Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
 |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
BEAUTIFUL FOE. |
|
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
277
BEAUTIFUL FOE.
Home of great thoughts, without, within,
A Voice I cannot smother,
Beautiful Foe and Brother,
Unmarked but not unmoved by sin
And to my every pulse akin,
Myself and yet Another!
A Voice I cannot smother,
Beautiful Foe and Brother,
Unmarked but not unmoved by sin
And to my every pulse akin,
Myself and yet Another!
The Maker and the Creature, mine,
So near and yon blue distance
Too far to be assistance!
But still Thy tendrils round me twine
Most human Thou and most divine,
Unseen but felt Existence.
So near and yon blue distance
Too far to be assistance!
But still Thy tendrils round me twine
Most human Thou and most divine,
Unseen but felt Existence.
Ah, from a Baby Thou hast grown
With me to riper graces,
And taken tiny paces
That trembled dearly with my own;
Familiar still while all unknown,
And everywhere Thy traces.
With me to riper graces,
And taken tiny paces
That trembled dearly with my own;
Familiar still while all unknown,
And everywhere Thy traces.
Unutterably grand and vast,
Without a touch or tittle
Of flaw, yet to a brittle
Poor reed that quivers in the blast
A Fellow-Sufferer to the last,
Magnificently little.
Without a touch or tittle
Of flaw, yet to a brittle
Poor reed that quivers in the blast
A Fellow-Sufferer to the last,
Magnificently little.
Thy rays from each remoter star
Fall on me, and Thy savour
Of mercy, lends a favour
Like jewels to the shameful scar;
And Thou art portal, and the bar
With prison's iron flavour.
Fall on me, and Thy savour
Of mercy, lends a favour
Like jewels to the shameful scar;
And Thou art portal, and the bar
With prison's iron flavour.
The colour of the rose's bloom,
Is but Thy Face's blushing;
And in the mother's hushing
That rocks her infant, Thou hast room;
And in the horror and the gloom,
I hear Thy fountains gushing.
Is but Thy Face's blushing;
And in the mother's hushing
That rocks her infant, Thou hast room;
And in the horror and the gloom,
I hear Thy fountains gushing.
278
Thou art my Master and my Slave,
Who grantest me the vision
Turned only to derision;
Thou doest more than all I crave,
Alike the cradle and the grave
Of every high decision.
Who grantest me the vision
Turned only to derision;
Thou doest more than all I crave,
Alike the cradle and the grave
Of every high decision.
Thy riches are my own, and still
From Thee I always borrow;
Thou art the joy and sorrow,
Whereby with faltering hands I fill
The measured cup of good and ill,
O never-coming Morrow.
From Thee I always borrow;
Thou art the joy and sorrow,
Whereby with faltering hands I fill
The measured cup of good and ill,
O never-coming Morrow.
The Truth, and yet the hidden Heart
Of fairest dreams and fictions;
Bright Presence in afflictions,
And yet most terribly apart
When buried lusts like ghosts upstart,
Sum of all contradictions.
Of fairest dreams and fictions;
Bright Presence in afflictions,
And yet most terribly apart
When buried lusts like ghosts upstart,
Sum of all contradictions.
My Heavenly Father, and the Child
Of these exalted fancies,
The rapture of romances;
A blushing Furnace, and a mild
Dim Shadow shed on passions wild
And warring circumstances.
Of these exalted fancies,
The rapture of romances;
A blushing Furnace, and a mild
Dim Shadow shed on passions wild
And warring circumstances.
Dear Adversary and the Friend
To whom I fly from sinning;
Lost in each selfish winning,
And gained when lavishly I spend;
The Light, the Night, the glorious End
And ever-new Beginning.
To whom I fly from sinning;
Lost in each selfish winning,
And gained when lavishly I spend;
The Light, the Night, the glorious End
And ever-new Beginning.
The whole and Part of every fact
Or thought, my Bane and Blessing;
For wrong the sure Redressing,
And breathing through the simplest act
O Life of every mortal pact,
Death is but Thy caressing.
Or thought, my Bane and Blessing;
For wrong the sure Redressing,
And breathing through the simplest act
O Life of every mortal pact,
Death is but Thy caressing.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |