morrow may renew?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII. IN JULY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Why</span> do I make no poems? Good my friend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now is there silence through the summer woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In whose green depths and lawny solitudes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light is dreaming; voicings clear ascend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now from no hollow where glad rivulets wend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But murmurings low of inarticulate moods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softer than stir of unfledged cushat broods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breathe, till o’erdrowsed the heavy flower-heads bend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now sleep the crystal and heart-charmèd waves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round white, sunstricken rocks the noontide long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ’mid the coolness of dim lighted caves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sway in a trance of vague deliciousness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I,—I am too deep in joy’s excess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the imperfect impulse of a song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IX. IN SEPTEMBER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Spring</span> scarce had greener fields to show than these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mid September; through the still warm noon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rivulets ripple forth a gladder tune<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than ever in the summer; from the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dusk-green, and murmuring inward melodies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No leaf drops yet; only our evenings swoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In pallid skies more suddenly, and the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finds motionless white mists out on the leas.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear chance it were in some rough wood-god’s lair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A month hence, gazing on the last bright field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sink o’er-drowsed, and dream that wild-flowers blew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around my head and feet silently there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Spring’s glad choir adown the valley pealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And violets trembled in the morning dew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>X. IN THE WINDOW</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A still</span> grey evening: Autumn in the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Autumn on the hills and the sad wold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No congregated towers of pearl and gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the vaporous West, no fiend limned duskily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No angel whose reared trump must soon be loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor mountains which some pale green lake enfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor islands in an ocean glacial-cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardly indeed a noticeable cloud.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here I lingered, all my will asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazing an hour with neither joy nor pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No noonday trance in midsummer more deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wake with a vague yearning in the dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind room, my heart scarce able to restrain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The idle tears that tremble to the brim.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span></p> - -<h3>XI. AN AUTUMN MORNING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O what</span> a morn is this for us who knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The large, blue, summer mornings, heaven let down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the earth for men to drink, the crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of perfect human living, when we grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great-hearted like the Gods! Come, we will strew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White ashes on our hair, nor strive to drown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In faint hymn to the year’s fulfilled renown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sterile grief which is the season’s due.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightly above the vine-rows of rich hills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the brown peasant girls move amid grapes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swallow glances; let him cry for glee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But yon pale mist diffused ’twixt paler shapes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once sovereign trees,—my spirit also fills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And an east-wind comes moaning from the sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SEA_VOICES" id="SEA_VOICES"></a>SEA VOICES</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Was</span> it a lullaby the Sea went singing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About my feet, some old-world monotone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled full of secret memories, and bringing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not hope to sting the heart, but peace alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep and the certitude of sleep to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wiser henceforth than all philosophy?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Truth! did we seek for truth with eye and brain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through days so many and wasted with desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen, the same long gulfing voice again:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tired limbs lie slack as sands are, eyes that tire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close gently, close forever, twilight grey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Receives you, tenderer than the glaring day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c">[<i>He sleeps, and after an interval awakes.</i>]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah</span> terror, ah delight! A sudden cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Anguish, or hope, or triumph. Awake, arise,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winds awake! Is ocean’s lullaby<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This clarion-call? Her kiss, the spray that flies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Salt to the lip and cheek? Her motion light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of nursing breasts, this swift pursuit and flight?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O wild sea-voices! Victory and defeat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ever deathless passion and unrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White wings upon the wind and flying feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Disdain and wrath, a reared and hissing crest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The imperious urge, and last, a whole life spent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In bliss of one supreme abandonment.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ABOARD_THE_SEA-SWALLOW" id="ABOARD_THE_SEA-SWALLOW"></a>ABOARD THE “SEA-SWALLOW”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> gloom of the sea-fronting cliffs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay on the water, violet-dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pennon drooped, the sail fell in,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slowly moved our bark.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A golden day; the summer dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In heaven and on the whispering sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within our hearts the summer dreamed;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hours had ceased to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then rose the girls with bonnets loosed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shining tresses lightly blown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alice and Adela, and sang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A song of Mendelssohn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweet, and sad, and wildly clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through summer air it sinks and swells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild with a measureless desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sad with all farewells.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SEA-SIGHING" id="SEA-SIGHING"></a>SEA-SIGHING</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">This</span> is the burden of the Sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loss, failure, sorrows manifold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet something though the voice sound free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remains untold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listen! that secret sigh again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kept very low, a whole heart’s waste;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What means this inwardness of pain?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This sob repressed?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some ancient sin, some supreme wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some huge attempt God brought to nought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All over while the world was young,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ne’er forgot?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Those lips, which open wide and cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weak as pale flowers or trembling birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are proud, and fixed immutably<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against such words.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Confession from that burdened soul<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No ghostly counsellor may win;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could such as we receive its whole<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Passion and sin?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In this high presence priest or king,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prophet or singer of the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With yon cast sea-weed were a thing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of equal worth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_MOUNTAINS" id="IN_THE_MOUNTAINS"></a>IN THE MOUNTAINS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fatigued</span> of heart, and owning how the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is strong, too strong for will of mine, my steps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the tall pines I led, to reach that spur<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which strikes from off the mountain toward the West.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hoped to lull a fretted heart to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the place of definite thought a sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Possessed me, dim and sweet, of Motherhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The breasts of Nature, warmth, and soothing hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tender, inarticulate nursing-words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow uttered o’er tired eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">But suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rude waking! Suddenly the rocks, the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood up in rangèd power, rigid, erect,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all cried out on me “Away with him!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away! He is not of us, has no part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ours or us! Traitor, away with him!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the birds shrilled it “Traitor,” and the flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stared up at me with small, hard, insolent eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I, who had been weak, was weak no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor shrank at all, but with deliberate step<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved on, and with both hands waved off the throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feared them not, nor sent defiance back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, till the pine-glooms fell away, and goats<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went tinkling and no herd-boy near; glad airs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sunshine in them moved angelical<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the solitary heights; the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held not a cloud from marge to marge; and now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Westward the sun was treading, calm and free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lay upon the grass, and how an hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went past I know not. When again time was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun had fallen, and congregated clouds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A vision of great glories, held the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through them, and beyond, the hyaline<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Led the charm’d spirit through infinite spaces on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think of all the men upon this earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sight was mine alone; it for my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul for it, until all seeing died.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where did I live transfigured? through what times<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven’s great year? What sudden need of me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sacrifice on altar, or for priest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For soldier at the rampart, cup-bearer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At feasts of God, rapt singer in the joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of consonant praise, doom’d rebel for the fires?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—I know not, but somewhere some part I held,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor fail’d when summoned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">When the body took<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its guest once more the clouds were massy-grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The event was ended; yet a certain thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abode with me, which still eludes its name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet lies within my heart like some great word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mage has taught, and he who heard it once<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cannot pronounce, and never may forget.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this I dare record,—when all was past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once again I turned to seek the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moved adown the slippery pine-wood path,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dimness every pine tree bowed to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With duteous service, and the rocks lay couched<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like armèd followers round, and one bird sang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song I chose, and heavy fragrance came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From unseen flowers, and all things were aware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One passed who had been called and consecrate.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_TOP_OF_A_HILL_CALLED_CLEAR" id="THE_TOP_OF_A_HILL_CALLED_CLEAR"></a>“THE TOP OF A HILL CALLED <i>CLEAR</i>”<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>In sight of the Celestial City</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">And</span> all my days led on to this! the days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pallid light, of springs no sun would warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of chilling rain autumnal, which decays<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High woods while veering south the quick wings swarm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The days of hot desire, of broken dreaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mechanic toil, poor pride that was but seeming,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bleeding feet, and sun-smit flowerless ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Below me spreads a sea of tranquil light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No blue cloud thunder-laden, but pure air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shot through and through with sunshine; from this height<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A man might cast himself in joy’s despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And find unhoped, to bear him lest he fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift succouring wings, and hands angelical,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And circling of soft eyes, and foreheads bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under me light, and light is o’er my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And awful heaven and heaven to left and right;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all His worlds this spot unvisited<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God kept, save by the winging of keen light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dread gaze of stars, and morning’s wan<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virginity, for me a living man,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Living, not borne among the enfranchised dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">New life,—not death! No glow the senses cast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the spirit, no pleasure shoots o’er me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its scattering flaw, no words may I hold fast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here, where God’s breath streams inexhaustibly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But conquest stern is mine, a will made sane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s vision wide and calm, a supreme pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An absolute joy; and love the first and last.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_INITIATION" id="THE_INITIATION"></a>THE INITIATION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Under</span> the flaming wings of cherubim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I moved toward that high altar. O, the hour!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the light waxed intenser, and the dim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Low edges of the hills and the grey sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were caught and captur’d by the present Power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My sureties and my witnesses to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the light drew me in. Ah, perfect pain!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, infinite moment of accomplishment!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou terror of pure joy, with neither wane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor waxing, but long silence and sharp air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As womb-forsaking babes breathe. Hush! the event<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let him who wrought Love’s marvellous things declare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I who fear’d not joy, fear grief at all?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I on whose mouth Life laid his sudden lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tremble at Death’s weak kiss, and not recall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sundering from the flesh, the flight from time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The judgments stern, the clear apocalypse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lightnings, and the Presences sublime.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How came I back to earth? I know not how,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor what hands led me, nor what words were said.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now all things are made mine,—joy, sorrow; now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know my purpose deep, and can refrain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I walk among the living not the dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My sight is purged; I love and pity men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="RENUNCIANTS" id="RENUNCIANTS"></a>RENUNCIANTS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seems</span> not our breathing light?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sound not our voices free?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid to Life’s festal bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No gladder guests there be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, stranger, lay aside<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cold prudence! I divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The secret you would hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you conjecture mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You too have temperate eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have put your heart to school,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are proved. I recognize<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A brother of the rule.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I knew it by your lip,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A something when you smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which meant “close scholarship,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A master of the guild.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well, and how good is life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Good to be born, have breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The calms good and the strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Good life, and perfect death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, for the dancers wheel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Join we the pleasant din,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Comrade, it serves to feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sackcloth next the skin.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SPEAKERS_TO_GOD" id="SPEAKERS_TO_GOD"></a>SPEAKERS TO GOD</h2> - -<h3><i>First Speaker</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Eastward</span> I went and Westward, North and South,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wind blew me from deep zone to zone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many strong women did I love; my mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I gave for kisses, rose, and straight was gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I fought with heroes; there was joyous play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of swords; my cities rose in every land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then forth I fared. O God, thou knowest, I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ever within the hollow of thy hand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><i>Second Speaker</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I am</span> borne out to thee upon the wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the land lessens; cry nor speech I hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought but the leaping waters and the brave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pure winds commingling. O the joy, the fear!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone with thee; sky’s rim and ocean’s rim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Touch, overhead the clear immensity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is merely God; no eyes of seraphim<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> Gaze in ... O God, Thou also art the sea!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><i>Third Speaker</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thus</span> it shall be a lifetime,—ne’er to meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A trackless land divides us lone and long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Others, who seek Him, find, run swift to greet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their Friend, approach the bridegroom’s door with song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stand, nor dare affirm I see or hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How should I dream, when strict is my employ?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet if some time, far hence, thou drawest near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall there be any joy like to our joy?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="POESIA" id="POESIA"></a>POESIA<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>To a Painter</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Paint</span> her with robe and girdle laid aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a jewel upon her; you must hide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By sleight of artist from the gazer’s view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No whit of her fair body; calm and true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes must meet our passion, as aware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world is beautiful, and she being fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A part of it. She needs be no more pure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than a dove is, nor could one well endure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More faultlessness than of a sovran rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reserved, yet liberal to each breeze that blows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let her be all revealed, nor therefore less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mystery of unsearchable loveliness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There must be no discoveries to be made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save as a noonday sky with not a shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or floating cloud of Summer to the eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which drinks its light admits discovery.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did common raiment hide her could we know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How hopeless were the rash attempt to throw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sideways the veil which guards her womanhood?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore her sacred vesture must elude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All mortal touch, and let her welcome well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each corner, being still unapproachable.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plant firm on Earth her feet, as though her own<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its harvests were, and, for she would be known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearless not fugitive, interpose no bar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt us and her, Love’s radiant avatar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more to be possessed than sunsets are.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MUSICIANS" id="MUSICIANS"></a>MUSICIANS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I know</span> the harps whereon the Angels play,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While in God’s listening face they gaze intent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are these frail hearts,—yours, mine; and gently they,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaning a warm breast toward the instrument,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And preluding among the tremulous wires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First draw forth dreams of song, unfledged desires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nameless regrets, sweet hopes which will not stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the passionate sense of heavenly things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Possesses the musician, and his lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Part glowing, and the shadow of his wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grows golden, and fire streams from finger-tips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he is mighty, and his heart-throbs thicken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And quick intolerable pulses quicken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How his hand lords it in among the strings!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah the keen crying of the wires! the pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of restless music yearning to out-break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shed its sweetness utterly, the rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of heavenly laughters, threats obscure which shake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit, trampling tumults which dismay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fateful pause, the fiat summoning day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The faultless flower of light which will not wane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How wrought with you the awful lord of song?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What thirst of God hath he appeased? What bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Raised to clear ecstasy? O tender and strong<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The eager melodist who leaned o’er this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live heart of mine, who leans above it now:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stern pure eyes! the ample, radiant brow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pluck boldly, Master, the good strain prolong.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="MISCELLANEOUS_SONNETS" id="MISCELLANEOUS_SONNETS"></a>MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="A_DAY_OF_DEFECTION" id="A_DAY_OF_DEFECTION"></a>A DAY OF DEFECTION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">This</span> day among the days will never stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carven and clear, a shape of fair delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With singing lips, and gaze of innocent might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown’d queenwise, or the lyre within her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And firm feet making conquest of a land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavy with fruitage; nay, from all men’s sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drop far, cold sun, and let remorseful Night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloke the shamed forehead, and the bosom’s brand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could but the hammer rive, the thunder-stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flung forth from heaven on some victorious morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grind it to dust! Slave, must I always see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy beauty soil’d? Must shining days foregone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Admit thee peer, and wondering new-born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-morrow meet thy dull eyes’ infamy?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SONG_AND_SILENCE" id="SONG_AND_SILENCE"></a>SONG AND SILENCE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">While</span> Sorrow sat beside me many a day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I,—with head turned from her, and yet aware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How her eyes’ light was on my brow and hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light which bites and blights our gold to grey,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still sang, and swift winds bore my songs away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of sweet sounds, as of a lute-player<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sees fresh colours, breathes the ripe soft air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hears the cuckoo shout in dells of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being filled with ease and indolent of heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sang I, Sorrow near me: chide me not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Joy, for silence now! Hereafter wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Large song may come, life blossoming in art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From this new fate; but leave me, thou long sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gaze awhile into those perfect eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LOVE-TOKENS" id="LOVE-TOKENS"></a>LOVE-TOKENS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I wear</span> around my forehead evermore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The circlet of your praise, pure gold; and how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I walk forth crown’d, the approving angels know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see how I am meeker than before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being thus proud. For roses my full store,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a cheek where flowers will scantly blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is your lips’ one immortal touch, and lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All shame deserts my blood to the heart’s core.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dare I display love’s choicest gift—this scar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still sanguine-hued? Here ran your sudden brand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheer through the starting flesh, and let abroad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A traitor’s life; your wrathful eyes afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had doom’d him first. Ah, gracious, valiant hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which drew me bleeding to the feet of God!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_DREAM" id="A_DREAM"></a>A DREAM</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I dreamed</span> I went to seek for her whose sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is sunshine to my soul; and in my dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I found her not; then sank the latest beam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of day in the rich west; upswam the Night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sliding dews, and still I searched in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through thickest glooms of garden-alleys quaint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On moonlit lawns, by glimmering lakes where faint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ripples brake and died, and brake again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then said I, “At God’s inner court of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will beg for her;” straightway toward the same<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I went, and lo! upon the altar-stair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She knelt with face uplifted, and soft hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fallen upon shoulders purely gowned in white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on her parted lips I read my name.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MICHELANGELESQUE" id="MICHELANGELESQUE"></a>MICHELANGELESQUE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shaping</span> thy life what if the stubborn stuff<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grudge to inform itself through each dull part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the soul’s high invention, and thy art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem a defeated thing, and earth rebuff<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven’s splendour, choosing darkness,—leave the rough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brute-parts unhewn. Toilest thou for the mart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or for the temple? Does the God see start<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick beauty from the block, it is enough.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit, foiled elsewhere, presses to the mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disparts the lips, lives on the lighted brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fills the wide nostrils, flings the imperious chin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out proudly. Now behold! the lyric youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wrestler stooping in the act to win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pythian Apollo with the vengeful bow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LIFES_GAIN" id="LIFES_GAIN"></a>LIFE’S GAIN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now having gained Life’s gain, how hold it fast?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The harder task! because the world is still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world, and days creep slow, and wear the will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Custom, gendering in the heart’s blind waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brings forth a wingèd mist, which with no haste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upcircling the steep air, and charged with ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blots all our shining heights adorable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaves slain Faith, slain Hope, slain Love the last.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O shallow lore of life! He who hath won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s gain doth hold nought fast, who could hold all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holden himself of strong, immortal Powers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars accept him; for his sake the Sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath sworn in heaven an oath memorial;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around his feet stoop the obsequious Hours.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="COMPENSATION" id="COMPENSATION"></a>COMPENSATION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">You</span> shake your head and talk of evil days:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My friend, I learn’d ere I had told twelve years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That truth of yours,—how irrepressible tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surprise us, and strength fails, and pride betrays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sorrows lurk for us in all the ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of joyous living. But now to front my fears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I set a counter-truth which comes and cheers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our after-life, when, temperate, the heart weighs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Evil with good. Do never smiles surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad lips? Did the glad violets blow last spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In no new haunts? Or are the heavens not fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After drench’d days of June, when all the air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grows fragrant, and the rival thrushes sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until stars gather into twilight skies?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_CHILD_DEAD_AS_SOON_AS_BORN" id="TO_A_CHILD_DEAD_AS_SOON_AS_BORN"></a>TO A CHILD DEAD AS SOON AS BORN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A little</span> wrath was on thy forehead, Boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being thus defeated; the resolvèd will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which death could not subdue, was threatening still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From lip and brow. I know that it was joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No casual misadventure might destroy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have lived, and fought and died. Therefore I kill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pang for thee, unknown; nor count it ill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou hast entered swiftly on employ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Life would plant a warder keen and pure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought to see a little piteous clay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grave had need of, pale from light obscure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of embryo dreams; thy face was as the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smit on by storm. Palms for my child, and bay!