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diff --git a/old/56074-0.txt b/old/56074-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9c65c8f..0000000 --- a/old/56074-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2427 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Pan-Worship and Other Poems, by Eleanor Farjeon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Pan-Worship and Other Poems - -Author: Eleanor Farjeon - -Release Date: November 28, 2017 [EBook #56074] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAN-WORSHIP AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, MWS and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - PAN-WORSHIP - AND OTHER POEMS - - - - - PAN-WORSHIP - AND OTHER POEMS - - BY - ELEANOR FARJEON - - LONDON - ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET, W. - 1908 - - - - - TO MY FATHER - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE. - - Pan-Worship 9 - - Vagrant Songs 13 - - King Laurin's Garden 18 - - The Mysterious Forest 21 - - The Old Grey Queen 22 - - The Quest 24 - - The Unspoken Word 26 - - In the Oculist's Anteroom 33 - - Little Dream-Brother 34 - - Faust and Margaret 36 - - Dream-Ships 37 - - The Moral 38 - - Colour-Tones 40 - - From an old Garden 42 - - A Sheaf of Nature-Songs 59 - - Apollo in Pherae 72 - - - - -PAN-WORSHIP - - - In Arcady there lies a crystal spring - Ring'd all about with green melodious reeds - Swaying seal'd music up and down the wind. - Here on its time-defacèd pedestal - The image of a half-forgotten God - Crumbles to its complete oblivion. - The faithful and invariable earth - Tilts at the shrine her sacrificial cup, - Spilling libations from the brim that runs - The golden nectar of her daffodils - And rivulets of summer-breathing flow'rs. - O evanescent temples built of man - To deities he honoured and dethroned! - Earth shoots a trail of her eternal vine - To crown the head that men have ceased to honour. - Beneath the coronal of leaf and lichen - The mocking smile upon the lips derides - Pan's lost dominion; but the pointed ears - Are keen and prick'd with old remember'd sounds. - All my breast aches with longing for the past! - Thou God of stone, I have a craving in me - For knowledge of thee as thou wert in old - Enchanted twilights in Arcadia. - Arcadia! it is the very music - Of the first spring-tide rippling its first wave - Over the naked, laughing baby world ... - Come again, thou sparkling spring-tide, come again, - Rush in and flood this autumn from my soul! - These waters welling at a dead God's shrine, - These happy waters bubbling limpid kisses, - Even with such bright and eager lips made wet - The hem of the earth's garment in the days - When earth was youthful and the Gods of Greece - In starry constellation crowned Olympus. - What drifting mists have veil'd the Olympian fires? - What of the Gods of Greece? and what of Greece? - O virgin Greece, standing with naked feet - In the morning dews of the world against the light - Of an infant dawn! old Greece, ever-young Greece, - The pagan in my blood, the instinct in me - That yearns back, back to nature-worship, cries - Aloud to thee! I would stoop to kiss those feet, - Sweet white wet feet washed with the earth's first dews:— - And leaning ear to grass I would re-catch - Echoes of footsteps sounding down dim ages - For ever the music once they made on thee: - The flaming step of the young Apollo when, - With limbs like light and golden locks toss'd back - On a smooth ivory shoulder, he avenged - His mother's wrongs on Python: the dreaming step - Of Hylas in the woods of Mysia - Leading to sleep beneath sweet sylvan waters: - The laughing step of untrammell'd Atalanta - Spurning the ground before her golden capture: - Child-Proserpina stepping like a flower, - And the singing step of Syrinx fleeing—what? - If thou couldst speak, neglected, sneering stone, - Thou wouldst know how to answer me. Wilt thou - Not speak?... How still it is!... The noise of the world - Is shut about with silence!... If I kneel, - Bend and adore, make sacrifice to thee, - If to thy long-deserted fane I bring - Tribute of milk and honey—then if I snap - That loveliest pipe of all at the spring's margin - And let the song of Syrinx from its hollow, - Nay, even the nymph's sweet self—O Pan, old Pan, - Shall I not see thee stirring in the stone, - Crack thy confinement, leap forth—_be_ again? - I can believe it, master of bright streams, - Lord of green woodlands, king of sun-spread plains - And star-splashed hills and valleys drenched in moonlight! - And I shall see again a dance of Dryads - And airy shapes of Oreads circling free - To shy sweet pipings of fantastic fauns - And lustier-breathing satyrs ... God of Nature, - Thrice hailing thee by name with boisterous lungs - I will thrill thee back from the dead ages, thus: - _Pan! Pan! O Pan! bring back thy reign again - Upon the earth!_... - Numb pointed ears, ye hear - Only the wash and whisper of far waters, - The pale green waters of thin distant Springs - Under the pale green light of distant moons - Washing upon the shores of the old, old world - With a foam of flowers, a foam of whispering flowers.... - - - - -VAGRANT SONGS - - -I - - But yesterday the winds of March - Bent back the barren branches of the larch ... - But O! to-day - The bareness from the earth is swept away. - - Deep through my swelling breast I hear - The wild call of the gipsy time o' year— - O, Vagrant Spring, - Brother o' mine, I'm for the gipsying! - - The greening earth I stand upon - Tingles my feet: Brother, we must begone! - Younger and younger, - All my heart cries aloud with Wander-Hunger - - -II - - Of troubles know I none, - Of pleasures know I many— - I rove beneath the sun - Without a single penny. - - A king might envy long - The fare my board adorning— - Upon a throstle's song - I broke my fast this morning; - - My lunch, a girl's quick smile, - As I'm a living sinner; - She walked with me a mile ... - I kissed her for my dinner. - - Of troubles know I none, - Of pleasures know I many— - I fare beneath the sun - Without a single penny! - - -III - - O, how she laughs with me, - Eats with me, quaffs with me, - Smiles to me, sighs to me, - Questions, replies to me, - Answers my every mood, - Finds good what I find good, - Earth, the green Mother! - Where shall man live and die - Having my treasury - Which never gold could buy— - Water and air and sky - And Earth's great sympathy— - Save he do live as I? - Join with me, Brother! - - If you be sickening - Here's for your quickening! - Here at the heart of it - You shall be part of it, - And the good smell of rain - Shall make you whole again— - Join with me, Brother! - Here the life-sap runs green, - Here the life-ways are clean, - Here just one bird that sings - Re-starts your sluggish springs, - Here under moon and sun - You, I and She are one, - Earth, the green Mother! - - -IV - - I lay me on the ground - Under the dark, - And Heaven's purple arc - Drew its deep curtains round - My weary head and shut away the sound. - The golden star-lights crept - Over the hill ... - I lay so very still - I heard them as they stepped ... - "Sleep!" breathed the Earth. Upon her breast I slept. - - -V - - I'll stay one night beneath your roof, - And longer I will stay for no man, - And as for love, I'm loving-proof— - Turn by your eyes, White Woman. - - The Wander-fever's in my blood, - I have no time for simple loving— - The hot Earth is in roving mood, - And I too must be roving. - - _If_ I should love you ... soon, ah, soon - I'd break your heart to go a-roaming, - And chasing shadows of the moon - Think never once of homing. - - Why will you wring my breast with tears? - Tears will not quench the Wander-fever. - Why will you fill my soul with fears - When I will go for ever? - - I whom the Earth's green passions move - Have put away all passions human ... - I will not love!... I _dare_ not love ... - Turn by your eyes, White Woman. - - -VI - - I went far and cold - Over upland wold - Where the story of spring's breathing - Scarcely yet was told. - Shifting monotone - Of the pale wind's moan - Through my hair at dusk went wreathing, - And I walked alone. - - Far below and far - Where the homesteads are - One small ruddy candle twinkled, - Warmer than a star. - When the day was gone, - Softly one by one - Homing-lights the valley sprinkled ... - And I wandered on. - - - - -KING LAURIN'S GARDEN - -(_A Styrian Peasant-Girl Dreams at her Wheel_) - - - King Laurin has a garden of roses - Where warm sweet odours do idly flow - Wave upon wave through the charmèd air ... - It is sin to wish for the garden of roses - In the heart of wild mountains where no men go. - - Laurin is king of a rosy garden. - The lure of the roses is rare, O rare! - They tremble and brighten and throb and glow ... - I may not think of King Laurin's garden. - A danger, they tell me, for maids is there. - - There are four high gates to the garden of roses, - For the treasure of bloom a golden guard, - A precious cup for the rose-wine red. - O the golden gates of the garden of roses! - They are bright and beautiful, tall and barred. - - There is no strong wall round the rosy garden; - From gate to gate runs a woven thread, - Yellow and silken and fine, for ward. - Who snaps the ward of the rosy garden - With his hand and his foot shall he pay, 'tis said. - - Laurin who rules the garden of roses - Is an elf-king, therefore he has no soul. - (_The good priest shudders at Laurin's name._) - Poor soulless elf of the garden of roses! - Shall I pray for King Laurin at Vesper-toll? - - They say no prayers in the rosy garden - Where life is the flash of a fragrant flame - Like the heart of a flower on fire: the whole - Of forbidden sweet is the rosy garden - I may not think of and feel no shame. - - For in King Laurin's garden of roses - Waking thought shall be stilled asleep, - And the still heart dream itself half-awake ... - O the soft, soft dreams of the garden of roses! - They creep ... (_I look not_) ... but they steal and creep. - - Laurin the king of the rosy garden - Has a magic girdle that none can break. - It makes the pulse of his life to leap - With twelve men's strength. In the rosy garden - He is feared and feared for the girdle's sake. - - Laurin the king of the garden of roses - Has a magic crown where strange birds so sing - That resistance and doubt by their song once kissed - Melt into trance. In the garden of roses - He is loved and loved for his crowned bird-ring. - - Laurin the king of the rosy garden - Has a magic cloak the colour of mist, - And he goes invisibly wandering - Far from the bourne of the rosy garden - Like a cloud of pearl and of amethyst. - - He seeks a bride for his garden of roses, - For the soulless spirit a human girl ... - (_The priest bids me wear my cross and pray_) ... - He will bear her back to his garden of roses - In the mist of his magic grey-and-pearl. - - Kunhild was borne to the rosy garden, - The sister of Dietrich of Bern, one day. - A fair green mead and a cloud's dim swirl, - And Kunhild awoke in the rosy garden ... - But she stood by a linden-tree first, they say. - - * * * * * - - _King Laurin has a garden of roses - Full of warm odours_ ... I'll sit and spin - As my Mother bids me ... _O wine-red glow - Of half-waked dreams in the garden of roses_ ... - Spin, wheel!... _fine thread, bright like silk, and thin_. - - _A grey mist steals from the rosy garden - In the heart of wild mountains where no men go_ ... - To think of the garden they say is sin— - I'll dream no more of King Laurin's garden ... - _See! in our meadow green lindens grow_.... - - - - -THE MYSTERIOUS FOREST - - - I stood on the verge of the mysterious forest, - Sunlight lay behind me on the meadows, - But all the world of the mysterious forest - Was a world of wraiths and shadows. - - The dim trees beckoned, beckoned with their branches, - I said: "The sun's behind me on the meadows." - A dim voice calling, calling through the branches - From the world of wraiths and shadows. - - I saw a pale young Queen, her eyes were mournful, - Steal ghostwise ... is the sun yet on the meadows?... - More phantoms passed and all their eyes were mournful - In the world of wraiths and shadows. - - I see a blue light in the mysterious forest, - The cold night lies behind me on the meadows. - The branches beckon in the mysterious forest ... - They beckon, beckon, beckon, call and beckon - From the world of wraiths and shadows. - - - - -THE OLD GREY QUEEN - - - The Princess looked from the old grey tower; - She was a-weary of being there. - She wore no crown but her own gold hair, - And the old grey Queen had shut her there, - She was so like a flower. - - "The young King's-Son comes over the sea - From the West," said the Queen who was grey and old. - "In an unlit hall were not grey as gold? - In an unlit hall what are young and old? - We'll greet i' the dark," said she. - - The Princess looked from the old grey tower ... - Lo! a milk-white sail on the sunlit ocean. - Fluttered her heart to its fluttering motion, - And the King's-Son looked from the golden ocean ... - She was so like a flower. - - "Why do the grey seas break and boom? - And why is the starless dusk so grey? - And why does the young King's-Son delay? - Shall I," said the Queen who was old and grey, - "Sit all night i' the gloom?" - - The grey seas broke on an empty tower - Like pain that knocks on an empty breast. - Lo! a milk-white sail that flew the crest - Of Love and of Youth met breast to breast - Melted away in the golden West.... - - The old grey Queen beat her empty breast: - "She was so like a flower." - - - - -THE QUEST - - - A Knight rides forth upon a Quest, - And his young Squire follows after; - The Knight's eyes dwell on a star's white crest, - And the Squire's eyes dwell on laughter. - - "What of the Quest that claims our swords?" - The young Squire asks his master. - The Knight says, "'Tis too high for words," - And they speed their horses faster. - - A beggar hails them: "Alms! alms, Sir Knight, - Or loose my life with your dagger!" - The Knight sees only a star's white light, - And the Squire's purse pays the beggar. - - A sturdy robber the highroad bars: - "Sir Knight, our debts we'll settle!" - The Knight hears only the song of stars, - And the Squire's blade wins the battle. - - A lady looks from a castle wall: - "Sir Knight, in pity stay thee! - Untrammel me who lie here in thrall, - And I in love will pay thee." - - The Knight is set on a goal heaven-high - Where a silver star is risen, - And the young Squire it is springs by - To free the maid from prison. - - "Take, good Sir Knight, my pleasure and pride, - The meed of valiant striving! - Here wait the lips of your glad bride - Whose name is Joy-of-Living." - - Starward, starward the rapt Knight goes, - The star's true image missing. - The lady laughs like a lovely rose - And the Squire's lips do the kissing. - - "What, boy, are you my love doth woo? - What's he that would not woo it?" - "He's John-a-Dreams-o'-Dering-do, - And I'm Dick-up-an'-Do-it." - - - - -THE UNSPOKEN WORD - - -THE MAN'S SIDE - - Two years I have lived in a dream - And have dared not to end it— - Owned wealth in a measure supreme - And been fearful to spend it. - - You, woman of beauty and love - In such noble wise fashioned, - Are my dreams and my rich treasure-trove. - I am shamed that, impassioned, - - In secret I levy demands - Upon more than you've given— - Crave yourself, heart and soul, eyes and hands, - Which in sum make up heaven. - - Unconscious of aught, through these days - You have let me be near you, - Knowing not how your thousand sweet ways - Only serve to endear you - - To all in your orbit who move, - In such innocence wronging - As friendship what really is love - And unsatisfied longing. - - Yet, your friendship—to be just your friend— - So caps love in another, - That I would my love, burned to its end, - In its own smoke might smother, - - Lest I in an outbreak one day - Ask of friendship aught stronger— - When you may forbid me to say - Even "friend" any longer. - - So I come in the old way and go, - While my heart's quickened beatings - Are hidden, and you never know - What I glean from our meetings; - - How a word, a look even, which seems - So unconsciously meted, - Builds new dreams on the wreckage of dreams - That were never completed. - - You once dropped a flower—did not see - That I hid in my bosom - What was more than Golconda to me, - And to you a bruised blossom. - - Ten seconds I once held your hand - While you pulled from the river - A lily. Could you understand - Why my own hand should quiver? - - Small matters these things you account - Who so lightly diffuse them, - But to all my life's joy they amount— - And my fear is, to lose them. - - One day, when your eyes are still kind - And your voice is still tender, - I shall slip the control of my mind, - All my future surrender, - - Obeying the primal desire - To fall down and adore you, - And outpour in one instant of fire - All the love I have for you. - - 'Twill be death, and far worse, at your feet - When my lips cease to blunder - And I look up your dear eyes to meet - Overrunning with wonder. - - Thereafter—what? Nothing, I fear— - Even dreams will have vanished - When I by my act from your sphere - Shall for ever be banished. - - Dear, that is the moment I dread— - When you hear my confession, - When the word I withhold has been said - And my love finds expression; - - But till then (and God knows how I seek - To postpone and postpone it), - Till my love grows too strong, lips too weak - To much longer disown it, - - I shall come, if I may, day by day, - My small gleanings to gather, - While you think of me—how shall we say? - As a brother or father; - - And you never will guess, till you learn - From a heart brimming over, - That I've met you at every turn - As a passionate lover. - - -THE WOMAN'S SIDE - - How long will you hold back, belov'd? How long - Leave the supreme, the final word unspoken? - The barrier of silence hold unbroken? - Men—you, too, being a man—have called you strong, - A doer of big deeds, great acts. But they are wrong. - - You lack in courage. I, being woman, know - How often woman shapes man's enterprises, - Cloaking her work in manifold disguises - Lest he should chafe too large a debt to owe— - Strikes every blow up to the very hundredth blow - - That shall at last resolve, achieve, complete - The foregone nine-and-ninety. This, grown wiser, - She leaves with him for fear he should despise her. - _He_ wins the credit for the final feat— - Thought of _his_ triumph, not hers, made all her toiling sweet. - - Belov'd, how long before you understand? - Why, I have known two years you were my lover, - That all my being to yours was given over! - The thing your heart most yearns for lies at hand - Awaiting only this, that you shall make demand. - - Have I not worked for all betwixt us two - Since first I saw your love spring into being, - And you became too faint of heart for seeing - That the one peach you longed to garner grew, - Ripened, and mellowed here only for you, for you? - - You would have drawn abashed from out my life - Had I permitted; it became _my_ mission - To bring the golden moment to fruition - Through, ah, how many hours of wistful strife - With you, who guessed not, even, the tender struggle rife - - Between us. When I met you with a smile, - "Love's not for me," you thought, "yet while she kindly - Still looks and speaks, I'll stay." And went thus blindly - Taking for innocence what sprang from guile - That I might hold you by me just a little while. - - The day I dropped a flower upon the path, - Did you not know it was the thing I aimed for - When you behind me loitered (somewhat lamed for - A good excuse), secured it free from scath - And hid it close, to reap therefrom love's aftermath - - In hours when I was absent? Why, I _meant_, - Belov'd, that you should have this one flower-treasure - (Stolen, you thought!) out of my heart's full measure— - Meant that your solitary nights be spent - Cheek to its petals pressed where all my love lay pent. - - And then, the day you helped me from the boat, - "It is but chance," you thought, "I hold her fingers - In mine past custom's limit, while she lingers - To cull the waterlily there afloat." - It was not chance, belov'd. And still you would not note. - - I have done all a woman may do, dear, - With eyes and hands and tones of voice have spoken, - In all but words have given you the token - And seal of love. What is it then you fear? - Can you not take one step, the goal being now so near? - - Just the last word to utter, just the last - Step to be taken—it is very little! - Can you believe Love's structure is so brittle? - All I have builded in these two years past - Fall tottering at one word? It is of stronger cast. - - You would not have me speak. That part is yours. - My share is finished and I wait for you now. - The time to act has come—what will you do now? - Dear, even I'd say the word that all ensures - But that were more than love itself of love endures. - - I had to spend my strength when you were weak, - Be guide along the road from its beginning - To the last barrier. Am I worth the winning? - But _you_ must turn the key. It will not creak. - Beloved, I am waiting still ... will you not speak? - - - - -IN THE OCULIST'S ANTEROOM - - -I - - Not to be able to see!... - Almost as well not be. - And that man in there in his single hand - Holds all God's light, - Or just so much, you understand, - As may be drunk in by another's sight— - Dear God, will he give the light to me? - - Or will a fathomless night - Drop its veil across the sight - Of my straining eyes, to become mere husks - Whence the kernel slips, - Knowing none of God's dawns and only God's dusks ... - That man has them all at his finger-tips. - Dear God! will he clear the dusk from the light? - - -II - - He has spoken. The man with his cold voice has spoken. - The seal of suspense lies here shattered and broken, - _And I know_ ... And I know - What the coming years hold which an hour since were dumb to me— - God! how precious the jewel of your light has become to me - Where's my hat? Let me go. - - - - -LITTLE DREAM-BROTHER. - - - Little dream-brother that died - When I was not a year out of heaven, - I heard you when you tried - To come to me yestereven. - - As I lay in bed - Midway 'twixt nothingness and waking, - I heard the window shaking - And the beat of wings upon the pane. - "It is not the rain, - But my little dream-brother out there," I said. - - I turned in bed: - "Come in, little dream-brother." - "I can only come in by the gates of sleep - And by no other. - Through the niche of the tiniest dream I can creep— - Sleep, sister, do sleep," you said. - - And so through the night we waited— - You on the window-threshold there - In the wet windy weather, - And I abed—with breath bated, - Just to catch the first moment of sleep unaware - And fly kissing together. - - But sleep would not come till seven, - When the shivering day - Looked up all chilly and grey. - "Creep into bed, - Little dream-brother, under my arm - And I'll keep you warm." - But you shook your head: - "It's bed-time in heaven, - Sister. Goodbye," you said. - - There was not a whole year between you - And me, little dream-brother. - I cannot remember even to have seen you ... - And now I might be your mother. - - - - -FAUST AND MARGARET - - - "Devil," he said, "Love's Heaven— - Shall man not therefor lose his soul?" - - * * * * * - - "God," she whispered, "is Love Heaven? - Is Heaven a place of dole?" - - (_And so she gave his Heaven to the man - Because the man did crave it. - And so because she never asked Hell's ban - He gave it._) - - "Devil!" he said, "Love's Hell! - Man's wild-beast-thirst, how slake it? - Take the tenderest thing, thus—thus! - Passion-torture it a spell, - And break it!" - - * * * * * - - "God," she whispered, "Love is Heaven. - Love's not what Love is made for us, - But what we make it." - - (_And so her dead soul found what it had given, - And what he builded, there his damned soul ended.... - And do you think that either Hell or Heaven - These sinners' suffering-on-earth amended?_) - - - - -DREAM-SHIPS - - - I set my dream-ships floating - Upon the tides of sleep. - Beneath whose moving waters - Unfathomed currents creep; - - And one was made of roses - With flowering mast and spars, - And one was made of music, - And one was made of stars: - - One was all joy and sorrow - Made from my own heart-strings, - And one was like a cradle - With sails like angels' wings. - - O little ships that wander - All lonely on the deep, - And only come to haven - Upon the tides of sleep. - - - - -THE MORAL - - - The youth cried in anguish: "God, - My life is bowed down beneath - Its woe! I am no mere clod— - There's fire in my blood and breath. - - "You, Who made me of flesh, not stone, - Of quivering tissues—dare - You leave me to face alone - A grief past my strength to bear? - - "Life might be veriest heaven, - Life can be veriest hell— - In _Your_ hands rests what is given. - God, I hold You responsible!" - - Then the man who was growing grey - Observed: "In an idle mood - God blew bubbles one day - And loosed the glistening brood - - On the welkin, one by one— - Myriads of worlds they sped: - There were planets and moon and sun, - And one was the globe we tread." - - Then the Spirit that Nullifies, - Men term Death, asked: "How long?" (One fears - God shrugged.) "While I blink my eyes— - Shall we say a billion years?" - - * * * * * - - The youth on the fable broke, - And scorn in his accents ran: - "What is all this to me? I spoke - To God of _Myself_, old man." - - - - -COLOUR-TONES - - -I - - A visionary filmy sheen - Scarce palpable of silver-green - Limns barren furrow and bare branch. - One month more, and the welcoming - Gates o' the world will open wide - To let the full deep vernal tide - Sweep overland, an avalanche - Of green, absorbing in its rush - This silver-misty verdure ... Hush! - This is the old earth's dream of Spring. - - -II - - In Cobham woods the bluebells run - Celestial rillets, streams and rivers, - Or else a purple lake they lie, - Or little azure pool; - The blue flood shimmers in the sun - Or under the wind's breathing shivers, - While drops cerulean-tincted spill - Among the grass. Then very still - The dim sweet waters grow and cool - Like shadows of the sky. - - -III - - The yellow light of daffodils - The lawns beneath the fruit-trees fills, - The yellow light of early spring - Swims in the shining upper air, - And all about the fragrant fair - Blossoming boughs of sunlit white - Like clouds of heavenly incense swing - 'Twixt yellow light and yellow light. - - - - -FROM AN OLD GARDEN - - -OUTSIDE - - Trees have grown to the edge of the gate - Where grey-bearded lichens cling; - The greenwoods stand in a ring, - Holding the garden-pearl in their centre - A jewel inviolate. - Heart of mine, shall we enter? - - There is a charm of sleep in the air, - Weft of Time's humming loom. - There in the green half-gloom - I think some intangible spirit hovers ... - They say the dim wraiths dwell there - Of countless, long-dead lovers. - - Warp of sleep and woof of love: - The flush of a live rose glows - By the pallid death of the rose, - A song next the hush that stilled its numbers: - Such is the web Time wove. - Dare we disturb their slumbers? - - We stand on the outskirts, you and I— - Shall we not venture in? - They will condone the sin, - Those dim, dead lovers, will smile and pardon, - For our honeymoon hangs in the sky. - Heart of mine, into the garden! - - -INSIDE - - You and I here! - Shut the gate behind us. - Nothing to fear - And none to find us. - We are all the world, dear! - - 'Tis a cloister of dreams, - This dear old garden; - The sundial seems - To stand as their warden. - How Love's star gleams! - - We'll sup on the rose, - Our tent is this willow— - Lie close, Love, close! - There's grass for our pillow. - How Love's star glows! - - You and I here - And the world behind us! - Nothing to fear - And none to find us— - Shut the gate, dear. - - -FLOW'R AND SONG - - Song and flow'r and flow'r and song, - So soothed the summer drifts along: - Within our hearts a flow'r - Unfolding hour by hour, - While a song half-conscious slips - Over my dear one's lips. - Flow'r and song and song and flow'r, - So filled runs by each swift, sweet hour: - Close to my breast you twine - Your flow'r-lips laid on mine, - And I catch before we part - The song-beats of your heart. - Flow'r and song in our garden-close - Like wedded lovers have grown one word. - I could weave you a wreath from the notes of that bird, - And pluck you a song from the heart of this rose. - - -DWELLERS IN THE GARDEN - - Who dwelt here of old? - Hush! If I lift from the misty years - The veil of dead smiles and forgotten tears, - I think I can picture a little maid - Crowned with plaits of gold, - Passing alone down each green arcade - While the sundial told - In silence its hours of shine and shade. - Young she was as the peep of dawn, - And as a year-old dappled fawn - Was shy and tender and innocent. - And all her days were in waiting spent - Amongst her flowers in a day-dream she - Builded herself. So continuously - In waiting and waiting the days went by— - We know what she waited, love, you and I. - The flowers had nothing to teach to her— - In her sleep she could hear the grasses stir, - She had secrets with every rose in the place, - The lilies kept smiles for her lily-face, - She could think their thoughts and utter their speech, - Had a sister's tender look for each, - And knew why the trailing clematis - Dropped on the sundial a purple kiss— - As surely as we know why, she knew. - And so in her house of dreams she grew, - And so the star-lighted nights slipped by. - We know what she waited for—you and I— - Who dwelt here of old. - There's her tale half-told. - - What more to unfold? - When he came at last did they ride away, - Or, day succeeding each happy day, - Did they stay with two heartfuls of love to brim - The garden wherein she had waited him? - Well, this I know. If they stayed or went, - After their term of life was spent - They returned to roam by her lily-pond, - On to the rosery set beyond, - Haunt her favourite paths and nooks, - Re-read the fairy-tales which her books, - The flowers, had yielded her in such store - When he was the hero of all their lore. - Hand in hand they go as of old, - He brave and bold, - She crowned with gold. - - Ah, love, they are neither the first nor last! - For all of those, having loved and passed, - In spirit come back when their dust is cold, - Who dwelt here of old. - - -A ROSE-SONG - - Oh, what a realm, what a riot of roses! - Here we stand - Right in the heart of a great rose-land! - Over our head the blossom-world closes, - Under our feet— - Walls, ceil and carpet are flowery-sweet. - - Snowy and