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diff --git a/old/gp10110.txt b/old/gp10110.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd23b14 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gp10110.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2810 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook A Lover's Diary, by Gilbert Parker, Entire +#101 in our series by Gilbert Parker + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: A Lover's Diary, Complete + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6274] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 21, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVER'S DIARY, PARKER, ENTIRE*** + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +A LOVER'S DIARY, Complete + +By Gilbert Parker + + + +CONTENTS + +Volume 1. +THE VISION +ABOVE THE DIN +LOVE'S COURAGE +LOVE'S LANGUAGE +ASPIRATION +THE MEETING +THE NEST +PISGAH +LOVE IS ENOUGH +AT THE PLAY +SO CALM THE WORLD +THE WELCOME +THE SHRINE +THE TORCH +IN ARMOUR +IN THEE MY ART +DENIAL +TESTAMENT +CAPTIVITY +O MYSTIC WINGS +WAS IT THY FACE? +A WOMAN'S HAND +ONE FACE I SEE +MOTHER +WHEN FIRST I SAW THEE +THE FATES LAUGH +AS ONE WHO WAITETH +THE SEALING +THE PLEDGE +LOVE'S TRIBUTARIES +THE CHOICE +RECOGNITION +THE WAY OF DREAMS +THE ACCOLADE +FALLEN IDOLS +TENNYSON +THE ANOINTED + + +Volume 2. +DREAMS +THE BRIDE +THE WRAITH +SURRENDER +THE CITADEL +MALFEASANCE +ANNUNCIATION +VANISHED DREAMS +INTO THY LAND +DIVIDED +WE MUST LIVE ON +YET LIFE IS SWEET +LOST FOOTSTEPS +THE CLOSED DOOR +THE CHALICE +MIO DESTINO +I HAVE BEHELD +TOO SOON AWAY +THE TREASURE +DAHIN +LOVE'S USURY +THE DECREE +'TIS MORNING NOW +SACRIFICE +SHINE ON +SO, THOU ART GONE +THE THOUSAND THINGS +ONES +THE SEA +THE CHART +REVEALING +OVERCOMING +WHITHER NOW +ARARAT +AS LIGHT LEAPS UP +THE DARKENED WAY +REUNITED +SONG WAS GONE FROM ME +GOOD WAS THE FIGHT +UNCHANGED +ABSOLVO TE +BENEDICTUS +THE MESSAGE +UNAVAILING +YOU SHALL LIVE ON +"VEX NOT THIS GHOST" +THE MEMORY +THE PASSING +ENVOY + + + +INTRODUCTION + +'A Lover's Diary' has not the same modest history as 'Embers'. As far +back as 1894 it was given to the public without any apology or excuse, +but I have been apologising for it ever since, in one way--without avail. +I wished that at least one-fifth of it had not been published; but my +apology was never heard till now as I withdraw from this edition of A +Lover's Diary some twenty-five sonnets representing fully one-fifth of +the original edition. As it now stands the faint thread of narrative is +more distinct, and redundancy of sentiment and words is modified to some +extent at any rate. Such material story as there is, apart from the +spiritual history embodied in the sonnets, seems more visible now, and +the reader has a clearer revelation of a young, aspiring, candid mind +shadowed by stern conventions of thought, dogma, and formula, but +breaking loose from the environment which smothered it. The price it +pays for the revelation is a hopeless love informed by temptation, but +lifted away from ruinous elements by self-renunciation, to end with the +inevitable parting, poignant and permanent, a task of the soul finished +and the toll of the journey of understanding paid. + +The six sonnets in italics, beginning with 'The Bride', and ending with +'Annunciation', have nothing to do with the story further than to show +two phases of the youth's mind before it was shaken by speculation, +plunged into the sadness of doubt and apprehension, and before it had +found the love which was to reveal it to itself, transform the character, +and give new impulse and direction to personal force and individual +sense. These were written when I was twenty and twenty-one years of age, +and the sonnet sequence of 'A Lover's Diary' was begun when I was twenty- +three. They were continued over seven years in varying quantity. +Sometimes two or three were written in a week, and then no more would be +written for several weeks or maybe months, and it is clearly to be seen +from the text, from the change in style, and above all in the nature of +the thought that between 'The Darkened Way', which ends one epoch, and +'Reunited', which begins another and the last epoch, were intervening +years. + +The sonnet which begins the book and particularly that which ends the +book have been very widely quoted, and 'Envoy' has been set to music by +more than one celebrated musician. Whatever the monotony of a sonnet +sequence (and it is a form which I should not have chosen if I had been +older and wiser) there has been a continuous, if limited, demand for the +little book. As Edmund Clarence Stedman said in a review, it was a book +which had to be written. It was an impulse, a vision, and a revealing, +and, in his own words in a letter to me, "It was to be done whether you +willed it or no, and there it is a truthful thing of which you shall be +glad in spite of what you say." + +These last words of the great critic were in response to the sudden +repentance and despair I felt after Messrs. Stone and Kimball had +published the book in exquisite form with a beautiful frontispiece by +Will H. Low. In any case, it is now too late to try and disabuse the +minds of those who care for the little piece of artistry, and since 1894, +when it was published, I have matured sufficiently in life's academy not +to be too unduly sensitive either as to the merit or demerit of my work. +There is, after all, an unlovable kind of vanity in acute self-criticism +--as though it mattered deeply to the world whether one ever wrote +anything; or, having written, as though it mattered to the world enough +to stir it in its course by one vibration. The world has drunk deep of +wonderful literature, and all that I can do is make a small brew with a +little flavour of my own; but it still could get on very well indeed with +the old staple and matured vintages were I never to write at all. + + + + + + +The King--Whence art thou, sir? + +Gilfaron--My Lord, I know not well. + Indeed, I am a townsman of the world. + For once my mother told me that she saw + The Angel of the Cross Roads lead me out, + And point to every corner of the sky, + And say, "Thy feet shall follow in the trail + Of every tribe; and thou shalt pitch thy tent + Wherever thou shalt see a human face + Which hath thereon the alphabet of life; + Yea, thou shalt spell it out e'en as a child: + And therein wisdom find." + +The King--Art thou wise? + +Gilfaron--Only according to the Signs. + +The King--What signs? + +Gilfaron--The first--the language of the Garden, sire, + When man spoke with the naked searching thought, + Unlacquered of the world. + +The King--Speak so forthwith; come, show us to be wise. + +Gilfaron--The Angel of the Cross Roads to me said: + "And wisdom comes by looking eye to eye, + Each seeing his own soul as in a glass; + For ye shall find the Lodges of the Wise, + The farthest Camp of the Delightful Fires, + By marching two by two, not one by one." + + --The King's Daughter. + + + + + + THE VISION + + As one would stand who saw a sudden light + Flood down the world, and so encompass him + And in that world illumined Seraphim + Brooded above and gladdened to his sight; + + So stand I in the flame of one great thought, + That broadens to my soul from where she waits, + Who, yesterday, drew wide the inner gates + Of all my being to the hopes I sought. + + Her words come to me like a summer-song, + Blown from the throat of some sweet nightingale; + I stand within her light the whole day long, + + And think upon her till the white stars fail: + I lift my head towards all that makes life wise, + And see no farther than my lady's eyes. + + + + + + + ABOVE THE DIN + + Silence sits often on me as I touch + Her presence; I am like a bird that hears + A note diviner than it knows, and fears + To share the larger harmony too much. + + My soul leaps up, as to a sudden sound + A long-lost traveller, when, by her grace, + I learn of her life's sweetness face to face, + And sweep the chords of sympathies profound. + + Her regal nature calmly holds its height + Above