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus far thou hast done well, true son: endure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BROTHER_DEATH" id="BROTHER_DEATH"></a>BROTHER DEATH</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> thou would’st have me go with thee, O Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the utmost verge, to the dim place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Practise upon me with no amorous grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fawning lips, and words of delicate breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And curious music thy lute uttereth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor think for me there must be sought-out ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of cloud and terror; have we many days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sojourned together, and is this thy faith?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, be there plainness ’twixt us; come to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even as thou art, O brother of my soul;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold thy hand out and I will place mine there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I trust thy mouth’s inscrutable irony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dare to lay my forehead where the whole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadow lies deep of thy purpureal hair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MAGE" id="THE_MAGE"></a>THE MAGE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> I shall sing my songs the world will hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Which hears not these,—I shall be white with age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My beard on breast great as befits a mage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So skilled; but song is young, and in no drear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tome-crammed, lamp-litten chamber shall mine fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To pine ascetic. Where the woods are deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thick leaves for arras, in a noonday sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of breeze and bloom, gaze, but my art revere!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I will sit, and score rare wisardry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In characters vermilion, azure, gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With bird, starred flower, and peering dragon-fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Limned in the lines; and secrets shall be told<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of greatest Pan, and lives of wood-nymphs shy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blabbed by my goat-foot servitor overbold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WISE_PASSIVENESS" id="WISE_PASSIVENESS"></a>WISE PASSIVENESS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Think</span> you I choose or that or this to sing?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lie as patient as yon wealthy stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming among green fields its summer dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which takes whate’er the gracious hours will bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into its quiet bosom; not a thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too common, since perhaps you see it there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who else had never seen it, though as fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As on the world’s first morn; a fluttering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of idle butterflies; or the deft seeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown from a thistle-head; a silver dove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As faultlessly; or the large, yearning eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of pale Narcissus; or beside the reeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shepherd seeking lilies for his love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And evermore the all-encircling skies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SINGERS_PLEA" id="THE_SINGERS_PLEA"></a>THE SINGER’S PLEA</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Why</span> do I sing? I know not why, my friend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ancient rivers, rivers of renown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A royal largess to the sea roll down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on those liberal highways nations send<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their tributes to the world,—stored corn and wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold-dust, the wealth of pearls, and orient spar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And myrrh, and ivory, and cinnabar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dyes to make a presence-chamber shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the woodlands, where the wild-flowers are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rivulets, they must have their innocent will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who all the summer hours are singing still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds care for them, and sometimes a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And should a tired child rest beside the stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet memories would slide into his dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_TRESPASSER" id="THE_TRESPASSER"></a>THE TRESPASSER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Trespassers will be prosecuted</i>,—so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Announced the inhospitable notice-board;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But silver-clear as any lady’s word<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Come in, in, in, come in</i>, now rich and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now with tumultuous palpitating flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I swear by ring of Canace I heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Sure,” said I, “this is no brown-breasted bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But some fair princess, lost an age ago<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through stepdame’s cursed spell, till the saints brought her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who but myself, the knight foredoomed of grace.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! poor knight, in all that cockney place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You found no magic, save one radiant sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The huge, obstreperous house-keeper’s granddaughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A child with eyes of pure ethereal light.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="RITUALISM" id="RITUALISM"></a>RITUALISM</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">This</span> is high ritual and a holy day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think from Palestrina the wind chooses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That movement in the firs; one sits and muses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In hushed heart-vacancy made meek to pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen! the birds are choristers with gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear voices infantine, and with good will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each acolyte flower has swung his thurible,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Censing to left and right these aisles of May.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For congregation, see! real sheep most clean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I—what am I, worshipper or priest?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At least all these I dare absolve from sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, dare ascend to where the splendours shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of yon steep mountain-altar, and the feast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is holy, God Himself being bread and wine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PROMETHEUS_UNBOUND" id="PROMETHEUS_UNBOUND"></a>PROMETHEUS UNBOUND</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, who lie warming here by your good fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was once Prometheus and elsewhere have lain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, still in dreams they come,—the sudden chain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swooping birds, the silence, the desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of pitying, powerless eyes, the night, and higher<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The keen stars; (if you please I fill again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bowl, Silenus)—; yet ’twas common pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their beaks’ mad rooting; O, but they would tire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one go circling o’er the misty vast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On great, free wings, and one sit, head out-bent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poised for the plunge; then ’twas I crushed the cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Zeus, Zeus, I kiss your feet, and learn at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The baseness of this crude self-government<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Matched with glad impulse and blind liberty.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="KING_MOB" id="KING_MOB"></a>KING MOB</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Dismiss</span>, O sweet King Mob, your foot-lickers!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you held court last night I too was there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To listen, and in truth well nigh despair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’ercame me when I saw your greedy ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink such gross poison. I could weep hot tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think how three drugged words avail to keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A waking people still on the edge of sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lose the world a right good score of years.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love you too, big Anarch, lately born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half beast, yet with a stupid heart of man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And since I love, would God that I could warn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Work out the beast as shortly as you can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till which time oath of mine shall ne’er be sworn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor knee be bent to you, King Caliban.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MODERN_ELIJAH" id="THE_MODERN_ELIJAH"></a>THE MODERN ELIJAH</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">What</span> went ye forth to see? a shaken reed?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye throngers of the Parthenon last night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prophet, yea more than prophet, we agreed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No John a’ Desert with the girdle tight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And locusts and wild honey for his need,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the dreadful day appears in sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Urging one word to make the conscience bleed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But an obese John Smith, “a shining light”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Our chairman felt), “an honour to his creed.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O by the gas, when buns and tea had wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon our hearts, how grew the Future bright,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Press, the Institutes, Advance of Thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And People’s Books, till every mother’s son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can prove there is a God, or there is none.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="DAVID_AND_MICHAL" id="DAVID_AND_MICHAL"></a>DAVID AND MICHAL<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(2 <span class="smcap">Samuel</span> vi. 16)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>But then you don’t mean really what you say</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear this from the sweetest little lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which each pretty word daintily trips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like small birds hopping down a garden way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I had given my soul full scope to play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For once before her in the Orphic style<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caught from three several volumes of Carlyle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And undivulged before this very day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O young men of our earnest school confess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How it is deeply, darkly tragical<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find the feminine souls we would adore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So full of sense, so versed in worldly lore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So deaf to the Eternal Silences,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So unbelieving, so conventional.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WINDLE-STRAWS" id="WINDLE-STRAWS"></a>WINDLE-STRAWS</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> </p> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Under</span> grey clouds some birds will dare to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No wild exultant chants, but soft and low;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under grey clouds the young leaves seek the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lurking violets blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And waves make idle music on the strand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And inland streams have lucky words to say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And children’s voices sound across the land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although the clouds be grey.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Only</span> maidenhood and youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only eyes that are most fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the pureness of a mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the grace of golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet beside her we grow wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we breathe a finer air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Words low-utter’d, simple-sweet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet, nor songs of morning birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor soft whisperings of the wheat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More than such clear-hearted words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make us wait, and love, and listen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stir more mellow heart accords.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only maiden-motions light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only smiles that sweetly go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Girlish laughter pure and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a footfall like the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What in these should make us wise?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What should bid the blossom blow?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Child! on thee God’s angels wait,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis their robes that wave and part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make this summer air elate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh and fragrant, and thou art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a simple child indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One dare cherish to the heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Were</span> life to last for ever, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We might go hand in hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pause and pull the flowers that blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In all the idle land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we might lie in sunny fields<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And while the hours away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With fallings-out and fallings-in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For half a summer day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But since we two must sever, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since some dim hour we part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have no time to give thee much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But quickly take my heart,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">“For ever thine,” and “thine my love,”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Death may come apace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What more of love could life bestow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dearest, than this embrace.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Now</span> drops in the abyss a day of life:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I count my twelve hours’ gain;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tired senses? vain desires? a baffled strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vexed heart and beating brain?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ten pages traversed by a languid eye?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">—Nay, but one moment’s space<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I gazed into the soul of the blue sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rare day! O day of grace!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">She</span> kissed me on the forehead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She spoke not any word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silence flowed between us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I nor spoke nor stirred.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So hopeless for my sake it was,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So full of ruth, so sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My whole heart rose and blessed her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">—Then died before her feet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span></p> - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Nay</span>, more! yet more, for my lips are fain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No cups for a babe; I ask the whole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep draught that a God could hardly drain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">—Wine of your soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pour! for the goblet is great I bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not worthless, rough with youths at strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men that toil and women that sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">—It is all my life.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Look</span> forward with those steadfast eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Pilot of our star!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It sweeps through rains and driving snows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strong Angel, gaze afar!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seest thou a zone of golden air?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hearest thou the March-winds ring?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is thy heart prophetic yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With stirrings of the Spring?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Words</span> for my song like sighing of dim seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Words with no thought in them,—a piping reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An infant’s cry, a moan low-uttered,—these<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are all the words I need.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Others have song for broad-winged winds that pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For stars and sun, for standing men around;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I put my mouth low down into the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And whisper to the ground.