crimson and pink and golden - Twine and trail, - Vivid as life is, as death is, pale. - Here they bloom as they bloomed in olden - Days when we - Were unborn shades, and the shades that be - - Had right in these grounds to resent intrusion. - Now you and I - Jealously cherish our privacy. - How came these roses by their profusion, - Tier on tier - Of bloom on bloom running uncurb'd here? - - I think I can guess what they would answer, - Whence they came, - Pallid petal and flower of flame, - Inscribed with such lore as the old romancer - Of Italy - Left the world to make love-songs by. - - We are born, these pink roses say, of kisses, - Dye of the blush. - What though time's passage their soft lisp hush? - The seeds were scattered of lovers' blisses, - And year by year - We renew their tender caresses here. - - We are born of joy, say these petals yellow, - Tinge of delight. - What though love's sunshine be lapped in night? - We, sprung from its seeds, rich-toned and mellow, - Perpetuate - The days when the orbit of love waxed great. - - We are born, these red ones say, of passion, - Flush of the heart. - What though the sound of love's steps depart? - The seeds were sown, and we in this fashion - Immortalize - Remembrance thereof in the heart's own dyes. - - We are born, say these snow-white blooms, of the spirit, - Children of death. - What is the ceasing of mere life-breath? - Love is sustained by its own pure merit, - Its memory - Renewed and renewed to infinity. - - Belov'd, we are adding to these rose-bowers. - When we have passed - Here our hearts' treasure will lie amassed. - Pink, gold, crimson and snowy flowers, - Thus and thus, - To the limit of time will bloom for us. - - -BY THE FOUNTAIN - - Come down, dear, to the fountain's pool with me, - And help me guess how long since last it tinkled - And trickled out thin streams of minstrelsy— - - How long since last the grass with pearls it sprinkled. - It was yet young the day it fell asleep, - For time has left its glassy face unwrinkled. - - Ah, could we where the shadows lie most deep - Peering discern the dear forgotten faces - Of girls who o'er the brink were wont to peep, - - With shy eyes seeking in the depths the graces - Made dear and lovely to them by love's praise. - Can all have passed away and left no traces? - - They dreamed, as we too dream, through summer days, - And hid their white thoughts in such water-lilies - As float here now. Flowers do not change their ways. - - Ah, love, to-day the lucent water still is - As tho' no rosy finger-tips had dipped - And dabbled it, and hushed the fountain's rill is. - - Their feet across the velvet greensward tripped, - Their bosoms pressed the crumbling grey-stone basin, - They fed the ruddy goldfish laughing-lipped ... - - Is not one left? Look, look! I seem to trace in - The murky deeps some shape of hoary carp— - Too late! for now I only see your face in - - The water, smiling questions. He was sharp, - That king-fish, but I caught his gold crown's glimmer ... - Oh, fountain, tune again for us your harp, - - Fling through the air for us your diamond shimmer - Of spray. Two new young lovers seek your shrine. - Those loves of old with years grow fainter, dimmer, - - But ours is warm and living and divine, - And time has not yet breathed upon its lustre, - And I am hers and she is all of mine! - - And here we kneel where once old loves would muster, - Shut in the lilies one new secret up, - And add her image to the beauty-cluster - Of those whose eyes lie mirrored in your cup. - - -TIME AND LOVE - - Old sundial, you stand here for Time: - For Love, the vine that round your base - Its tendrils twines, and dares to climb - And lay one flower-capped spray in grace - Without the asking on your cold - Unsmiling and unfrowning face. - Yet, sundial, even Time may mould. - In years to come the foot shall stumble - Upon your shattered ruins where - This vine will flourish still, as rare, - As fresh, as fragrant as of old. - Love will not crumble. - - Kisses have worn your stones away, - Lov'd lips you did not pulse beneath; - Dropt tears have hastened your decay - And brought you one step nigher death; - And you have heard, unthrilled, unmoved, - The music of Love's golden breath - And seen the light in eyes that loved. - You think you hold the core and kernel - Of all the world beneath your crust, - Old dial? But when you lie in dust, - This vine will bloom, strong, green, and proved. - Love is eternal. - - -RIFLED FLOWERS - - Why is the lily's cheek waxen with grief? - A brown-and-gold thief - Dived down to her core - And burgled her store. - Bowed with her sweetness she saw him depart, - But her soul was too pure to complain. - Dear, drop a kiss in her heart - And make the sweet lily all honey again. - - Why does the fox-glove droop low, bell and leaf? - A silver-winged thief - Who delved in her pollen - With gold powder swollen - Fled in new blossoms her wealth to disburse - And left her not one yellow grain. - Sweet, blow a kiss in her purse - And fill the dear fox-glove with treasure again. - - -FAIRY-TIME - - Lie very still, love, where I fold - You close: the clocks strike fairy-time. - The thin, sweet tinkle of their chime - Is like a thread of gold - Woven through the heart of night - For our delight. - And following the elfin call - Faint noises, half-tones, rise and fall— - The whirr and flit of fairy wings - Pass and re-pass, - And we can hear among the grass - Musicians tune their buzzing strings, - And small feet tapping on the ground - The measures of a fairy round. - Out of the roses stream wee elves, - Sweet peas are fairies in themselves, - And myriad water-sprites - From dreaming water-lilies rise, - Such glistening, ephemeral mites, - Flashing like spray across our eyes. - Watch how all whirl, dissolve, and mix - Again, foot it so daintily, - Play such quaint, pretty tricks— - Some on wild moths go riding by, - Breaking them in with rein and bit - Of gossamer: some lurk and flit, - Making pretence at hide and-seek - Behind the daisies, laugh and peek - Like children: disregarding rules, - Play leap-frog with the spotted stools - Of fungus, each night newly-sprung - For them to sport among ... - Suddenly all grow hushed with awe— - Come closer, dear! - The voice of one who broke the law - Of Fairyland sounds harsh and near, - And overhead a dark shape flies. - Bound in a hollow oak by day - He, like the wizard Merlin, lies, - But is condemned to pass the night - In restless flight - Until the dawn looms grey.... - There! he has passed. And in a trice - They all forget him, joining hands - Once more in glittering, laughing bands, - Employing every strange device - And twist and twirl - And mazy whirl - To build their graceful, freakish dance— - Like moonbeam motes they glide and glance - Under the starshine. Seize this chance - Of watching them. To-morrow we - No trace shall see - Of all their revels save—who knows?