life's din, while moving in its maze. + Unworthy thoughts would die within her sight, + + And mean deeds creep to darkness from her gaze. + Yet only in my dreams can I set down + The word that gives her nobleness a crown. + + + + + + + LOVE'S COURAGE + + Courage have I to face all bitter things, + That start out darkly from the rugged path, + Leading to life's achievement; not God's wrath + Would sit so heavy when my lady sings. + + I did not know what life meant till I felt + Her hand clasp mine in compact to the end; + Till her dear voice said, "See, I am your friend!" + And at her feet, amazed, my spirit knelt. + + And yet I spoke but hoarsely then my thought, + I groped amid a thousand forces there; + Her understanding all my meaning caught, + + It was illumined in her atmosphere. + She read it line by line, and then there fell + The curtain on the shrine-and it is well. + + + + + + + LOVE'S LANGUAGE + + Just now a wave of perfume floated up + To greet my senses as I broke the seal + Of her short letter; and I still can feel + It stir me as a saint the holy cup. + + The missive lies there,--but a few plain words: + A thought about a song, a note of praise, + And social duties such as fill the days + Of women; then a thing that undergirds + + The phrases like a psalm: a line that reads- + "I wish that you were coming!" Why, it lies + Upon my heart like blossoms on the skies, + + Like breath of balm upon the clover meads. + The perfumed words soothe me into a dream; + My thoughts float to her on the scented stream. + + + + + + + ASPIRATION + + None ever climbed to mountain heights of song, + But felt the touch of some good woman's palm; + None ever reached God's altitude of calm, + But heard one voice cry, "Follow!" from the throng. + + I would not place her as an image high + Above my reach, cold, in some dim recess, + Where never she should feel a warm caress + Of this my hand that serves her till I die. + + I would not set her higher than my heart,-- + Though she is nobler than I e'er can be; + Because she placed me from the crowd apart, + + And with her tenderness she honoured me. + Because of this, I hold me worthier + To be her kinsman, while I worship her. + + + + + + + THE MEETING + + O marvel of our nature, that one life + Strikes through the thousand lives that fold it round, + To find another, even as a sound + Sweeps to a song through elemental strife! + + Through cycles infinite the forces wait, + Which destiny has set for union here; + No circumstance can warp them from their sphere; + They meet sometime; and this is God and Fate. + + And God is Law, and Fate is Law in use, + And we are acted on by some deep cause, + Which sanctifies "I will" and "I refuse," + + When Love speaks--Love, the peaceful end of Laws. + And I, from many conflicts over-past, + Find here Love, Law, and God, at last. + + + + + + + THE NEST + + High as the eagle builds his lonely nest + Above the sea, above the paths of man, + And makes the elements his barbican, + That none may break the mother-eagle's rest; + + So build I far above all human eyes + My nest of love; Heaven's face alone bends down + To give it sunlight, starlight; while is blown + A wind upon it out of Paradise. + + None shall affright, no harm may come to her, + Whom I have set there in that lofty home: + Love's eye is sleepless; I could feel the stir + + E'en of God's cohorts, if they chanced to come. + I am her shield; I would that I might prove + How dear I hold the lady of my love. + + + + + + + WHEN thou makest a voyage to the stars, go thou blindfolded; + and carry not a sword, but the sandals of thy youth. + --Egyptian Proverb. + + + SEEK thou the Angel of the Cross Roads ere thou goest upon a + journey, and she will give thee wisdom at the Four Corners. + --Egyptian Proverb. + + + + + + + PISGAH + Behold, now, I have touched the highest point + In my existence. When I turn my eyes + Backward to scan my outlived agonies, + I feel God's finger touch me, to anoint + + With this sweet Present the ungenerous Past, + With love the wounds that struck stark in my soul; + With hope life's aching restlessness and dole; + To show me place to anchor in at last. + + Like to a mother bending o'er the bed + Where sleeps, death-silent, one that left her side + Ere he had reached the flow of manhood's tide, + + So stood I by my life whence Life had fled. + But Life came back at Love's clear trumpet-call, + And at Love's feet I cast the useless pall. + + + + + + + LOVE IS ENOUGH + + It is enough that in this burdened time + The soul sees all its purposes aright. + The rest--what does it matter? Soon the night + Will come to whelm us, then the morning chime. + + What does it matter, if but in the way + One hand clasps ours, one heart believes us true; + One understands the work we try to do, + And strives through Love to teach us what to say? + + Between me and the chilly outer air + Which blows in from the world, there standeth one + Who draws Love's curtains closely everywhere, + + As God folds down the banners of the sun. + Warm is my place about me, and above + Where was the raven, I behold the dove. + + + + + + + AT THE PLAY + + I felt her fan my shoulder touch to-night. + Soft act, faint touch, no meaning did it bear + To any save myself, who felt the air + Of a new feeling cross my soul's clear sight. + + To me what matter that the players played! + They grew upon the instant like the toys + Which dance before the sight of idle boys; + I could not hear the laughter that they made. + + Swept was I on that breath her hand had drawn, + Through the dull air, into a mountain-space, + Where shafts of the bright sun-god interlace, + + Making the promise of a golden dawn. + And straightway crying, "O my heart, rejoice!" + It found its music in my lady's voice. + + + + + + + SO CALM THE WORLD + + Far up the sky the sunset glamour spreads, + Far off the city lies in golden mist; + The sea grows calm, the waves the sun has kissed + Strike white hands softly 'gainst the rocky heads. + + So calm the world, so still the city lies, + So warm the haze that spreads o'er everything; + And yet where, there, Peace sits as Lord and King, + Havoc will reign when next the sun shall rise. + + The wheels pause only for a little space, + And in the pause they gather strength again. + 'Tis but the veil drawn over Labour's face, + + O'er strife, derision, and the sin of men. + My heart with a sweet inner joy o'erflows + To nature's peace, and a kind silence knows. + + + + + + + THE WELCOME + + But see: my lady comes. I hear her feet + Upon the sward; she standeth by my side. + Just such a face Raphael had deified, + If in his day they two had chanced to meet. + + And I, tossed by the tide of circumstance, + Lifting weak hands against a host of swords, + Paused suddenly to hear her gentle words + Making powerless the lightnings of mischance. + + I, who was but a maker of poor songs, + That one might sing behind his prison bars, + I, who it seemed fate singled out for wrongs-- + + She smiled on me as smile the nearest stars. + From her deep soul I draw my peace, and thus, + One wreath of rhyme I weave for both of us. + + + + + + + THE SHRINE + + Were I but as the master souls who move + In their high place, immortal on the earth, + My song might be a thing to crown her worth,-- + 'Tis but a pathway for the feet of Love. + + But since she walks where I am fain to sing, + Since she has said, "I listen, O my friend!" + There is a glory lent the song I send, + And I am proud, yes, prouder than a king. + + I grow to nobler use beneath her eyes-- + Eyes that smile on me so serenely, will + They smile a welcome though my best hope dies, + + And greet me at the summit of the hill? + Will she, for whom my heart has built a shrine, + Take from me all that makes this world divine? + + + + + + + THE TORCH + + Art's use what is it but to touch the springs + Of nature? But to hold a torch up for + Humanity in Life's large corridor, + To guide the feet of peasants and of kings! + + What is it but to carry union through + Thoughts alien to thoughts kindred, and to merge + The