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p class="cb"><small>HERE END THE POEMS<br /> -WHICH WERE FIRST<br /> -PUBLISHED IN<br /> -A VOLUME<br /> -IN 1876</small></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span> </p> - -<h2>MISCELLANEOUS<br /> -POEMS OF LATER DATES</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="AT_THE_OAR" id="AT_THE_OAR"></a>AT THE OAR</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I dare</span> not lift a glance to you, yet stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye Gracious Ones, still save me, hovering near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If music live upon mine inward ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know ye lean bright brow to brow, and say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your secret things; if rippling breezes play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cool on my cheeks, it is those robes ye wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wave, and shadowy fragrance of your hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drifted, the fierce noon fervour to allay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fierce fervour, ceaseless stroke, small speed, and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Find grim contentment in the servile mood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But should I gaze in yon untrammelled sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once, or behold your dewy eyes, my blood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would madden, and I should fling with one free cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My body headlong in the whelming flood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DIVINING_ROD" id="THE_DIVINING_ROD"></a>THE DIVINING ROD</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Here</span> some time flowed my springs and sent a cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of joy before them up the shining air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While morn was new, and heaven all blue and bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here dipped the swallow to a tenderer sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er my flowers lean’d some pure mystery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of liquid eyes and golden-glimmering hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For which now, drouth and death, a bright despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shards, choking slag, the world’s dust small and dry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet turn not hence thy faithful foot, O thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Diviner of my buried life; pace round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poising the hazel-wand; believe and wait,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen and lean; ah, listen! even now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stirrings and murmurings of the underground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prelude the flash and outbreak of my fate.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SALOME" id="SALOME"></a>SALOME<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>By Henri Regnault</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fair</span> sword of doom, and bright with martyr blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee Regnault saw not as mine eyes have seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No Judith of the Faubourg, mænad-queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale on her tumbril-throne, when the live flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foams through revolted Paris, unwithstood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is of thy kin. Blossom and bud between,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear-brow’d Salome, with her silk head’s sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lips where a linnet might have pecked for food,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pure curves of neck, and dimpling hand aloft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved like a wave at sunrise. Herod said—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“A boon for maiden freshness! Ask of me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What toy may please, though half my Galilee;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with beseeching eyes, and bird-speech soft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She fluted: “Give me here John Baptist’s head.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WATERSHED" id="WATERSHED"></a>WATERSHED</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Now</span> on life’s crest we breathe the temperate air;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turn either way; the parted paths o’erlook;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear, we shall never bid the Sphinx despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor read in Sibyl’s book.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blue bends o’er us; good are Night and Day;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some blissful influence from the starry Seven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrilled us ere youth took wing; wherefore essay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vain assault on heaven?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And what great Word Life’s singing lips pronounce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what intends the sealing kiss of Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It skills us not; yet we accept, renounce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And draw this tranquil breath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Enough, one thing we know, haply anon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All truths; yet no truths better or more clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than that your hand holds my hand; wherefore on!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The downward pathway, Dear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GUEST" id="THE_GUEST"></a>THE GUEST</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rude</span> is the dwelling, low the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No chamber this where men may feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I strew clean rushes on the floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set wide my window to the East.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can but set my little room<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In order, then gaze forth and wait;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not if the Guest will come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who holds aloft his starry state.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MORITURUS" id="MORITURUS"></a>MORITURUS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lord</span>, when my hour to part is come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the powers of being sink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When eyes are filmed, and lips are dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scarce I hang upon the brink.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grant me but this—in that strange light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or blind amid confused alarms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One moment’s strength to stand upright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cast myself into Thy arms.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ALONE" id="ALONE"></a>ALONE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">This</span> is the shore of God’s lone love, which stirs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And heaves to some majestic tidal law;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bright the illimitable horizons’ awe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s love; yet all my soul cries out for hers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FAME" id="FAME"></a>FAME</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">My</span> arches crumble; that bright dome I flung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heavenward in pride decays; yet all unmoved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One column soars, and, graven in sacred tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Endure the victor words—“This man was loved.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WHERE_WERT_THOU" id="WHERE_WERT_THOU"></a>WHERE WERT THOU?</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Where</span> wert Thou, Master, ’mid that rain of tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When grey the waste before me stretched and wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when with boundless silence ached mine ears?<br /></span> -<span class="i5">“Child, I was at thy side.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where wert Thou when I trod the obscure wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And one lone cry of sorrow was the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drop by heavy drop failed my heart’s blood?<br /></span> -<span class="i5">“Before thee and behind.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where wert Thou when I fell and lay alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faithless and hopeless, yet through one dear smart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not loveless quite, making my empty moan?<br /></span> -<span class="i5">“Son, I was in thy heart.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_WISH" id="A_WISH"></a>A WISH</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Could</span> I roll off two heavy years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lie on me like lead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see you past their cloudy tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor dream that you are dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I would not touch your lips, your hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your breast, that once were mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! not for me in Faith’s despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s sacramental wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Find you I must for only this<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In some new earth or heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bare my sorry heart, and kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your feet and be forgiven.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GIFT" id="THE_GIFT"></a>THE GIFT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now I draw near: alone, apart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stood, nor deemed I should require<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such access, till my musing heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Suddenly kindled to desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No farther from Thee than Thy feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No less a sight than all Thy face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, touch me where the heart doth beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathe where the throbbing brain hath place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yield me the best, the unnamed good,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gift which most shall prove me near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy wine for drink, Thy fruit for food,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy tokens of the nail, the spear!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such cry was mine: I lifted up<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My face from treacherous speech to cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daring to take the bitter cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ah! Thy perfect gift was peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quiet deliverance from all need,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little space of boundless rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live within the Light indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lean upon the Master’s breast.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="RECOVERY" id="RECOVERY"></a>RECOVERY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I joy</span> to know I shall rejoice again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne upward on the good tide of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall mark the cowslip tossed, the fern uncurled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hear the enraptured lark high o’er my pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er green graves; and I shall love the wane<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sea-charm’d sunsets with all winds upfurl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that great gale adown whose stream are whirl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale autumn dreams, dead hopes, and broodings vain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor do I fear that I shall faintlier bless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joy of youth and maid, or the gold hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a wild-hearted child; then, none the less,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Instant within my shrine, no man aware,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feed on a living sorrow’s sacredness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lean my forehead on this altar-stair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IF_IT_MIGHT_BE" id="IF_IT_MIGHT_BE"></a>IF IT MIGHT BE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> it might be, I would not have my leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drop in autumnal stillness one by one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like these pale fluttering waifs that heap sad sheaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through mere inertia trembling, tottering down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Better one roaring day, one wrestling night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dark musician’s fiercer harmony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then abandoned bareness, or the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of strange discovered skies, if it might be.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WINTER_NOONTIDE" id="WINTER_NOONTIDE"></a>WINTER NOONTIDE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I go</span> forth now, but not to fill my lap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With violets and white sorrel of the wood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is a winter noon; and I may hap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon a few dry sticks, and fire is good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A quickening shrewdness edges the fore wind;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some things stand clear in this dismantled hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which deep-leaved June had hidden; earth is kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heaven is wide, and fire shall be my flower.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_POOL" id="THE_POOL"></a>THE POOL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A wood</span> obscure in this man’s haunt of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And midmost in the wood where leaves fall sere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pool unplumbed; no winds these waters move,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gathered as in a vase from year to year.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he has thought that he himself lies drowned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wan-faced where the pale water glimmereth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that the voiceless man who paces round<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The brink, nor sheds a tear now, is his wraith.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DESIRE_TO_GIVE" id="THE_DESIRE_TO_GIVE"></a>THE DESIRE TO GIVE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">They</span> who would comfort guess not the main grief—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not that her hand is never on my hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips upon my brow; the time is brief<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At longest, and I grow inured to bear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All that was ever mine I have and hold;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that I cannot give by day or night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My poor gift which was dear to her of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And poorly given—that loss is infinite.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_BEECH-TREE_IN_WINTER" id="A_BEECH-TREE_IN_WINTER"></a>A BEECH-TREE IN WINTER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Now</span> in the frozen gloom I trace thy girth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broad beech, that with lit leaves upon a day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When heaven was wide and down the meadow May<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved bride-like, touched my forehead in sweet mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blissful secrets told of the deep Earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low in mine ear; wherefore this eve I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hand thus close till stirrings faint bewray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy piteous secrets of the days of dearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence! yet to my heart from thine has passed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divine contentment; it is well with thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still let the stars slide o’er thee whispering fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The might be in thee of the shouldering blast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still let fire-fingered snow thy tiremaid be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still bearing springtime in thy bosom wait.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="JUDGMENT" id="JUDGMENT"></a>JUDGMENT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I stand</span> for judgment; vain the will<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To judge myself, O Lord!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot sunder good from ill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a dividing sword.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How should I know myself aright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who would by Thee be known?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me stand naked in Thy sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy doom shall be my own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slay in me that which would be slain!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy justice be my grace!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If aught survive the joy, the pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still must it seek Thy face.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="DURERS_MELENCHOLIA" id="DURERS_MELENCHOLIA"></a>DÜRER’S “MELENCHOLIA”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> bow of promise, this lost flaring star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Terror and hope are in mid-heaven; but She,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mighty-wing’d crown’d Lady Melancholy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heeds not. O to what vision’d goal afar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does her thought bear those steadfast eyes which are<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A torch in darkness? There nor shore nor sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor ebbing Time vexes Eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where that lone thought outsoars the mortal bar.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tools of the brain—the globe, the cube—no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She deals with; in her hand the compass stays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor those, industrious genius, of her lore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Student and scribe, thou gravest of the fays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Expect this secret to enlarge thy store;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She moves through incommunicable ways.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MILLETS_THE_SOWER" id="MILLETS_THE_SOWER"></a>MILLET’S “THE SOWER”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Son</span> of the Earth, brave flinger of the seed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strider of furrows, copesmate of the morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, stirr’d with quickenings now of day unborn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Approves the mystery of thy fruitful deed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, young in hope and old as man’s first need,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all the hours that laugh, the hours that mourn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold’st to one strenuous faith, by time unworn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure of the miracle—that the clod will breed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark is this upland, pallid still the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And man, rude bondslave of the glebe, goes forth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To labour; serf, yet genius of the soil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great his abettors—a confederacy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mightiest Powers, old laws of heaven and earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foresight and Faith, and ever-during Toil.