— - A broken toadstool, or the spun - Fine silken spider's web undone, - The shattered petals of a rose - Tom in the careless frolic, or - The bloom brushed from some untamed wing - Of moth, and on their dancing-floor - Staining the grass a bright green ring. - Lie close, and let us look our fill - To-night. Be very still. - - -THE WANING YEAR - - Two little things, dear, I have seen - To-day that overflowed my breast with sorrow— - We may not stay here many another morrow. - - Amongst the leafage, by its green - Still-living sisters tenderly enfolden, - I saw one single leaf grown dry and golden. - - And down the alleys of the rose - Passing, I saw one lightly breathed-on blossom - Fall instantly deflowered to earth's brown bosom. - - Compassionate summer ere she goes - Strikes tender notes surcharged with wistful warnings ... - Dear heart, we must begone ere many mornings. - - -SHADOWS - - We thought we were here alone, - Had spent our summer of love - By all other hearts unknown, - Of all other eyes unseen— - But something came to disprove - Last night what we thought had been. - - The shadows fell one by one— - We have watched them fall before - And fancied ourselves alone; - But they seemed to waver and move - Last night, and to wander o'er - Our green-tented couch of love. - - You were asleep, and I - Would not disturb your dreams - Lest the shadowy shapes should fly. - I saw them gather and mount - In ever-increasing streams— - More lovers than I could count. - - They circled around our bed - And watched us a little while - From the sides and foot and head; - And some of that shadow-band - Were wistful, and some would smile, - But all seemed to understand. - - Then I felt light fingers twine - In my hair, and soft breath enwreathe - My brow ... lips were laid to mine ... - But none of the hands was this, - Nor the breath the breath you breathe, - The kisses were not your kiss. - - Then ... you turned on your side to press - More close with the smile that slips - From its hiding at my caress, - And you breathed my name in my ear - As though I had kissed your lips ... - But I had not kissed you, dear. - - -THE LAST NIGHT - - Well, is it done? is it over? - Three months in these groves I have been your lover, - Added my voice to the echoing chorus - Of those who loved here before us. - - We have pressed the paths made sweet - By the pressure of bygone lovers' feet, - Have lain amid flowerless violet-beds - Where they laid their happy heads; - - We have flung a red-rose petal - On the glass of the pond and watched it settle, - Then drift like a boat down one of her streams - With our cargo of hopes and dreams. - - So many have come and gone, - Have done the things which we two have done: - Have leaned in revery sweet and solemn, - Hands laced, on the sundial's column: - - Have found their three months as brief - As the life of a blade of grass, a leaf— - As eternal, too, as the leafage is - Have found their three months of bliss. - - For us it is finished and over. - Our three months are spent when as lover and lover - We may roam these groves. But to-night we are nearest, - This being our last night, dearest, - - The spirits of those who wander - Near our lily-pond, by our sundial yonder, - In our rose-realm ... Farewells are not easily spoken, - So their silence remains unbroken. - - But I see through a mist of tears - This garden after a million years, - Where two shades more move eternally ... - Heart of mine, they are you and I. - - - - -A SHEAF OF NATURE-SONGS - -(Overstrand, 1905.) - - -I - - They were gathered up in the moods - Which I found in the solitudes - Of the shore and the fields and the woods, - Of the dawn and the noon and the even, - Of the earth and the sea and of heaven. - And some lack rhythm and metre, - And none of the songs is sweeter, - Or as sweet (by the infinite span - Which divides the work of man - From the work of his God), as the thing - Which was the fountain and spring - Whence my heart drew its need to sing. - But because wherever I went - Much song in my heart was pent: - Because the sea and the sky - Filled my breast with such melody: - Because the woodlands and all - God's earth became musical - As they entered into my soul: - Because I captured the whole - Of Nature for my possession: - I sang just to find expression - For the joy and the love and the pride of it— - Else all song in me might have died of it. - - -II - - The infinite sky overhead - And on the horizon - The infinite sea. - Green billowing grass for my bed— - At last I am out of my prison - And free! - - An insect creeps over my page, - An infinite mite - With all life folded under its wings. - I am of no sex, of no age, - Here out of sight - Of the world, all alone with God's infinite things. - - Oh, the world of small leafage - Peopling the bank where I lean, - And the one white daisy - With its wisdom of things supernal. - They live out their brief age, - Brief but eternal, - And time itself recedes and grows hazy - In this little infinite world of green. - - Behind me the copse - Like a round cup dips - Filled with a pool of soft shadows, - And to me in the meadows - One shy bird-voice from the tree-top drips - And into the hollow of shadows it melts and drops. - - They are all around me - And all above me, - Half-seen, half-heard, - Flower and leaf and insect and bird, - Wild, timid creatures, - Simple and friendly and shy; - And so still I lie - Where they have found me - That I think in time they may learn to love me, - For they are Nature's - And so am I. - - One by one she unfolds each feature, - The Infinite Mother - To her child. - There was a new bird-call, - And there was another! - I too shall learn to grow simple and shy and wild ... - Only Nature and Nature and nothing but Nature, - And I alone in the heart of it all. - - -III - - They who dwell in the southlands say, - Little green England of mine, that you - Are misty and colourless, cold and grey. - If it be true - And they can know it who dwell afar, - You only are grey as diamonds are. - - To-day in the warm soft evening light - You are a zone of delicate tints; - On the rim of the sea the sun is bright, - And shoots and glints - Sparkles of gold through its splendid blue. - Who say you are colourless know not you. - - Opal gleams on the sunset sky - Where a wave of the liquid sapphire flows; - One bright cloud on its flood drifts by - Of pearl and rose; - The air is radiant and crystalline - As rare jewels delved from a fairy mine. - - A breeze just shivers the green of the corn - And sweeps it into a silver sea; - Infinite sensitive shades new-born - On hill and lea - Over the land's lap flit and pass - Like elusive tints in Venetian glass - - Nature has painted you in pastel, - You are her palette of tender hues, - Little green England of mine, where dwell - Change, and infuse, - The million lights of the polar-star, - And you only are grey as diamonds are. - - -IV - - If I could unravel - The music of the grass, - Beyond those confines travel - Which mortals cannot pass, - I think that I should capture all - The secret of things musical— - All music ever will be, and all it ever was. - - Ear close to earth inclining - I hear her wordless song - Of threads past man's divining - Woven the grass among. - Beneath these fragrant, tangled weeds - She sings the strain to which her seeds - March into life, push upward to heaven, and grow strong. - - Then like a voice replying - Follows her cradle-croon - Lulling tired things that, dying, - Back to their Mother swoon. - For where the worlds of grasses spring - Both life and death their choral sing, - The spheres' eternal roundel circling an afternoon. - - The music of existence - Moves underneath my ear— - From how remote a distance - Comes that which sounds so near! - Could I the human barrier pass - By the fine measure of one grass - I then might comprehend what now I only hear. - - There's such melodious stirring - Of hidden, secret things, - There's such harmonious whirring - Of faint mysterious wings; - And underneath this leaf is curled - The song, I think, of all the world— - Up-turned, should I discover the seed from which it springs? - - If I could unravel - The music of the grass, - Beyond those confines travel - Which mortals cannot pass, - I think that I should capture all - The secret of things musical— - All music ever will be, and all it ever was. - - -V - - Hark! - It is afternoon, - Yet that must be a lark. - No other bird flies up so high - And shakes its sparkling spray of song - Through the grey clouds in the sky, - No other bird