lines of colour that should not diverge, + And give the sun a window to shine through! + + What is it but to make the world have heed + For what its dull eyes else would hardly scan, + To draw in a stark light a shameless deed, + + And show the fashion of a kingly man! + To cherish honour, and to smite all shame, + To lend hearts voices, and give thoughts a name! + + + + + + + IN ARMOUR, + + But wherein shall Art work? Shall beauty lead + It captive, and set kisses on its mouth? + Shall it be strained unto the breast of youth, + And in a garden live where grows no weed? + + Shall it, in dalliance with the flaunting world, + Play but soft airs, sing but sweet-tempered songs? + Veer lightly from the stress of all great wrongs, + And lisp of peace 'mid battle-flags unfurled? + + Shall it but pluck the sleeve of wantonness, + And gently chide the folly of our time? + But wave its golden wand at sin's duress, + + And say, "Ah me! ah me!" to fallow crime? + Nay, Art serves Truth, and Truth with Titan blows, + Strikes fearless at all evil that it knows. + + + + + + + IN THEE MY ART + + In thee is all my art; from thee I draw + The substance of my dreams, the waking plan + Of practised thought; I can no measure scan, + But thou work'st in me like eternal law. + + If I were rich in goodly title deeds + Of broad estate, won from posterity; + If from decaying Time I snatched a see + Richer than prelates pray for with their beads; + + If some should bring before me frankincense, + And make a pleasant fire to greet mine eyes; + If there were given me for recompense + + Gifts fairer than a seraph could devise: + I would, my sovereign, kneel to thee and say, + "It all is thine; thou showedst me the way." + + + + + + + DENIAL + + But is it so that I must never kiss + Thee on the brow, or smooth thy silken hair? + Never close down thine eyelids with Love's prayer, + Or fold my arms about my new-found bliss? + + Must I unto the courses of my age + Worship afar, lest haply I profane + The temple that is now my holy fane, + For which my song is given as a gage? + + Shall I who cry to all, "Come not within + The bounds where I my lady have enshrined; + I am her cavalier"; shall I not win + + One dear caress, the rich exchequer find + Of thy soft cheek? If thou command, my lips + Shall find surcease but at thy fingertips. + + + + + + + TESTAMENT + + Why do I love thee? Shall my answer run: + Because that thou hast beauty, noble place, + Because of some sweet glamour in thy face, + And eyes that shame the clear light of the sun? + + Shall I exclaim upon thy snow-white hands, + Challenge the world to show a gentler mien, + Call down the seraphs to attest, the sheen + Upon thy brow is borrowed from their lands? + + Shall I trace out a map of all thy worth, + Parcel thy virtues, say, "For this and this + I learned to love her; here new charms had birth; + + I in this territory caught a bliss"? + Shall I make inventory of thy grace, + And crowd the total into common space? + + + + + + + CAPTIVITY + + Nay, lady, though I love thee, I make pause + Before thy question, and know naught to say; + Art cannot teach me to define the way, + Love led me, nor e'en register Love's cause. + + It can but blazon in this verse of mine + What love does for me; what from Love it gains; + What is its quickening; but it refrains + From divination where thy merits shine. + + Canst thou, indeed, not tell what wrought in thee + To bring me as a captive to thy feet? + Canst thou not say, "'Twas this that made decree + + Of conquest; here thy soul with mine did meet?" + Or is it that both stand amazed before + The shrine where thou hast blessed and I adore? + + + + + + + O MYSTIC WINGS + + O mystic wings, upbear me lightly now, + Beyond life's faithful labour to a seat + Where I can feel the end of things complete, + Where no hot breath of ill can scorch the brow. + + O mystic wings of Art, about thee Truth + Makes atmosphere of purity and power; + 'Tis man's breath kills the spring's soft-petaled flower-- + + Ye give a refuge for the heart of youth. + + Ye give a value for all loss in age, + When feebled eyes search for forgotten springs; + Ye fan the breeze that turns the moulded page, + + And carry back the soul to ardent things. + Poor payment can I give, but here engage + I thee to be Love's airy equipage. + + + + + + + WAS IT THY FACE? + + Was it thy face I saw when, as a child, + Night after night I watched one quiet star + Shine 'tween my curtain and the window-bar + Until I slept, and made my sleep more mild? + + Was it thy influence outreaching then + To me, o'er untrod years, o'er varying days, + To give me courage, as from phase to phase + Of youth's desires I passed to deeds of men? + + Was it because the star was hid awhile, + That I in blindness wandered from my path; + That I wooed Folly with her mumming smile, + + And sought for Lethe in a cup of wrath? + Another hand touched mine with sadness there, + And saved me till I saw thy face appear. + + + + + + + A WOMAN'S HAND + + A woman's hand. Lo, I am thankful now + That with its touch I have walked all my days; + Rising from fateful and forbidden ways, + To find a woman's hand upon my brow; + + Soft as a pad of rose-leaves, and as pure + As upraised palms of angels, seen in dreams: + And soothed by it, to stand as it beseems + A man who strives to conquer and endure. + + A woman's hand!--there is no better thing + Of all things human; it is half divine; + It hath been more to this lame life of mine, + + When faith was weakness, and despair was king. + Man more than all men, Thou wast glad to bless + A woman's sacrifice and tenderness. + + + + + + + ONE FACE I SEE + + One face I see by thine whene'er I hold + Converse with things that are or things that were; + Whene'er I seek life's hidden folds to stir, + And watch the inner to the outer rolled. + + Dost thou not know her, O beloved one? + Hast thou not felt her sunshine on thy face? + In me hast thou not learned some signs to trace + Of that dear soul who calleth me her son? + + Such as I was that in thy countenance + Found favour, from her it was gathered most. + To my mad youth her gentle surveillance + + Was like a watch-fire on a rock-bound coast. + She drew about me motherhood, and thou + Hast with Love's holy chrism touched my brow. + + + + + + + MOTHER + + She gave me courage when I weakly said, + "O see how drifting, derelict, am I! + The tide runs counter, and the wind is high; + I see no channel through the rocks ahead. + + My arm is impotent; what worth to trim + The bending sails! Look, I shall quaff a cup + To Fate, while the wild ocean swallows up + The shipwrecked youth, the man who lives in him." + + She said: "But thou hast valour, dear, too much + For such as this; thou hast grave embassy, + Given with thy birth; would'st thou thine honour smutch + + With coward failing? Dear son, breast the sea." + Firm-purposed from that hour, through wind and wave, + I brought my message till thou shelter gave. + + + + + + + WHEN FIRST I SAW THEE + + When first I saw thee, lady, straightway came + The thought that somehow, somewhere, destiny, + Through blinding paths of happiness or blame, + Would bend my way of life, my soul to thee. + + But then I put it from me: was not I + A wanderer? To-morrow I should be + In other lands-beside another sea; + Nay, you were but a star-gleam in my sky. + + And so I came not in your sight awhile, + You gave no thought, and I passed not away; + But like some traveller in a deep defile + + I walked in darkness even through the day: + Until at last the hands of Circumstance + Pointed the hour that waked me from my trance. + + + + + + + THE FATES LAUGH + + I did not will this thing. I set my face + Towards duty and my art; I was alone. + How knew I thou shouldst roll away the stone + From hopes long buried, by thy tender grace? + + What does it matter that we make resolve? + The Fates laugh at us as they sit and spin; + We cannot tell what Good is, or what Sin, + Or why old faiths in mist of pain dissolve. + + We only can stand watchful in the way, + Waiting with patient hands on shield