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AT_MULLION_CORNWALL" id="AT_MULLION_CORNWALL"></a>AT MULLION (CORNWALL)<br /><br /> -<span class="chead"><i>Sunday</i></span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Where</span> the blue dome is infinite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And choral voices of the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chaunt the high lauds, or meek, as now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Intone their ancient litany;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where through his ritual pomp still moves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Sun in robe pontifical,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose only creed is catholic light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose benediction is for all;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I enter with glad face uplift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Asperged on brow and brain and heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am confessed, absolved, illumed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Receive my blessing and depart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_WINNOWER_TO_THE_WINDS" id="THE_WINNOWER_TO_THE_WINDS"></a>THE WINNOWER TO THE WINDS<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>From Joachim de Bellay</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To</span> yon light troop, who fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On wing that hurries by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wide world over,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with soft sibilance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid every shadow dance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the glad cover.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These violets I consign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilies and sops-in-wine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roses, all yours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These roses vermeil-tinctured<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their graces new-uncinctured<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gilly-flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So with your gentle breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow on the plain beneath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through my grange blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What time I swink and strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winnowing my golden grain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In noontide’s glow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="EMERSON" id="EMERSON"></a>EMERSON</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Memnon</span> the Yankee! bare to every star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But silent till one vibrant shaft of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strikes; then a voice thrilling, oracular,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And clear harmonies through the infinite.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SENT_TO_AN_AMERICAN_SHAKESPEARE_SOCIETY" id="SENT_TO_AN_AMERICAN_SHAKESPEARE_SOCIETY"></a>SENT TO AN AMERICAN SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twixt us through gleam and gloom in glorious play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">League-long the leonine billows ramp and roll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The same maturing sun illumes our day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ripens our blood—the sun of Shakespeare’s soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="NOCTURNE" id="NOCTURNE"></a>NOCTURNE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ere</span> sleep upheaves me on one glassy billow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To drift me down the deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lie with easeful head upon my pillow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Letting the minutes creep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Until Time’s pulse is stayed and all earth’s riot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fades in a limit white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While over me curve fragrant wings of quiet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tender and great as Night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I gaze up. Divine, descending slumber<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine access yet forbear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though vow I proffer none, nor blessings number,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor breathe a wordless prayer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Presence is within me and above me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That takes me for its own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Motherhood, a bosom prompt to love me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know it and am known.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So softly I roll back the Spirit’s portals;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O be the entrance wide!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence and light from home of my Immortals<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flow in, a tranquil tide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Calming, assuaging, cleansing, freshening, freeing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It floods each inlet deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now pass thou wave of Light, ebb thought and being!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come thou dark wave of sleep!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_WHIRLIGIG" id="THE_WHIRLIGIG"></a>THE WHIRLIGIG</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Glee</span> at the cottage-doors to-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Small hearts with joy are big;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The merchant chanced to come our way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who vends the whirligig.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You know the marvel-stick of deal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, where the top should taper,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pinned lightly, the ecstatic wheel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flaunting its purple paper.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Raptures a halfpenny each; and see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The liberal-bosomed mother<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faltering; they tug her skirts the three,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Ah, soon will come another!)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Away they start! Swift, swifter fly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The buzzing, whirring chips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O eyes grown great! O gleesome cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From daubed, cherubic lips!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I as companion of my walk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had chosen a soul heroic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(So much I love superior talk)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An Emperor and a Stoic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cowslip tossed; upsoared the lark;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our choice was to recline us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against an elm-bole, I and Mark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aurelius Antoninus.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pale victory lightened on his brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grieved conquest wrung from pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Nature’s course he spake, and how<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Man should sustain, abstain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Physician of the soul, he spake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of simples that allay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blood, and how the nerves that ache<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Freeze under ethic spray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I turned; perhaps his touch of pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moved me, a garb he wore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw those children eager-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Rome’s pale Emperor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“You miss,” I said, “born Nature’s rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her statutes unrepealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You would remove us from the school,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And from the playing-field.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if our griefs be vain, our joys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vainer, all’s in the plan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what are we but gamesome boys?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through these we grow to man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I to my hornbook now give heed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now hear my playmates call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will ‘chase the rolling circles speed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And urge the flying ball.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Joys, pains, hopes, fears,—a mingled heap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grant me, nor Prince nor prig!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I want, sad Emperor, rosy sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leave me my whirligig.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In haste I spoke; such gusty talk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oft wrongs these lips of mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under grey clouds some day I’ll walk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Again with Antonine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PARADISE_LOST_AND_FOUND" id="PARADISE_LOST_AND_FOUND"></a>PARADISE LOST AND FOUND</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Eve</span>, to tell truth, was not deceived;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The snake’s word seemed to tally<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With something she herself conceived,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sick of her happy valley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The place amused her for a bit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Some think ’twas half a day)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then came, alas! a desperate fit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of neurasthenia.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She tired of lions bland and grand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She tired of thornless roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She felt she could no longer stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her Adam’s courtly glozes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His “graceful consort,” “spouse adored,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His amorous-pious lectures;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She found herself supremely bored,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If one may risk conjectures.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Would he but scold for once!” sighed she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“<i>De haut en bas</i> caressings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qualified by astronomy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prove scarce unmingled blessings.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She strolled; fine gentlemen in wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would deftly light and stop her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She looked demure; half-missed her “things,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Half feared ’twas not quite proper.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They asked for Adam, always him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each affable Archangel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor heeded charms of neck or limb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Big with their stale evangel.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They dined; her cookery instinct stirred;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dinner grew a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not berries cold, eternal curd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And everlasting cream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Boon fruit was hers, but tame in sooth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One thought her soul would grapple—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To get her little ivory tooth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep in some wicked apple.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, when that sinuous cavalier<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spired near the tree of evil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woman hasted to draw near;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such luck!—the genuine devil!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Satan, who to man had lied,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Man ever prone to palter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The franker course with woman tried,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Assured she would not falter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He spoke of freedom and its pains,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of passion and its sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sacrifice, and nobler gains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrung from a dark to-morrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He did not shirk the names of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worn heart, a night of tears—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If here the woman caught her breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She dared to face her fears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps he touched on pretty needs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Named frill, flounce, furbelow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps referred to sable weeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dignity in woe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glowed like two rose-leaves both ear-lobes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White grew her lips and set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sly snake picturing small white robes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A roseate bassinet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He smiled; then squarely told the curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Birth-pang, a lord and master;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hung her head—“It might be worse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It seems no huge disaster.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She mused—“A sin’s a sin at most;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s joy outweighs my sentence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What of my man, who now can boast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A virtue so portentous?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Best for him too! Sweat, workman’s groan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And death which makes us even;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I want a sinner of my own,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who finds my breast his heaven.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our General Mother, which is true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This tale, or that old story,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tradition’s <i>fable convenue</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fashioned for Jahveh’s glory?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AFTER_METASTASIO" id="AFTER_METASTASIO"></a>AFTER METASTASIO</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> seeking me she ask “What hap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Befel him? Whither is he fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My friend, my poor unhappy friend?”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then softly answer “He is dead.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet no! May never pang so keen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be hers, and I the giver! Say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If word be spoken, this alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Weeping for you he went his way.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_CORN-CRAKE" id="THE_CORN-CRAKE"></a>THE CORN-CRAKE</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Here</span> let the bliss of summer and her night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be on my heart as wide and pure as heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now while o’er earth the tide of young delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brims to the full, calm’d by the wizard Seven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their high mistress, yon enchanted Moon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The air is faint, yet fresh as primrose buds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dim with weft of honey-colour’d beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bride-robe for the new espousèd June,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who lies white-limbed among her flowers, nor dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such a divine content her being floods.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Awake</span>, awake! The silence hath a voice;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not thine, thou heart of fire, palpitating<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until all griefs change countenance and rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all joys ache o’er-ripe since thou dost sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not thine this voice of the dry meadow-lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Harsh iteration! note untuneable!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which shears the breathing quiet with a blade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of ragged edge! Say, wilt thou ne’er be still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crier in June’s high progress, whose commands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon no heedless drowzed heart are laid?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span></p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Nay</span>, cease not till thy breast disquieted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath won a term of ease; the dewy grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trackless at morn betrays not thy swift tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And through smooth-closing air thy call-notes pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To faint on yon soft-bosom’d pastoral steep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thee bird the Night accepts; and I, through thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reach to embalmèd hearts of summers dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feel round my feet old, inland meadows deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bow o’er flowers that not a leaf have shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor once have heard moan of an alien sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Even</span> while I muse thy halting-place doth shift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now nearer, now more distant—I have seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When April, through her shining hair adrift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gleams a farewell, and elms are fledged with green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voiceful, wandering envoy of the Spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thee, never; though the mower’s scythe hath dashed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy nest aside, but thou hast sped askant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Viewless; then last we lose thee, and thy wing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brushes Nilotic maize and thou dost chaunt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Haply all night to stony ears of Pasht.