has just that thrilling - Note in trilling, - Or can sustain so long - Its liquid flood of mirth: - As rare a boon - To thirsty ears as God's dew is to earth. - Yet it is afternoon. - I thought the larks, all scorning - The jaded hours, sang only in the morning. - And I, whose first flushed youth is going, - Who watch the swift noon growing - Upon me, hour by hour, - Feeling that I must always stand apart - From earth's sweet singers, because I lacked the pow'r - To loose the morning song-burst from my heart— - Oh, songster of the mellowing hour of day, - Shall I, too, late or soon, - Learn from your throat the way - To loose my power of song even in my afternoon? - - -VI - - The day was a lifeless day. - Under a tree I lay - And round me its branches bent - Touching the earth like a tent. - There was no stir of breeze; - I was shut in with trees, - Locked from the world by these; - Dead leaves were piled on the ground, - And the forest lay in a swound, - Throbbed with nor pulse nor breath, - And I thought: "It is waiting Death." - So I lay there, still and oppressed, - While the silence grew in my breast. - - Presently as I lay - I heard from far away - Little pattering feet - Over the dry leaves beat; - Tripping along pell-mell, - Thicker and faster they fell - Than tongue could count or tell. - And I fancied the birds and deer - And rabbits, too awed for fear, - Were creeping my aid to plead - Impelled by our common need— - Till into my sheltered place - One raindrop splashed on my face. - - I lay there tented and dry - While the dews, dropped out of the sky, - Made music upon the sheaves - Of last year's stacked-up leaves— - No steps of wild things that trod, - But the whispering voice of God - In grave commune with the sod, - Messenger-angels rife - With words not of Death but Life, - Bidding the old brown Earth - Prepare for her great re-birth - And look to Heaven in pride - Renewed and revivified. - - Then I heard far under the soil - The seedlings stir and toil, - And blade and bulb and root - Put forth each one new shoot, - And I felt deep down and deep - A million pulses leap - Out of their term of sleep, - And I thought the acorn spoke - With the voice of the full-grown oak, - And the cone wore the crown divine - Of the red-stemmed, crested pine, - And the haw held all the blush - And bloom of the wild-rose bush. - - What helped these young things to grow? - Dead leaves of a year ago, - Leaves heaped up in their crowds - And spread like funeral-shrouds; - Yet life sprang out of their death - As the blade slips out of its sheath, - Life was fostered beneath - The leaves here rotting away - And emerged from their decay. - Are all things that seem to die - Renewed to infinity, - And the bodies and souls of men - Made and re-made again? - - With the scent of the rain-wet loam - In my nostrils, I turned me home. - - -VII - - I lay on the shore beside the sea, - And the young moon climbed the hill of the sky - And paused a space to look down on me - Alone with my misery - - Then on the fallow blue fields above - The young moon sowed its seed of stars; - Light gleamed from the mirror of her named Love - And flashed from the shield of Mars. - - The stars sprang up from the silver seed - Wherever that silver sower trod. - Through the windows of heaven watching my need - I knew them the eyes of God. - - Little blue waves with blown foam capped - Crept on the solitary shore - Which the sea's white lips still licked and lapped - For ever and evermore. - - The silver moon waxed strong and older; - I thought I saw it stop to fling - A silver sickle over its shoulder - And commence its harvesting. - - The strong moon ploughed through the fields of heaven, - Its eternal labour but half-begun. - My breast dropped its load of earthy leaven - As the stars dropped one by one. - - I had sat there hugging my trivial cross, - My infinitesimal mortal pains, - Reckoning up how my mortal loss - Outmeasured my mortal gains. - - I saw the moon reaping God's blue fields - Night after night sown thick with seeds. - I saw the crop which God's harvest yields - Not in men's dreams, but deeds. - - The old moon climbed down the hill of the sky, - The strong young day flashed up in flame. - The moon dropped into the sea, and I - Bowed down my head in shame. - - - - -APOLLO IN PHERAE - - - _Asklepios! dead son! Asklepios!_ - - I was a God. I am a God. I tend - Admetos' flocks upon the meek green earth, - And sun-fires course in all the veins of me. - I watch mild sheep a-browse in tame, sweet pastures - Or dipping in quiet waters. Yesterday - I blazed the heavenly arc from east to west; - Men saw me pinnacled on the crest of noon - Crown'd with celestial flame ... - _Asklepios!_ - To-day the discrown'd gold of my hair is strewn - In the green lap of grasses, my bowed brow - Leans on the good strong shoulder of the earth - Even as a stricken mortal's might, that seeks - His comfortable mother in his grief. - Earth, earth, what flower from seed wilt thou put forth - Fed by the waters of mine eyes, that most - Shoot lightnings? dews wrung from the Sun-god's eyes, - Divinely wrathful, mortally unhappy! - - _Asklepios! my son! Asklepios!_ - I am a God. Admetos is a King. - The God came to the King's doors overnight - And knocked and was admitted; and the King - Knew me and asked my will. - "To be thy servant - Throughout a year of days," I answered him. - "Phœbus-Apollo, how shall this thing be?" - I said: "I slew a smith, a monstrous clod, - Not God or mortal, one that had done evil. - I am the avenger of evil among the Gods, - For this one and for that I have stretched my bow - And winged my arrow through the heart of Wrong; - But this was evil done unto myself, - And Vengeance wore the sleek face of Advantage, - Wherefor Zeus robs me of my Godhead, King, - And I will be thy shepherd for a year." - He stood half wonderstruck, half shamed-protesting, - But I bade him bring me out among his flocks - And speak no more. - "I will have peace," I said. - - "Fear not, and bid thy people not to fear; - For I am worn with too much strife and passion, - And no more hurt shall come from that I do. - Thou shalt not suffer by this term of service, - But see thy lands grow rich and bountiful, - And where thou lov'st I'll win thy love for thee, - And life shall prosper with thee, - "Life is sweet! - Make it not too sweet, God, lest when death come - It look more bitter than my soul can bear." - "Even death, Admetos, I'll delay for thee. - Now, peace! I am done with vengeance for a space." - Thus I am come again upon the earth - Even as a common man ... - _Asklepios!_ - - The people eye me timidly, and dare - Not consort with the God they may not worship. - Even so it was in those first days of life - When I was a boy in Delos with my Mother, - And only half aware I was a God. - O this unconquerable loneliness - That binds the crown of Godhead on our brows! - Yet easier the aloofness of the people - Than the familiar face of the half-God Pan. - I met in the woods the brute-divinity, - Who fleered an impudent hoof, a satyr-smile - Licking his lips: - "What, Helios! is the sun - Debased to something lower than the earth? - What! are we two, I of the beast's grain, thou - The delicate, disdainful spirit of flame, - The seed of mischief and the seed of Zeus, - Brought equal at the last? Nay, is the beast - Sun's master, Helios? Shepherds are my subjects. - I do not sway high kingdoms of the air— - I drag my hoofs in the clay. I do not fashion - Songs for the stars upon a golden lyre— - I (as did Marsyas, ha?) scrape out rough tunes - On common reeds. I am not beautiful, - I have not eyes like June-blue heavens on fire, - Nor hair filched from the harvest of the sun, - Nor a white matchless shape, supple and swift - And strong and splendid. I am an earthy thing, - Half goat and half coarse boor, not fit to touch - The sun's moon-sister—(yet, who knows? who knows! - Let her keep watch on Latmos how she will - Above the slumbers of her pretty shepherd!) - No, Pan is not as Helios! Helios is - A shepherd, sister'd by a shepherd's wanton, - And Pan's a King, and shepherds are his subjects!" - - Zeus, did it feed thy pride on proud Olympos, - Did it pleasure thee to hear the brutish God, - The disgustful animal we chafe to name - A God even as ourselves, thus flout thy son? - - _Asklepios! dead son! Asklepios!