and sword, + Ready to meet disaster in the fray, + + Till Time has struck the letters of one word-- + Word of such high-born worth: triumphant Love, + Give me thy canopy where'er I rove. + + + + + + + AS ONE WHO WAITETH + + As one who waiteth for the signet ring + Of his dear sovereign, that his embassy + May have clear passport over land and sea, + And make the subject sacred as his king; + + As waits the warrior for a pontiff's palm, + Upraised in blessing o'er his high emprise; + And bows his mailed forehead prayerful-wise, + Sinking his turbulency in deep calm: + + So waited I for one seal to be set + Upon my full commission, for a sign + That should make impotent man's "I forget," + + And make God's "I remember" more divine: + Which should command at need the homage of + The armed squadrons of all loyal love. + + + + + + + THE SEALING + + But yestermorn my marshalled hopes were held + Upon the verge of august pilgrimage; + To-day I am as birds that leave the cage + To seek green fastnesses they knew of eld; + + To-day I am as one who hides his face + Within his golden beaver, and whose hand + Clenches with pride his tried and conquering brand, + Ay, as a hunter mounted for the chase. + + For, see: upon my lips I carry now + A touch that speaks reveille to my soul; + I have a dispensation large enow + + To enfold the world and circumscribe each pole. + Slow let me speak it: From her lips and brow + I took the gifts she only could endow. + + + + + + + THE PLEDGE + + O gifts divine as any ever knew + The noble spirits of an antique time; + As any poets fashion in their rhyme, + Or angels whisper down the shadeless blue! + + The priceless gifts of holy confidence, + That speak through quivering lips from heart to heart; + That unto life new energies impart, + And open up the gates of prescience. + + O dear my love, I unto thee have given + Pledge that I am thy vassal evermore; + I stand within the zenith of my Heaven, + + On either hand a starred eternal shore + I have come nearer to thy greater worth, + For thou hast raised me from the common earth. + + + + + + + LOVE'S TRIBUTARIES + + I can say now, "There was the confluence + Of all Love's tributaries; there the sea + Of Love spread out towards eternity; + And there my coarser touched her finer sense. + + Poor though I am in my own sight, I know + That thou hast winnowed, sweet, what best I am; + Upon my restlessness thy ample calm + Hath fallen as on frost-bound earth the snow. + + It hideth the harsh furrows that the wheels + Of heavy trials made in Life's champaign; + Upon its pure unfolding sunshine steals, + + And there is promise of the spring again. + Here make I proclamation of my faith, + And poise my fealty o'er the head of Death." + + + + + + + THE CHOICE + + If Death should come to me to-night, and say: + "I weigh thy destiny; behold, I give + One little day with this thy love to live, + Then, my embrace; or, leave her for alway, + + And thou shalt walk a full array of years; + Upon thee shall the world's large honours fall, + And praises clamorous shall make for all + Thy strivings rich amends." If in my ears + + Thou saidst, "I love thee!" I would straightway cry, + "A thousand years upon this barren earth + Is death without her: for that day I die, + + And count my life for it of poorest worth." + Love's reckoning is too noble to be told + By Time's slow fingers on its sands of gold. + + + + + + + RECOGNITION + + As in a foreign land one threads his way + 'Mid alien scenes, knowing no face he meets; + And, hearing his name spoken, turns and greets + With wondering joy a friend of other days; + + As in the pause that comes between the sound + And recognition, all the finer sense + Is swathed in a melodious eloquence, + Which makes his name seem in its sweetness drowned + + So stood I, by an atmosphere beguiled + Of glad surprise, when first thy lips let fall + The name I lightly carried when a child, + + That I shall rise to at the judgment call. + The music of thy nature folded round + Its barrenness a majesty of sound. + + + + + + + THE WAY OF DREAMS + + Since I rose out of child-oblivion + I have walked in a world of many dreams, + And noble souls beside the shining streams + Of fancy have with beckonings led me on. + + Their faces oft, mayhap, I could not see, + Only their waving hands and noble forms. + Sometimes there sprang between quick-gathered storms, + But always they came back again to me. + + Women with smiling eyes and star-spun hair + Spake gentle things, bade me look back to view + The deeds of the great souls who climbed the stair + + Immortal, and for whom God's manna grew: + Dante, Anacreon, Euripides, + And all who set rich wine upon the lees. + + + + + + + THE ACCOLADE + + Men of brave stature came and placed their hands + Upon my head, and, lifting shining swords, + Drew through the air signs mightier than words, + And vanished in the sun upon the sands. + + Glimpses I caught of faces that have come + Through crowding ages; whisperings of songs; + And prayers for the redress of human wrongs + From voices that upon the earth are dumb. + + They were but shadows, but they lent me joy; + They gave me reverence for all who pace + The world with hands raised, evil to destroy, + + Who live but for the honour of their race. + They taught me to strike at no idol raised, + Worshipped a space, then left to be dispraised. + + + + + + + FALLEN IDOLS + + Stedfastness, shall we find it, then, at all? + Is it that as the winds blow north and south, + So must be praises from the loud world's mouth, + Which on its heroes in their glory fall? + + Because the voice grows stiller, or the arm + No longer can beat evils back; because + The shoulders sink beneath new-rising cause, + And the fine thought has lost its moving charm; + + Because of these shall puny sages shake + Their heads, and haste to mock the failing one, + Who in his strength could make the nations quake; + + Prophet like Daniel, King like Solomon! + In this full time we have seen mockers run + About the throne of such as Tennyson. + + + + + + + TENNYSON + + Who saith thy hand is weak, King Tennyson? + Who crieth, See, the monarch is grown old, + His sceptre falls? Oh, carpers rude and bold, + You who have fed upon the gracious benison + + Scattered unstinted by him, do you now + Dispraise the sweet-strung harp, grown tremulous + 'Neath fingers overworn for all of us? + You cannot tear the laurels from his brow. + + He lives above your idle vaunts and fears, + Enthroned where all master souls stand up + In their high place, and fill the golden cup, + + God-blest for kings, with wine of endless years, + And greet him one with them. O brotherhood + Of envious dullards, ye are wroth with good. + + + + + + + THE ANOINTED ONES + Why, let them rail! God's full anointed ones + Have heard the world exclaim, "We know you not." + They who by their souls' travailing have brought + Us nearer to the wonder of the suns. + + Yet, who can stay the passage of the stars? + Who can prevail against the thunder-sound? + The wire that flashes lightning to the ground + Diverts, but not its potency debars. + + So, men may strike quick stabs at Caesar's worth,-- + They only make his life an endless force, + 'Scaped from its penthouse, flashing through the earth, + + And 'whelming those who railed about his Gorse. + Men's moods disturb not those born truly great: + They know their end; they can afford to wait. + + + + + + +A LOVER'S DIARY + +By Gilbert Parker + +Volume 2. + + +CONTENTS: + +DREAMS +THE BRIDE +THE WRAITH +SURRENDER +THE CITADEL +MALFEASANCE +ANNUNCIATION +VANISHED DREAMS +INTO THY LAND +DIVIDED +WE MUST LIVE ON +YET LIFE IS SWEET +LOST FOOTSTEPS +THE CLOSED DOOR +THE CHALICE +MIO DESTINO +I HAVE BEHELD +TOO SOON AWAY +THE TREASURE +DAHIN +LOVE'S USURY +THE DECREE +'TIS MORNING NOW +SACRIFICE +SHINE ON +SO, THOU ART GONE +THE THOUSAND THINGS +ONES +THE SEA +THE CHART +REVEALING +OVERCOMING +WHITHER NOW +ARARAT +AS LIGHT LEAPS UP +THE DARKENED WAY +REUNITED +SONG WAS GONE FROM ME +GOOD WAS THE FIGHT +UNCHANGED +ABSOLVO TE +BENEDICTUS +THE MESSAGE +UNAVAILING +YOU