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span></p> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, now an end to thy inveterate tale!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The silence melts from the mid spheres of heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough! before this peace has time to fail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From out my soul, or yon white cloud has driven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up the moon’s path I turn, and I will rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more with summer in my heart. Farewell!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shut are the wild-rose cups; no moth’s awhirr;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My room will be moon-silvered from the west<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For one more hour; thy note shall be a burr<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To tease out thought and catch the slumbrous spell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_CATHEDRAL" id="IN_THE_CATHEDRAL"></a>IN THE CATHEDRAL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> altar-lights burn low, the incense-fume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sickens: O listen, how the priestly prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Runs as a fenland stream; a dim despair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hails through their chaunt of praise, who here inhume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A clay-cold Faith within its carven tomb.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But come thou forth into the vital air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keen, dark, and pure! grave Night is no betrayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if perchance some faint cold star illume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her brow of mystery, shall we walk forlorn?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An altar of the natural rock may rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere for men who seek; there may be borne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the night-wind authentic prophecies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If not, let this—to breathe sane breath—suffice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till in yon East, mayhap, the dark be worn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE" id="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE"></a>EDGAR ALLAN POE<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>Read at the Centenary Celebration, University of Virginia, 19th Jan. 1909</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seeker</span> for Eldorado, magic land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose gold is beauty fine-spun, amber-clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er what Moon-mountains, down what Valley of fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By what love waters fringed with pallid sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did thy foot falter? Say what airs have fanned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy fervid brow, blown from no terrene sphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What rustling wings, what echoes thrilled thine ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From mighty tombs whose brazen ports expand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeker, who never quite attained, yet caught,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moulded and fashioned, as by strictest law<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rainbow’d moon-mist and the flying gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mortal loveliness, for pity and awe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To us what carven dreams thy hand has brought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreams with the serried logic of a dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="DEUS_ABSCONDITUS" id="DEUS_ABSCONDITUS"></a>DEUS ABSCONDITUS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Since</span> Thou dost clothe Thyself to-day in cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord God in heaven, and no voice low or loud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proclaims Thee,—see, I turn me to the Earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its wisdom and its sorrow and its mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy Earth perchance, but sure my very own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And precious to me grows the clod, the stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voiceless moor’s brooding monotony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A keen star quivering through the sunset dye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young wrinkled beech leaves, saturate with light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The arching wave’s suspended malachite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I turn to men, Thy sons perchance, but sure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My brethren, and no face shall be too poor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To yield me some unquestionable gain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wonder, laughter, loathing, pity, pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some dog-like craving caught in human eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some new-waked spirit’s April ecstasies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These will not fail nor foil me; while I live<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There will be actual truck in take and give,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Thou hast foiled me; therefore undistraught,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cease from seeking what will not be sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sought, will not be found through joy or fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If still Thou claimst me, seek me. I am here.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SUBLIMINAL" id="SUBLIMINAL"></a>SUBLIMINAL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Door</span>, little door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadowed door in the innermost room of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lean and listen, withdrawn from the stir and apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For a word of the wordless love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">And still you hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yourself of me, who are more than myself, within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I wait if perchance a whisper I may win<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From my soul on the other side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">What do I catch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Afloat on the air, for something is said or done?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are there two who speak—my soul and the nameless One?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Little door, could I lift the latch.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Sigh for some want<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Measureless sigh of desire, or a speechless prayer?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rustle of robe of a priest at sacrifice there<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Benediction or far-heard chaunt?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Could we but meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Myself and my hidden self in a still amaze!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the tramp of men comes up, and the roll of drays,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And a woman’s cry from the street!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LOUISA_SHORE" id="LOUISA_SHORE"></a>LOUISA SHORE<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>Author of “Hannibal, a Drama”</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Who</span> dared to pluck the sleeve of Hannibal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hale him from the shades? Who bade the man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indomitable of brain, return to plan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A vast revenge and vowed? Wild clarions call;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dusk faces flame; the turreted brute-wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moves, tramples, overwhelms; van clashes van;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roman, Numidian, Carthaginian;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And griefs are here, unbowed, imperial.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who caught the world’s fierce tides? An English girl.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shy dreamer ’neath fledged elm and apple-bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Livy or Polybius on her knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose dreams were light as dew and pure as pearl,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet poignant-witted; thew’d for thought; girl-groom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sped to her Lord across the Midland Sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FLOWERS_FROM_THE_SOUTH_OF_FRANCE" id="FLOWERS_FROM_THE_SOUTH_OF_FRANCE"></a>FLOWERS FROM THE SOUTH OF FRANCE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thanks</span> spoken under rainy skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tossed by March winds of the North,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faint ere they can find your eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale thanks are mine and poor in worth,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Matched with your gift of dews and light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quick heart-beats of the Southern spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Provençal flowers, pearl-pure, blood-bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which heard the Mid-sea murmuring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listen! a lark in Irish air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A silver spray of ecstasy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O wind of March blow wide and bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This song of home as thanks for me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, but yourself find thanks more meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blossoms like these which drank the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strew in some shadowy alcove-seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lay your violin where they lie;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Leave them; but with the first star rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bring the bow, and poise at rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The enchanted wood. Ah, shrill sweet cries!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A prisoned heart is in its breast.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_HESTER" id="TO_HESTER"></a>TO HESTER<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>At the Piano</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">So</span> ends your fingers’ fine intrigue!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The netted guile! Nor yonder sat he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In pump and frill who made the gigue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your Neapolitan Scarlatti.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The twilight yields you to me; strange!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dainty sprite, a most rare vision!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well, is it not a wise exchange,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Live maid for ghost of dead musician?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet gently let the shadows troop<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To darkness; lightly lie the dust on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Damon and Chloe, hose and hoop,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My bevy of the days Augustan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What led my fancy down the track,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through century-silent, shadowy mazes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps that foolish bric-à-brac<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your pseudo-classic shelf that graces.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or haply something I divined,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While on your face I stayed a dweller,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that fair ancestress—unsigned—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It pleases you to name a Kneller;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still your fingers ran the keys,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through quaint encounter, pretty wrangle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light laughter, interspace of ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fine turn, and softly-severed tangle,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gigue, minuet, rondo, ritornelle—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quaint jars with rose-leaf memories scented,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stored with glad sound, when life went well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere melancholy was invented,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When pleasure ran, a rippling tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Phillida with Phyllis carolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere Werther yet for Lotte sighed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or English maids adored Childe Harold;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere music shook the central heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or soared to spheral heights inhuman,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere Titans stormed the heaven of art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let by the hammer-welder, Schumann.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, well, we sigh beneath the load,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We sing our pain, our pride, our passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Weltschmerz is the modern mode,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But sweet seventeen is still a fashion.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let be a while the Infinite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those chords with tremulous fervour laden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Chopin’s fire and dew unite—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I choose instead one mortal maiden.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let sorrow rave, and sadness fret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all our century’s ailments pester,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am not quite despairful yet—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There, at the keyboard, sits a Hester.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="UNUTTERED" id="UNUTTERED"></a>UNUTTERED</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Song</span> that is pent in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Song that is aching,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er to escape from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleeping or waking,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down aspic! the dust of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown the world over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A century hence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will envenom a lover.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His red lips grow vocal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His great word is new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the world knows my secret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is dreaming of you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IMITATED_FROM_J_SOULARYS_LE_FOSSOYEUR" id="IMITATED_FROM_J_SOULARYS_LE_FOSSOYEUR"></a>IMITATED FROM J. SOULARY’S “LE FOSSOYEUR”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">For</span> every child new-born God brings to birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little grave-digger, deft at his trade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who ’neath his master’s feet still voids the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There where one day the man’s dark plunge is made.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do you know yours? Hideous perhaps is he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You shudder seeing the workman at his task;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such gracious looks commend who waits on me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I yield whole-hearted, nor for quarter ask.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A child rose-white, sweet-lipped, my steps he presses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On to the pit with coaxings and caresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovelier assassin none could choose to have.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rogue, hast thou done? Let’s haste. The hour comes quick,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give with a kiss the last stroke of the pick,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gently lay me in my flowery grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IMITATED_FROM_GOETHES_GANYMEDE" id="IMITATED_FROM_GOETHES_GANYMEDE"></a>IMITATED FROM GOETHE’S “GANYMEDE”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">As</span> with splendour of morning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around me thou flamest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Spring time, my lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a thousand delights and desires;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To my heart comes thronging<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sacred sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy glow everlasting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O infinite beauty!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would I might seize thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In these my arms!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! on thy bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lie sore yearning;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy flowers, thy grasses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Press close to my heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh breeze of the morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy coolest the burning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thirst of my breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love the nightingale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calls to me from the misty valley!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I come, I am coming!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither? Ah, whither?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upward! Upward the urge is!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lower the clouds come drifting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They stoop to the longing of love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me! for me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne in the lap of you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upwards!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embracing, embraced!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upwards, even to the bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thee all-loving, my Father!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WITH_A_COPY_OF_MY_POEMS" id="WITH_A_COPY_OF_MY_POEMS"></a>WITH A COPY OF MY “POEMS”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">My</span> slender, wondering Nautilus,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sunk in the ooze—a thing how frail!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because you choose to have it thus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through wavering waters luminous<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rises once more, sets up the sail;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It trembles to the sun, has fear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of life, that knew no fear of death:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! may kind Ariel, hovering near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Speed the toy onward with his breath!