_ - - Doomed to the solitariness of greatness - We watch, we lonely Gods on shrouded heights, - The careful, padded steps, the little lives, - The little trivial lives of men and women - That fear our anger and entreat our favour; - And while we are indifferent all is well, - And if we rise to hate all is not ill, - But when we stoop to meet uplifted eyes - Of bright aspiring fools that will not choose - To tread life's inconspicuous middle ways— - O, when we love we bring our lov'd ones woe - - I had a son, his name was Phaeton. - Could he be of my being and not be proud? - He was all inspiration, and he mounted - Up to the highest and reached his hands for the sun - And shouted: "I will light the fires in heaven!" - But he was three-parts man to one-part God, - So men and Gods shrugged his brief blaze of glory - Into extinction ... Thus I lost my son, - Phaeton, killed thro' overmuch ambition. - - I had a son, his name was Orpheus. - Could he be of my being and not love? - His love was rooted deeplier than Hell. - He said: "I will pluck back my love from Hell - Tho' it upheave all Hell in the plucking." When - He failed, being one-part man to three-parts God, - He chose the swift way to regain his love - And died a vile death ... Thus I lost my son, - Orpheus, killed thro' too great love and longing. - - I had a son. He was Asklepios, - Could he be of my being and not KNOW? - His wisdom girdled life and death in one; - Life smiled on him, because he smiled on death - And said: "Life is less conquerable than death." - He said: "I will reverse the word of death." - He said: "I will make the dead to live again." - Two days ago Asklepios lived ... - The King - Of the nether-world, that wears the face of night - And hates me, wearing day's face, called on Zeus: - "This mortal steals upon my sovereignty, - Stands brazen champion for the world of flesh, - Determines souls that waver towards the Styx— - Worse! hales the souls back from beyond the Styx, - Bringing the dead to life. This is more craft, - Brother, than we may suffer in a man. - Shall he with careless finger sway at will - The Balance of Destiny? Avenge me, Zeus!" - A Cyclops forged a thunder-bolt for Zeus, - And, black-browed, Zeus did launch it ... Thus I lost - My son Asklepios, killed thro' too much knowledge. - - _Asklepios! my dead Asklepios!_ - - Let the dark King of Stygia howl for aid - To Olympos! I am King of Heaven and ask - No aid! I wreak my vengeance for myself. - I rose up in the wrath of my bereavement - And set an arrow to the silver bow - That none save I can bend, and let it fly. - I might not slay the wielder of the bolt, - But I did slay the forger of the bolt. - And when I saw the Cyclops pierced and dead - I came to Zeus and told him of my deed: - "Father, 'gainst whom my bow was never turned, - Father, that hast destroyed thine own son's son, - I defy thy doing and have destroyed thy tool." - - Then while the Gods stood all aghast, Zeus spake: - "Go from among this immortal company - Which thou hast sinned against in daring so - To sin against _me_ that am the head of all, - And learn to quell thy too fierce spirit, learn - To teach thy riotous blood obedience, - Serving the sons of men one year of days. - Go hence! thou art not of us for twelve moons." - I nothing said, and went. For when we Gods - Revolt among ourselves the end is near, - And Zeus must levy justice as he will. - - _Asklepios! my dead Asklepios! - Had an hundred bolts been forged instead of one - I had slain an hundred Cyclops for thy sake - And suffered an hundred years of degradation!_ - - Earth that receivest my body for a space, - I first saw light upon thee. Comfort me, - And tame a little the untamed blood in me. - Better will I endure to learn of thee - Than of the envious Gods, whom this disgrace - Serves for a secret feast to glut their hearts on. - For we have loved each other, thou and I, - And I have belted thee with golden arms, - And I have claspt thee daily with hot kisses, - And felt thee leap and pulse and answer to me - Like a shy maid grown bold and glad with love. - There's that in the core of thee that is so kin - To the core of me, it holds us twain inseverable, - Tho' from a billion blue-gold caverns of air - Translucent waves of space roll up an ocean - 'Twixt earth and sun: our hearts beat time together. - My sister of the spheres has no such power - To quicken thee, be lov'd of thee and love thee. - She rains down light like argent snows; and thou, - Part shadow'd, part-illumin'd, wholly chill'd, - Submitt'st thyself to call her queen, who asks - No ardent service of thee, earth, as I do. - Yet, chaste twin-sister, we were of one birth; - Thy veins run all the silver, mine the gold. - What marvel Leto had nine days labour of us, - Strenuously thus disparting snow from flame, - To give the Gods one daughter all pure ice, - One son all perfect fire?... - O Thunderer! - That spark of immortal fire which, pregnant in her, - Evolved into my Godhead, issuèd - Out of _thy_ Godhead; my humiliation - Is thy humiliation, Zeus! I stand - Supremest in thy shining progeny: - I am thy glittering symbol fix'd in heaven - To draw the dazed, adoring eyes of men: - I am thy arm of vengeance, I the hand - Bestowing thy good gifts: I am thy Voice - Of mystic prophecy and divination - Thro' which thou keep'st thy fingers on men's souls. - Daughters and sons thou hast whose attributes, - This one by twisty cunning, this by love - Too often base, this by remorseless carnage - Not bearing the high name of vengeance, these - By the insidious lusts of gold and wine, - Serve to express thee to the bodies of men; - But I express thee to the ghost in them, - For there is none whose vesture is like mine - Weft only of the spirit's highest tissues, - So that the world beholding thee thro' me - Beholds thee at thy zenith, and exalted - Out of the flesh struggles to sense an instant - The music, fire and essence of Olympos. - This Thunderer, wilt thou smirch? More dim, more dim - Than the imperial spark thou quenchest in me - Thou mak'st thy imperial fires whence I did spring, - The fount of us so indissoluble - That what shames thee shames me. - Earth, is this vengeance? - - Nay, I see clearer. Rest unstained of me, - Thou God that art the father of my being. - The spirit of me, which is _Thou_, makes cause with thee - Against me. We must be inviolable - Or men will point their fingers—when We fall. - - _Asklepios! farewell, Asklepios!_ - - Earth, I will serve on thee my year of days - Nor chafe beneath them like a petulant boy. - Ay, tho' Zeus force my Godhead into bonds - I will yet bear my bondage like a God. - - - - -Transcriber's Note - - Obvious punctuation and spelling errors have been repaired. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Pan-Worship and Other Poems, by Eleanor Farjeon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAN-WORSHIP AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 56074-0.txt or 56074-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/0/7/56074/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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