SHALL LIVE ON +"VEX NOT THIS GHOST" +THE MEMORY +THE PASSING +ENVOY + + + + + DREAMS + + And so life passed. I lived from year to year + With shadows, the strong warders of desire; + I learned through them to seek the golden fire + That hides itself in Song's bright hemisphere. + + Through them I grew full of imaginings, + I made strange pictures, conjured images + From my deep longings; wrote the passages + Of life inwrought with half-glad wonderings. + + For who can know a majesty of peace, + That wanders, ever waiting for a voice + To say to him, "Behold, at last surcease + + Of thy unrest has come, therefore, rejoice"? + Here set I down some dreams that come again, + Almost forgotten in my higher gain. + + + + + + + THE BRIDE + + A ship at sea; a port to anchor in; + Not far a starry light upon the shore. + The sheeted lightning, like a golden door, + Swings to and fro to let earth-angels in. + + Most bravely has she sailed o'er every sea, + Withstood the storm-rack, spurned the sullen reef; + Cherished her strength; and held her guerdon fief + To him who saith, "My ship comes back to me! + + Behold, I sent her forth a stately thing, + To be my messenger to farthest lands, + To Fortunate Isles, and where the silver sands + + Girdle a summer sea; that she might bring + My bride, who wist not that I loved her so-- + This is no bitter day for me, I trow!" + + + + + + + THE WRAITH + + A ship in port; well-crossed the harbour-bar; + The hawser swung, the grinding helm at rest; + Hands clasping hands, and eyes with eager zest + Seeking the loved, returning from afar. + + And he, the master, holding little reck + Of all, save but the idol of his soul, + Seeks not his loving ardour to control. + Mark how he proudly treads the whitened deck! + + "My bride, my bride, my lone soul's best beloved, + Come forth, come forth! Where art thou, Isobel?-- + Pallid, and wan! Lord, hath it thus befell + + This is but dust; where has the spirit roved? + O death-cold bride! for this, then, have I strove? + O phantom ship, O loveless wraith of Love!" + + + + + + SURRENDER + + A day of sunshine in a land of snow, + And a soft-curtained room, where ruddy flakes + Of fame fall free, in liquid light that slakes + The soft desire of one cold, paleface: lo, + + Close-pressed sweet lips, and eyes of violet, + That are filled up as with a sudden fear-- + A storm's prelude upon the expectant mere. + Yet deep behind what never they forget, + + Who ever see in life's chance or mischance. + And he who saw, what could he do but say, + "Fold up the tents; the camp is struck; away! + + Vain victor who rides not in rest his lance!" + Beside the hearthstone where the flame-flakes fell, + There lay the cold keys of the citadel. + + + + + + THE CITADEL + + A night wind-swept and bound about with blee + Of Erebus; all light and cheer within; + White restless hands that falter, then begin + To weave a music-voiced fantasy. + + And life, and death, and love, and weariness, + And unrequital, thrid the maze of sound; + And one voice saith, "Behold, the lost is found!" + And saith not any more for joyfulness. + + Out of the night there comes a wanderer, + Who waits upon the threshold, and is still; + And listens, and bows down his head, until + + His grief-drawn breath startles the heart of her. + The victor vanquished, at her feet he fell, + A prisoner in his conquered citadel. + + + + + + + MALFEASANCE + + Two of one name; they standing where the sun + Makes shadows in the orchard-bloom of spring; + She holding in her palm a jewelled ring, + He speaking on what evil it had done. + + "Raise thy pale face and wondrous eyes to mine; + Let not thy poor lips quiver in such pain; + Too young and blindly thou hast drunk the wine + Crushed from the lees of love. Be strong again. + + Trail back thy golden hair from thy broad brow, + And raise thy lily neck like some tall tower, + That recks not any strife nor any hour, + + So it but holds its height, heeding not how. + The noblest find their way o'er paths of ire + To the clear summit of God's full desire." + + + + + + + ANNUNCIATION + + I think in that far time when Gabriel came + And gave short speech to Mary sweet and wise, + That when the faint fear faded from her eyes, + And they were filled up with a sudden flame + + Of joy bewildering and wonderment; + With reverence the angel in her palm + Laid one white lily, dewy with the balm + Of the Lord's garden; saying: "This is sent + + For thine espousal, thou the undefiled; + And it shall bloom till all be consummate." + Lo, then he passed. She, musing where she sate, + + Felt all her being moved in manner wondrous mild; + Then, laying 'gainst her bosom the white flower, + She bowed her head, and said, "It is God's dower." + + + + + + + VANISHED DREAMS + + Dreams, only dreams. They sprang from loneliness + Of outer life; from innermost desire + To reach the soul that now in golden fire + Of cherished song I pray for and caress. + + I wandered through the world with longing gaze, + To find her who was my hope's parallel, + That to her I might all my gospel tell + Of changeless love, and bid her make appraise. + + I knew that some day I should look within + The ever-deepening distance of her eyes; + For, in my dreams, from veiled Seraphim + + Came one, as if in answer to my cries: + And passing near me, pointed down the road + That led me at the last to thy abode. + + + + + + + INTO THY LAND + + Into thy land of sunlight I have come, + And live within thy presence, as a ray + Of light lives in the brightness of the day; + And find in thee my heaven and my home. + + Yet what am I that thou shouldst ope the gate + Of thy most sweet completeness; and should spend + Rich values of thy life on me thy friend, + For which I have no worthy duplicate! + + Nay, lady, I no riches have to give; + I have no name of honour, or the pride + Of place, to priv'lege me to sit beside + + Thee in thy kingdom, where thy graces live. + Wilt thou not one day whisper, "You have climbed + Beyond your merits; pray you, fall behind"? + + + + + + + Wish thy friend joy of his journey, but pray in secret + that he have no joy, for then may he return quickly to thee. + --Egyptian Proverb. + + + + + + + DIVIDED + + Divided by no act of thine or mine, + Forever parted by a fatal deed, + A fatal feud. Alas! when fathers bleed, + The children shall fulfil the wild design. + + A Montague hath killed a Capulet, + A Capulet hath slain a Montague,-- + Twin graves, twin sorrows, and oh, mad to-do + Of vengeance! oh, dread entail of regret! + + There lie they in their dark, self-chosen graves, + And from them cries Hate's everlasting ghost,-- + "Blood hath been shed, and Love and ye are slaves, + + Time wrecks, and freedom drifts upon life's coast." + Yet not for us the relish of that doom + Which found a throne upon a Juliet's tomb. + + + + + + + WE MUST LIVE ON + + We must live on; a deeper tragedy: + To see, to touch, to know, and to desire; + To feel in every vein the glorious fire + Of Eden, and to cry, "Oh, to be free!" + + To cry, "Oh, wipe the gloomy stain away, + Thou who first raised the sword, Who gave the hilt + Into the hand of man. This blood they spilt-- + Our fathers--oh, blot out the bitter day! + + Erase the hour from out Thy calendar, + Turn back the hands upon the clock of Time, + Oh, Artificer of destroying War-- + + Their righteous hate who bore us in our crime!" + "Upon the children!"