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PROLOGUE_TO_MAURICE_GEROTHWOHLS_VERSION_OF_VIGNYS_CHATTERTON" id="PROLOGUE_TO_MAURICE_GEROTHWOHLS_VERSION_OF_VIGNYS_CHATTERTON"></a>PROLOGUE TO MAURICE GEROTHWOHL’S VERSION OF VIGNY’S “CHATTERTON”<br /><br /> -<span class="chead">(<i>March 1909</i>)</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Not</span> yet to life inured, the Muse’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born to be lord of visions, Chatterton,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A youth, nor yet the master of his dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor, proud, o’erwrought, perplex’d in the extreme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By poetry, his demon, and by love—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Powers of the deep below, the height above—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ringed by a world with dreams and love at strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rejects in fiery spleen the gift of life.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Condemn, but pity!<br /></span> -<span class="i12">In the South, they say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boys in their sportive mood affect a play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brands aglow they fashion in a ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in the ardent cirque a scorpion fling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crouched motionless the creature lies, until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Urged by the fire you see him throb and thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereon the laughter peals! Anon, he’ll shape<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right on the flames his course to make escape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And backward draws o’erpowered. Fresh shouts of glee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next round the circle curving timorously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He seeks impossible exit; now, once more,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quailing, and in the centre as before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He shrinks despairing; lest, he knows his part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turns on himself, grown bold, his poisoned dart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the instant dies. O then at height<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We hear the cries uproarious of delight!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubtless the wretch on mortal crime was bent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubtless the boys were good and innocent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Play not, O world of men, the savage boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make not the poet, quickener of earth’s joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your scorpion! Hardly once a hundred years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compact of spirit and fire and dew, appears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He through whose song the spheral harmonies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vibrate in mortal hearing. Nay, be wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For your own joy, and see he lacks not bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If ye but wreathe the white brows of the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis ye yourselves are disinherited.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_SONG" id="A_SONG"></a>A SONG</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> did such moons upheave?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When were such pure dawns born?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet fly morn into eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fly eve into morn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lily and iris blooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blooms of the orchard close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass—for she comes, she comes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your sovereign, the rose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lark, that is heart of the height,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thrush, that is voice of the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease, it is nearing, the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the nightingale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hasten great noon that glows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night, when the swift stars pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hasten noon of the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night of the nightingale.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DROPS_OF_NECTAR_1789" id="THE_DROPS_OF_NECTAR_1789"></a>THE DROPS OF NECTAR. 1789<br /><br /> -<span class="chead"><i>Imitated from</i> <span class="smcap">Goethe’s “Die Nektartropfen”</span></span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> Minerva, granting graces<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her darling, her Prometheus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought a brimming bowl of nectar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the underworld from heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rejoice his race of mortals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to quicken in their bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all gracious arts the impulse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearing Jupiter should see her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a rapid foot she hastened,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the golden bowl was shaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there fell some slender sprinklings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the verdurous plain below her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whereupon the bees grew busy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the same in eager sucking.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came the butterfly as eager<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some small drop to gather also.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the spider, the unshapely,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither crept and sucked with gusto.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy are they to have tasted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They and other delicate creatures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For they share henceforth with mortals<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art, of all earth’s joys the fairest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AMOR_AS_LANDSCAPE-PAINTER" id="AMOR_AS_LANDSCAPE-PAINTER"></a>AMOR AS LANDSCAPE-PAINTER<br /><br /> -<span class="chead"><i>Imitated from</i> <span class="smcap">Goethe’s “Amor als Landschaftsmaler”</span></span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">On</span> a point of rock I sat one morning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazed with fixèd eyes upon the vapour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a sheet of solid grey outspreading<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did it cover all in plain and mountain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By my side meanwhile a boy had placed him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he spake. “Good friend, how can’st thou calmly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stare upon the void grey sheet before thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou then for painting and for modelling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All desire, it seemeth, lost for ever?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the child I looked, and thought in secret,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Would the little lad then play the Master?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“If thou wouldst be ever sad and idle,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spake the boy, “no thing of skill can follow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look! I’ll paint you straight a little picture,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teach you how to paint a pretty picture.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thereon forth stretched he his forefinger,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which was rosy even as a rose blossom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the ample canvas strained before him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set to work at sketching with his finger.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">There on high a glorious sun he painted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which mine eyes with its effulgence dazzled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fringe of clouds he made it golden.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the clouds he let press forth the sunbeams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the tree-tops delicate, light, he painted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late refreshed and quickened. Over the hillrange<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hill behind hill folded, for a background.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor were waters wanting. There below them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He the river limned, so true to Nature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it seemed to sparkle in the sunbeams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That against its banks it seemed to murmur.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there stood beside the river flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their colours glowed upon the meadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold and an enamel green and purple;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if all were emerald and carbuncle.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pure and clear above he limned the heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the azure mountains far and further,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that I, new-born and all enraptured,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazed on now the painter, now the picture.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I have given thee proof, perhaps,” so spake he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“That this handicraft I’ve comprehended<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the hardest part is yet to follow.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then and with his finger-tip he outlined,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Using utmost care beside the thicket,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the point where from earth’s gleaming surface<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was the sun cast back in all its radiance—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outlined there the loveliest of maidens,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair of form, now clad in richest raiment,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown her hair and ’neath it cheeks the freshest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the cheeks were of the self-same colour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the pretty finger that had drawn them.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O my boy,” I cried, “declare what master<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did receive thee in his school as pupil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That so swiftly and so true to Nature<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou with skill beginn’st and well completest?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But while yet I spake a breeze uprises.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And behold, it sets astir the summits,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curleth every wave upon the river,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Puffs the veil out of the charming maiden.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, what me the astonished, more astonished,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the maiden’s foot is put in motion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She advances, and to the place draws nearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I sit beside the cunning Master.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now when all things, all things are in motion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trees and river, flowers and veil outblowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the slender foot of her the fairest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think you I upon my rock stayed seated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speechless as a rock and as immobile?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_WANDERER2" id="THE_WANDERER2"></a>THE WANDERER<br /><br /> -<span class="chead"><i>Imitated from</i> <span class="smcap">Goethe’s “Der Wanderer”</span></span></h2> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">God</span>’s grace be thine, young woman<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his, the boy who sucks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That breast of thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here let me on the craggy scar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In shade of the great elm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My knapsack fling from me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rest me by thy side.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What business urges thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in the heat of day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along this dusty path?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringest thou some city merchandise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the country round?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou smilest, stranger,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At this my question.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No city merchandise I bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cool now the evening grows,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Show me the rills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence thou dost drink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My good young woman.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here, up the rocky path,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go onward. Through the shrubs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The path runs by the cot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein I dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On to the rills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whence I drink.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Traces of ordering human hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Betwixt the underwood.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These stones <i>thou</i> hast not so disposed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature—thou rich dispensatress.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet further up.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With moss o’erlaid, an architrave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I recognize thee, plastic spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast impressed thy seal upon the stone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Further yet, stranger.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, an inscription whereupon I tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all illegible,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worn out by wayfarers are ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which should show forth your Master’s piety,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto a thousand children’s children.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In wonder, stranger, dost thou gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon these stones?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up yonder round my cot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are many such.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up yonder?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Leftwards directly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On through the underwood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye Muses! and ye Graces!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That is my cottage.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fragments of a temple!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here onwards on one side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rivulet flows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whence I drink.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glowing, then hoverest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above thy sepulchre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Genius! Over thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is tumbled in a heap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy masterpiece,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thou undying one!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wait till I bring the vessel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou mayst drink.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ivy hath clad around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy slender form divine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How do ye upward strive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From out the wreck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twin columns!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, the solitary sister there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How do ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sombre moss upon your sacred heads,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaze in majestic mourning down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon these scattered fragments<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There at your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your kith and kin!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where lie the shadows of the bramble bush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Concealed by wrack and earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the long grass wavers above.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature dost then so hold in price<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy masterpiece’s masterpiece?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou, regardless, shatter thus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sanctuary?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost sow the thistles therein?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How the boy sleeps!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wouldst thou within the cottage rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stranger? Wouldst here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rather than ’neath the open heavens bide?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now it is cool. Here, take the boy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me go draw the water.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep, darling, sleep!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet is thy rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How, bathed in heavenly healthiness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Restful he breathes!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, born above the relics<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a most sacred past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon thee may its spirit rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He whom it environeth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will in the consciousness of power divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each day enjoy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seedling so rich expand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shining spring’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resplendent ornament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In presence of thy fellows shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the flower-sheathe fades and falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May from thy bosom rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The abounding fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ripening, front the sun.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God bless him—and ever still he sleeps.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought have I with this water clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except a piece of bread to offer thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I give</span> thee thanks.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How gloriously all blooms around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And groweth green!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My husband soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Home from the fields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returns. Stay, stay, O man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eat with us thy evening bread.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here do ye dwell?