--'Tis the cold reply + Of Him who makes to those who must not die. + + + + + + + YET LIFE IS SWEET + + Yet life is sweet. Thy soul hath breathed along, + Thine eyes have cast their glory on the earth, + Thy foot hath touched it, and thine hour of birth + Didst give a new pulse to the veins of song. + + Better to stand amid the toppling towers + Of every valiant hope; a Samson's dream, + Than the deep indolence of Lethe's stream, + The loneliness of slow submerging hours. + + Better, oh, better thus to see the wreck, + And to have rocked to motion of the spheres; + Better, oh, better to have trod the deck + + Of hope, and sailed the unmanageable years- + Ay, better to have paid the price, and known, + Than never felt this tyrannous Alone! + + + + + + + LOST FOOTSTEPS + + Upon the disc of Love's bright planet fell + A darkness yestereve, and from your lips + I heard cold words; then came a swift eclipse + Of joy at meeting on hope's it-is-well. + + And if I spoke with sadness and with fear; + If from your gentle coldness I drew back, + And felt that I had lost the flowery track + That led to peace in Love's sweet atmosphere: + + It was because a woful dread possessed. + My aching heart--the dread some evil star + Had crossed the warm affection in your breast, + + Had bade me stand apart from where you are. + The world seemed breaking on my life; I heard + The crash of sorrows in that chiding word. + + + + + + + THE CLOSED DOOR + + It is not so, and so for evermore, + That thou and I must live our lives apart; + I with a patient smother at my heart, + And thy hand resting on a closed door? + + What couldst thou ever ask me that I should + Not bend me to achieve thy high behest? + What cannot men achieve with lance in rest + Who carry noble valour in their blood? + + And some nobility of high emprise, + Lady, couldst thou make possible in me; + If living 'neath the pureness of thy eyes, + + I found the key to inner majesty; + And reaching outward, heart-strong, from thy hand, + Set here and there a beacon in the land. + + + + + + + THE CHALICE + + Not by my power alone, but thou and I + Together thinking, working, loving on + Achievement-wards, as all brave souls have gone, + Perchance should find new star-drifts in the sky + + That curves above humanity, and set + Some new interpretation on life's page; + Should serve the strivings of a widening age, + And fashion wisdom from the social fret. + + Deep did Time's lances go; thou pluck'st them forth, + And on my sullen woundings laid the balm + Of thy life's sweetness. Oh, let my love be worth + + The keeping. My head beneath thy palm, + Once more I lift Love's chalice to thine eyes: + Not till thou blessest me will I arise. + + + + + + + MIO DESTINO + + Here, making count, at every step I see + Something in her, like to a hidden thought + Within my life, that long time I had sought, + But never found till her soul spoke to me. + + And if she said a thousand times, "I did + Not call thee, thou cam'st seeking; not my voice + Was it thou heard'st; thy love was not my choice!" + I should straightway reply, "That of thee hid, + + Even from thyself, lest it should startle thee, + Hath called me, made me slave and king in one; + And when the mists of Time shall rise, and we + + Stand forth, it shall be said, Since Time begun + Ye two were called as one from that high hill, + Where the creating Master hath His will." + + + + + + + I HAVE BEHELD + + I have beheld a multitude stand still + In such deep silence that a sudden pain + Struck through the heart in sharing the tense strain, + And all the world seemed bounded by one will. + + But when precipitated on the sea + Of human feeling was the incident + That caught their wonder; then the skies were rent + With quivering sound, with passion's liberty. + + So have I stood before this parting day, + With chilly fingers pressed upon my breast, + That my heart burst not fleshen bands away, + + And my sharp cry break through my lady's rest. + I have shut burning eyelids on the sight + Of this dread time that scorches my sad night. + + + + + + + TOO SOON AWAY + + Have I then found thee but to lose thee, friend? + But touched thee ere thou vanished from my gaze? + And when my soul is struggling from the maze + Of many conflicts, must our converse end? + + Across the empty space that now shall spread + Between us, shall I never go to thee? + Or thou, beloved, never come to me, + Save but to whisper prayers above the dead? + + Ah, cruel thought! Shall not Hope's convoy bear + To thee the reinforcements of my love? + Shall I not on thy white hand drop a tear + + Of crowned joy, one day, where thou dost move + In thy place regally; even as now + I place my farewell token on thy brow? + + + + + + + THE TREASURE + + And now when from the shore goes out the ship + Wherein is set the treasure that I hold + Closer than miser all his hidden gold, + Dearer than wine Zeus carried to his lip; + + My aching heart cries from its pent-up pain,-- + "O Love, O Life, O more than life to me, + How can I live without the surety + Of thy sweet presence till we meet again!" + + So like a wounded deer I came to thee, + The arrow of mischance piercing my side; + And through thy sorrow-healing ministry + + I rose with strength, like giants in their pride. + But now--but now--how shall I stand alone, + Knowing the light, the hope of me is gone? + + + + + + + DAHIN + + O brow, so fronted with a stately calm, + O full completeness of true womanhood, + O counsel, pleader for all highest good, + Thou hast upon my sorrow poured thy balm! + + Poor soldier he who did not raise his sword, + And, touching with his lips the hilt-cross, swear + In war or peace the livery to wear + Of one that blessed him with her queenly word. + + Most base crusader, who at night and morn + Crying Dahin, thought not of her again + From whose sweet power was his knighthood born, + + For whom he quells the valiant Saracen. + Shall I not, then, in the tumultuous place + Of my life's warfare ever seek thy face? + + + + + + + LOVE'S USURY + + Here count I over all the gentle deeds + Which thou hast done; here summon I thy words, + Sweeter to me than sweetest song of birds; + That came like grace immortal to my needs. + + Love's usury has reckoned such a sum + Of my indebtedness, that I can make + No lien large enough to overtake + Its value--and before it I am dumb! + + Yet, O my gracious, most kind creditor, + I would not owe to thee one item less + We cannot give the sun requital for + + Its liberal light; our office is to bless. + If blessings could be compassed by my prayer, + High heaven should set star-gems in thy hair. + + + + + + + THE DECREE + + Last night I saw the warm white Southern moon + Sail upward through a smoky amber sea; + Orion stood in silver majesty + Where the gold-girdled sun takes rest at noon. + + I slept; I dreamed. Against a sunset sky + I saw thee stand all garmented in white; + With hand stretched to me, and there in thy sight + I went to meet thee; but I heard thee cry: + + "We stand apart as sun from shining sun; + Thou hast thy place; there rolleth far and near + A sea between; until life's all be done + + Thou canst not come, nor I go to thee, dear." + Methought I bowed my head to thy decree, + And donned the mantle of my misery. + + + + + + + 'TIS MORNING NOW + + 'Tis morning now, and dreams and fears are gone, + And sleep has calmed the fever in my veins, + And I am strong to drink the cup that drains + The last drop through my lips, and make no moan. + + Strength I have borrowed from the outward show + Of spiritual puissance thou dost wear. + Shall I not thy high domination share + Over the shock of feeling? Shall I grow + + More fearful than the soldier, when between + The smoke of hostile cannon lies his way; + To carry far the colours of his queen, + + While her bright eyes behold him in the fray? + Here do I smile between the warring hosts + Of sad farewells; and reek not what it costs. + + + + + + + SACRIFICE + + And O most noble, and yet once again + Most noble spirit, if I ever did + Aught that thy goodness frowns on, be it hid + Forever, and deep-buried. Let the rain + + Of coming springs fall on the quiet grave. + Perchance some violets will grow to tell + That I, when uttering this last farewell, + Built up a sacrificial architrave; + + That I, who worship thee, have love so great, + To live in the horizon thou may'st set; + To stand but in the shadow of the gate, + + Faithful, when coward promptings cry, "Forget." + Ah, lady, when I gave my heart to thee, + It passed into thy lifelong regency. + + + + + + + SHINE ON + + Shine on, O sun! Sing on, O birds of song! + And in her light my heart fashions a tune + Not wholly sad, most like a tender rune + Sung by some knight in days gone overlong, + + When he with minstrel eyes in Syrian grove + Looked out towards his England, and then drew + From a sweet instrument a sound that grew + From twilight unto morning of his love. + + Go, then, beloved, bearing as you go + These songs that have more sunlight far than cloud; + More summer flowers than dead leaves 'neath the snow; + + That tell of hopes from which you raised the shroud. + My lady, bright benignant star, shine on-- + + I lift to thee my low Trisagion! + + + + + + + HE that hath pleasant dreams is more fortunate + than one who hath a cup-bearer. + --Egyptian Proverb. + + + + + + + SO, THOU ART GONE + + So, thou art gone; and I am left to wear + Thy memory as a golden amulet + Upon my breast, to sing a chansonnette + Of winter tones, when summer time is here. + + And yet, my heart arises from the dark, + Where it fell back in silence when you went + To seaward, and a sprite malevolent + Sat laughing in the white sails of thy barque. + + 'Twas not moth-wings dashing against the flame, + Burning in love's areanum; 'twas a cry + Struck from soul-crossing chords, that, separate, frame + + Life's holy calm, or wasting agony. + But now between the warring strings there grows + A space of peace, as 'tween truce-honoured foes. + + + + + + + THE THOUSAND THINGS + + Here one by one come back the thousand things + Which made divinely sweet our intercourse; + Love summons them here straightway to divorce + The heart from melancholy wanderings. + + "Here laid she her white hand upon my arm; + To this place came she with slow-gliding grace; + Here smiled she up serenely in my face; + And these sweet notes she sang me for a charm." + + I treasure up her words, and say them o'er + With close-shut eyes; with her again I float + Upon the Loire; I see the gems she wore, + + The ruby shining at her queenly throat; + I climb with her again the Pyrenees, + And hear her laughter ringing through the trees. + + + + + + + THE SEA + + I in my childhood never saw the sea + Save in my dreams. There it was vast and lone, + Splendid in power, breaking against the stone + Walls of the world in thunder symphony. + + From it arose mists growing into mists + Making a cool white curtain for the sun, + And melting mornward when the day was done, + A moving sphere where spirits kept their trysts. + + A ceaseless swinging with the swinging earth, + A never-tiring ebbing to and fro, + Trenching eternal fastnesses; a girth + + Round mountains in their everlasting snow. + It was a vast emotion, fibre-drawn + From all the elements since the first dawn. + + + + + + + THE CHART + + Then came in further years the virgin sight + Of the live sea; the sea that marches down, + With sunny phalanxes and flags of foam, + To match its puissance with earth's awful might. + + Far off the purple mist drew into mist, + As thought melts into endless thought, and round + The rim of the sheer world was heard a sound, + Floating through palpitating amethyst. + + And through the varying waste of elements + There passed a sail, which caught the opposing wind, + Triumphant, as an army in its tents + + Beholds the foe it, conquering, left behind. + "And Life," I said,--"Life is but like the sea; + And what shall guide us to our destiny?" + + + + + + + REVEALING + + The prescience of dreams struck walls away + From mortal fact, and mortal fact revealed, + With myriad voices, potencies concealed + In the dim birth-place of a coming day. + + Even as a blind man's fingers wander o'er + His harpstrings, led by sound to dreams of sound, + Till in his soul an eloquence profound + Rises above the petulance and roar + + Of the great globe: as in a rush of song + From feathered throats, one, in a mighty wood, + 'Mid sweet interpositions moves along + + The avenues of some predestined good; + So I, dream-nurtured, standing by the sea, + Made levy on the wonders that should be. + + + + + + + OVERCOMING + + And God is good, I said, and Art is good, + And labour hath its rich reward of sleep; + And recompense will come for all who keep + Dishonour's ill contagion from the blood. + + And over us there curves the infinite + Blue heaven as a shield, and at the end + We shall find One who loveth to befriend + E'en those who faint for shame within His sight. + + And down the awful passes of the sky + There comes the voice that circumvents the gale; + That makes the avalanche to pass us by, + + And saith, "I overcome" to man's "I fail." + "And peradventure now," said I, "the zest + Of all existence waits on His behest." + + + + + + + WHITHER NOW + + But man's deliverances intervene + Between the soul's swift speech and God's high will; + That saith to tempests of the thought, "Be still!" + And in life's lazaretto maketh clean + + The leprous sense. Ah, who can find his way + Among the many altars? Who can call + Out perfect peace from any ritual, + Or shelter find in systems of a day? + + As one sees on some ancient urn, upthrown + From out a tomb, records that none may read + With like interpretation, and the stone + + Retains its graven fealty to the dead: + So, on the great palimpsest men have writ + Such lines o'ercrossed that none interprets it. + + + + + + + ARARAT + + What marvel that the soul of youth should cry, + "Man builds his temples 'tween me and the face + Of Him whom I would seek; I cannot trace + His purpose in their shadow, nor descry + + The wisdom absolute?" What marvel that, + With yearning impotent, ay, impotent + Beyond all measure! his full faith was spent, + And for his soul there rose no Ararat? + + Yet out upon the sun-drawn sensate sea + Of elemental pain, there came a word + As if from Him who travelled Galilee, + + As fair as any Zion ever heard. + The voice of Love spoke; Love, that writes its name + On Life and Death-and then my lady came. + + + + + + + AS LIGHT LEAPS UP + + As light leaps up from star to star, so mounts + Faith from one soul unto another; so + The lower to the higher; till the flow + Of knowledge rises from creation's founts; + + Until from human love we come to know + The august presence of the Love Divine; + And feel the light unutterable shine + Upon half-lights that we were wont to show, + + Absorbing them. 'Tis Love that beckons us + From low desires, from restlessness and sin, + To heights that else we had not reached; and thus + + We find the Heaven we dared not hope to win. + How clearer seem designs immortal when + Our lives are fed on Love's fine regimen + + + + + + + THE DARKENED WAY + + "It is no matter;"--thus the noble Dane, + About his heart more ill than one could tell; + Sad augury, that like a funeral bell + Against his soul struck solemn notes of pain. + + So 'gainst the deadly smother he could press + With calm his lofty manhood; interpose + Purpose divine, and at the last disclose + For life's great shift a regnant readiness. + + To-day I bought some matches in the street + From one whose eyes had long since lost their sight. + Trembling with palsy was he to his feet. + + "Father," I said, "how fare you in the night?" + "In body ill, but 'tis no matter, friend, + Strong is my soul to keep me to the end." + + + + + + + DISTRUST not a woman nor a king--it availeth nothing. + --Egyptian Proverb. + + WHEN thou journeyest into the shadows, take not sweetmeats + with thee, but a seed of corn and a bottle of tears and wine; + that thou mayst have a garden in the land whither thou goeat. + --Egyptian Proverb. + + + + + + + REUNITED + + Once more, once more! That golden eventide! + Golden within, without all cold and grey, + Slowly you came forth from the troubled day, + Singing my heart--you glided to my side; + + You glided in; the same grave, quiet face, + The same deep look, the never-ending light + In your proud eyes, eyes shining through the night, + That night of absence--distance--from your place. + + Calm words, slow touch of hand, but, oh, the cry, + The long, long cry of passion and of joy + Within my heart; the star-burst in the sky-- + + The world--our world--which time may not destroy! + Your world and mine, unutterably sweet: + Dearest, once more, the old song at thy feet. + + + + + + + SONG