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, between yonder walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cot. My father builded it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of brick, and of the wreckage stones.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here do we dwell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gave me to a husbandman,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in our arms he died—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetheart—and hast thou slept?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How bright he is—and wants to play.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My rogue!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O Nature</span>! everlastingly conceiving.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each one thou bearest for the joy of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All of thy babes thou hast endowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovingly with a heritage—a Name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High on the cornice doth the swallow build,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what an ornament she hides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All unaware.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The caterpillar round the golden bough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spins her a winter quarters for her young.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus dost thou patch in ’twixt the august<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fragments of bygone time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For needs of thine—for thy own needs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hut. O men—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rejoicing over graves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell, thou happy wife.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou wilt not stay?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God keep you safe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bless your boy.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span></p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A happy</span> wayfaring!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where doth the pathway lead me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the mountain there?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To Cuma.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How far is it hence?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Woman</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis three good miles.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Wanderer</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Nature! guide my way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stranger’s travel-track<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which over graves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sacred times foregone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still pursue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me to some covert guide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheltered against the north,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where from noontide’s glare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A poplar grove protects.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when at eve I turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Home to the hut,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made golden with the sun’s last beam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grant that such wife may welcome me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boy upon her arm.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IMITATED_FROM_GOETHES_ALEXIS_AND_DORA" id="IMITATED_FROM_GOETHES_ALEXIS_AND_DORA"></a>IMITATED FROM GOETHE’S “ALEXIS AND DORA”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, without stop or stay the ship still momently presses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On through the foaming deep, further and further from shore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far-traced the furrow is cut by the keel, and in it the dolphins<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bounding follow as though prey were before them in flight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All betokens a fortunate voyage; light-hearted the shipman<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gently handles the sail that takes on it labour for all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forward as pennon and streamer presses the voyager’s spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One alone by the mast stands reverted and sad.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mountains already blue he sees departing, he sees them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sink in the sea, while sinks every joy from his gaze.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Also for thee has vanished the ship that bears thy Alexis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robs thee, O Dora, of friend, robs thee of, ah! the betrothed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, too, gazest in vain after me. Our hearts are still beating<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one another, but ah! on one another no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Single moment wherein I have lived, thou weigh’st in the balance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than all days erewhile coldly squandered by me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, in that moment alone, the last, arose in my bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life unhoped for in thee, come down as a gift from the Gods.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in vain dost thou with thy light make glorious the æther,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy all-illumining day—Phœbus, by me is abhorred.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back on myself I return, and fain would I there in the silence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live o’er again the time when daily to me she appeared.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was it possible beauty to see and never to feel it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did not the heavenly charm work on thy dullness of soul?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blame not thyself, poor heart, so the poet proposes a riddle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Artfully wrought into words oft to the ear of the crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The network of images, lovely and strange, is a joy to the hearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still there lacketh the word affirming the sense of the whole.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it at last disclosed, then every spirit is gladdened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the verse perceives meaning of twofold delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, why so late, O love, dost thou unbind from my forehead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrappings that darkened my eyes—why too late dost unbind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long time the freighted bark delayed for favouring breezes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair at last rose the wind pressing off-shore to the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Idle seasons of youth and idle dreams of the future<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye have departed—for me only remaineth the hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, it remains the gladness remaining for me; Dora, I hold thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope to my gaze presents, Dora, thy image alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often on thy way to the temple I saw thee gay-decked and decorous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stepped the good mother beside, all ceremonious and grave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick-footed wert thou and eager, bearing thy fruit to the market,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quitting the well, thy head how daringly balanced the jar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, lo! thy throat was shown, thy neck more fair than all others,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than others were shown the poise and play of thy limbs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ofttime I held me in fear for the totter and crash of the pitcher,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet upright ever it stood, there where the kerchief was pleached.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairest neighbour, yes, my wont it was to behold thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As we behold the stars, as we contemplate the moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In them rejoicing, while never once in the tranquil bosom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even in shadow of thought stirs the desire to possess.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus did ye pass, my years. But twenty paces asunder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our dwellings, thine and mine, nor once on thy threshold I trod.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the hideous deep divides us! Ye lie to the heavens,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Billows! your lordly blue to me is the colour of night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Already was everything in motion. A boy came running<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift to my father’s house, calling me down to the shore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The sail is already hoisted; it flaps in the wind,” so spake he.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Weighed with a lusty cheer the anchor parts from the sand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, Alexis! O come!” And gravely, in token of blessing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laid my good father his hand on the clustering curls of the son.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Careful the mother reached me a bundle newly made ready;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Come back happy!” they cried. “Come back happy and rich.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So out of doors, the bundle under my arm, did I fling me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at the wall below, there by the garden gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw thee stand; thou smiledst upon me and spake’st. “Alexis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yonder clamouring folk, are these thy comrades aboard?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Distant shores thou visitest now and merchandise precious<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost deal in, and jewels for the wealthy city dames.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt thou not bring me also one little light chain? I would buy it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thankfully. I have wished so oft to adorn me with this.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding my own I stood and asked, in the way of a merchant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First of the form, the weight exact, of the order thou gavest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Modest in truth was the price thou assignedst. While gazing upon thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neck and shoulders I saw worthy the jewels of our queen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Louder sounded the cry from the ship. Then saidest thou kindly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Some of the garden fruit take thou with thee on thy way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take the ripest oranges—take white figs. The sea yields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never a fruit at all. Nor doth every country give fruits.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thereon I stepped within; the fruit thou busily broughtest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in the gathered robe bearing a burden all gold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often I pleaded, “see this is enough,” and ever another<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fairer fruit down dropped, lightly touched, to thy hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then at the last to the bower thou camest. There was a basket,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the myrtle in bloom bent over thee, over me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skilfully didst thou begin to arrange the fruit and in silence.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First the orange, that lies heavy a globe of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the tenderer fig, which slightest pressure will injure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with myrtle o’erlaid, fair adorned was the gift.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I lifted it not. I stood, we looked one another<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full in the eyes. When straight the sight of my eyes waxed dim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy bosom I felt on my own! and now my arm encircled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stately neck, whereon thousandfold kisses I showered.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sank thy head on my shoulder—by tender arms enfolded<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with a chain was he the man whom thou hast made blest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hands of Love I felt, he drew us with might together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thrice from a cloudless sky it thundered; and now there flowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears from my eyes, down streaming, weeping wert thou. I wept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through sorrow and joy the world seemed to pass from our sense.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever more urgent their shoreward cry; but thither to bear me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My feet refused: I cried, “Dora, and art thou not mine?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“For ever,” thou gently saidst. And thereon it seemed that our tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As by some breath divine, gently were blown from our eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer the cry “Alexis!” Then peered the boy, as he sought me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In through the garden gate. How the basket he eyed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">How he constrained me. How I pressed thee once more by the hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How arrived I aboard? I know as one drunken I seemed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even so my companions took me to be; they bore with one ailing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And already in haze of distance the city grew dim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“For ever,” Dora, thy whisper was. In my ear it echoes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even with the thunder of Zeus. There stood she by his throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, his daughter, the Goddess of Love, and beside her the Graces.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So by the Gods confirmed this our union abides.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O then haste thee, our bark, with the favouring winds behind thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Labour, thou lusty keel, sunder the foaming flood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring me to that strange haven; that so for me may the goldsmith<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his workshop anon fashion the heavenly pledge.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, in truth, the chainlet shall grow to a chain, O Dora.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nine times loosely wound shall it encircle thy neck.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Further, jewels most manifold will I procure for thee; golden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bracelets also. My gifts richly shall deck thy hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There shall the ruby contend with the emerald; loveliest sapphire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Matched against jacinth shall stand, while with a setting of gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every gem may be held in a perfect union of beauty.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O what joy for the lover to grace with jewel and gold the beloved.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If pearls I view, my thought is of thee; there rises before me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With every ring the shape slender and fair of thy hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will barter and buy, and out of them all the fairest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt choose. I devote all my lading to thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not jewel and gem alone shall thy lover procure thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What a housewife would choose, that will he bring with him too.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coverlets delicate, woollen and purple, hemmed to make ready<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A couch that grateful and soft fondly shall welcome the pair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lengths of the finest linen. Thou sittest and sewest and clothest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me therein and thyself, and haply also a third.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Visions of hope delude my heart. Allay, O Divine Ones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flames of resistless desire wildly at work in my breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I fain would recall delights that are bitter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When care to me draws near, hideous, cold and unmoved.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not the Erinnyes torch nor the baying of hounds infernal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strikes such terror in him, the culprit in realms of despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As that phantom unmoved in me who shows me the fair one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far away. Open stands even now the garden gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And another, not I, draws near—for him fruits are falling,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for him, too, the fig strengthening honey retains.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him too doth she draw to the bower. Does he follow? O sightless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make me, O Gods! destroy the vision of memory in me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes—a maiden is she—she who gives herself straight to one lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She to another who woes as speedily turns her around.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laugh not, O Zeus, this time, at an oath audaciously broken—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thunder more fiercely! strike! yet hold back thy lightning shaft.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Send on my trace the sagging clouds. In gloom as of night-time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let thy bright lightning-flash strike this ill-fated mast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scatter the planks around and give to the raging waters<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This my merchandise. Give me to the dolphins a prey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now ye Muses enough! In vain is your effort to image<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How in a heart that loves alternate sorrow and joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor are ye able to heal those wounds which Love has inflicted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet their assuagement comes, Gracious Ones, only from you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Editor’s Note.</span>—The four Goethe translations with which this volume -closes are taken from rough jottings, hardly more than -<i>protoplasm</i>.</p> - -<p>They much need re-handling, which they cannot now receive. Many -lines are, as verse, defective for the ear ... yet some contain -sufficient beauty, as well as fidelity, in translation to justify, -perhaps, their preservation as fragments of unfinished work.</p> - -<p>This does not apply to the other translations which were left by E. -D. in fair MS. as completed.</p></div> - -<p class="cov"><small>COLSTONS LIMITED, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH</small></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Edward Dowden - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 55086-h.htm or 55086-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/8/55086/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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