WAS GONE FROM ME + + Dearest, once more! This I could tell and tell + Till life turned drowsy with the ceaseless note; + Dearest, once more! The words throb in my throat, + My heart beats to them like a muffled bell. + + Change--Time and Change! O Change and Time, you come + Not knocking at my door, knowing me gone; + Here have I dwelt within my heart alone, + Watching and waiting, while my muse was dumb + + Song was gone from me--sweet, I could not sing, + Save as men sing upon the lonely hills; + Under my hand the old chord ceased to ring, + + Hushed by the grinding of the high gods' mills. + Dearest, once more. Those mad mills had their way-- + Now is mine hour. To every man his day. + + + + + + + GOOD WAS THE FIGHT + + How have I toiled, how have I set my face + Fair to the swords! No man could say I quailed; + Ne'er did I falter; I dare not to have failed, + I dare not to have dropped from out the race. + + Good was the fight--good, till a piteous dream + Crept from some direful covert of despair; + Showed me your look, that look so true and fair, + Distant and bleak; for me no more to gleam. + + Then was I driven back upon my soul, + Then came dark moments; lady, then I drew + Forth from its place the round unfathomed bowl + + Of sorrow, and from it I quaffed to you; + Speaking as men speak who have lost + Their hearts' last prize--and dare not count the cost. + + + + + + + UNCHANGED + + But you are here unchanged. You say not so + In words, but when you placed your hands in mine; + But when I saw the same old glory shine + Within your eyes, I read it; and I know. + + And when those hands ran up along my arm, + And rested on my shoulder for a space, + A sacred inquisition in your face, + To read my heart, how could I doubt that charm, + + That truth ineffable!--I set my soul + In hazard to a farthing, that you kept + The faith, with pride unspeakable, the whole + + Course of those years in which communion slept. + Your soul flamed in your look; you read; I knew + How little worth was I, how heavenly you. + + + + + + + ABSOLVO TE + + I read your truth. You read--What did you read? + Did you read all, and, reading all, forgive? + How I--O little dwarf of conscience sieve + My soul; bare all before her bare indeed! + + And, looking on the remnant and the waste, + Can you absolve me,--me, the doubter, one + Who challenged what God spent His genius on, + His genius and His pride; so fair, so chaste? + + I am ashamed. . . . And when I told my dreams, + Shaken and humble,--"Dear, there was no cause," + Your words; proud, sorrowful, as it beseems + + Such as thou art. There never was a cause + Why you should honour me. Ashamed am I. + And you forgive me, bless me, for reply. + + + + + + + BENEDICTUS + + You bless me, then you turn away your head-- + "Never again, dear. I have blessed you so, + My lips upon your lips; between must flow + The river--Oh the river!" Thus you said. + + The river--Oh the river, and the sun; + Stream that we may not cross, sun that is joy: + Flow as thou must; shine on in full employ-- + Shine through her eyes thou; let the river run. + + O lady, to your liegeman speak. You say: + "Dream no more dreams; yourself be as am I" + Your hands clasped to your face, so shutting out the day. + + An instant, then to me, your low good-bye-- + Good-night, good-bye; and then the social reign, + The lights, the songs, the flowers--and the pain. + + + + + + + THE MESSAGE + + "Oh, hush!" you said; "oh, hush!" The twilight hung + Between us and the world; but in your face, + Flooding with warm inner light, the sovereign grace + Of one who rests the brooding trees among-- + + Of one who steps down from a lofty throne, + Seeking that peace the sceptre cannot call; + And leaving courtier, page, and seneschal, + Goes down the lane of sycamores alone; + + And, going, listens to the notes that swell + From golden throats--stories of ardent days, + And lovers in fair vales; and homing bell: + + And the sweet theme unbearable, she prays + The song-bird cease! So, on the tale I dare, + Your "hush!" your wistful "hush!" broke like prayer. + + + + + + + UNAVAILING + + "Never," you said, "never this side the grave, + And what shall come hereafter, who may know? + Whether we e'en shall guess the way we go, + Passing beneath Death's mystic architrave + + Silence or song, dumb sleep or cheerful hours?" + O lady, you have questioned, answer too. + You--you to die--silence and gloom for you: + Dead song, dead lights, dead graces, and dead flowers? + + It is not so: the foolish trivial end, + The inconsequent paltry Nothing--gone--gone all; + The genius of the ageless Something spend + + Itself within this little earthly wall: + The commonplace conception, that we reap + Reward of drudge and ploughman--idle sleep! + + + + + + + YOU SHALL LIVE ON + + You shall live on triumphant, you shall take + Your place among the peerless, fearless ones; + And those who loved you here shall tell their sons + To honour every woman for your sake. + + And those your Peers shall say, "Others are pure, + Others are noble, others too have vowed, + And for a vow have suffered; but she bowed + Her own soul and another's to endure. + + She smote the being more to her than all,-- + Her own soul and the world,--a truth to hold, + Faith with the dead; and hung a heavy pall + + 'Tween her and love and life. The world is old, + It hath sent here none queenlier. Of the few, + The royal few is she, martyred and true." + + + + + + + "VEX NOT THIS GHOST" + + Upon the rack of this tough world I hear, + As when Cordelia's glories all dissever- + "Never--never--never--never--never,--" + That wild moan of the dispossessed Lear. + + O world, vex not this ghost, yea, let it pass, + The Spirit of these songs. The fool hath mocked, + The fool our woe upon us hath unlocked + From where the soul holds to our lips the glass, + + To see what breath of life. O fool, poor fool, + Well, we have laughed together, you and I. + O fond insulter, in the healing pool + + Of your deep poignant raillery I lie. + Let us be grand again, my fool. The throne + Is gone; but see, the coronation stone! + + + + + + + THE MEMORY + + Know you where I, my royal fool, was crowned? + A rock within the great Egean? Where + A strong flood hurrieth on Finistere? + Where at the Pole our valiant men were drowned? + + Where the soft creamy wash of Indian seas + Spreads palmward? Where the sunset glides to dawn, + No night between? Where all the tides are drawn + To greet their Sun and bathe their Idol's knees? + + Where was I crowned? Dear fool, upon a stone + That standeth where Earth's arches make but one, + Where all the banners of her soul were flown, + + And trumpeted the legions of the sun. + The stone is left: 'tis here against the door + Of throne and kingdom. . . . Pray you, mock no more. + + + + + + + THE PASSING + + A time will come when we again shall rail-- + Not yet, not yet. The flood comes on apace, + That deep dividing river, and her face + Grows dimmer as it widens--pale, so pale. + + Have we not railed and laughed these many days, + Mummers before the lights? Dear fool, your hand + Upon your lips--Oh let us once be grand, + Grand as we were when treading royal ways. + + Lo, there she moves beyond the river. Gone-- + Gone is the sun-lo, starlight in her eyes. + See, how she standeth silent and alone-- + + Oh, hush! let us not vex her with our cries. + Proud as of old, unto my throne I go. . . . + Cordelia's gone...... Hush, draw the curtain--so. + + + + + + + ENVOY + + When you and I have played the little hour, + Have seen the tall subaltern Life to Death + Yield up his sword; and, smiling, draw the breath, + The first long breath of freedom; when the flower + + Of Recompense has fluttered to our feet, + As to an actor's; and the curtain down, + We turn to face each other all alone-- + Alone, we two, who never yet did meet, + + Alone, and absolute, and free: oh, then, + Oh, then, most dear, how shall be told the tale? + Clasped hands, pressed lips, and so clasped hands again; + + No words. 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