The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| SONNETS
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
147
SONNETS
(1882)
149
SONNET I
MARY MAGDALENE
Of all high crowns and sweet the green earth gave,
Or the still height of Galilean air,
Or white Jerusalem that shone so fair,
Or blue Gennesaret with rippling wave,
Not one was sweet or high or winged to save
As hers who flooded with repentant hair
Christ's feet, and brought the ointment soft and rare
Of her own broken heart,—as “for his grave.”
So she first saw him when his spirit rose:—
And through all time, through scene on changing scene,
Who is there, knowing Christ, but also knows
The soiled heart made by soul-deep sorrow clean?
Aye! half his deathless halo Jesus owes
To the harlot: gold-haired Mary Magdalene.
150
SONNET II
TO IRELAND
O Ireland, Ireland,—yet we love thee well!—
Lo! thy green meadows are made foul with red
Blood-stains by thine own sons' mad folly shed;
The land was heavenlike: thou hast made it hell.
Thou hast set murder on the lonely fell,
And filled the night with shadows of the dead,
And made the moonlight shudder at the tread
Of monstrous deeds too horrible to tell.
And this is love of Ireland! Pause and think.
Would not your love on nobler pinions soar
If it were taught from cowardly crimes to shrink,—
Murder to hate, injustice to abhor?
Ye your own chains are forging link by link,
And barring on yourselves your prison-door.
151
SONNET III
A SON TO A MOTHER
Ah! mother, hadst thou died when I was young
I could not then have borne it. Then my eyes
Would have lost sight of thee within vague skies:
My youth would chiefliest of all shafts have stung.
I should have seen the far blue hill-tops rise
Peak above peak,—and to the lowest rung
Of the celestial stair I should have clung
Hopeless; or hoping but with wild surmise.
But, now that I am old, I feel so near
Thy dwelling. “Soon” I say with humble glee
“The day will come when I shall follow thee.
Thy country on my vision rises clear;
The whispers of its summer winds I hear;
Its populous streets I very soon shall see.”
152
SONNET IV
IN VENICE
What sound is this that soundeth through the night,
Like falling drops upon the marble floor,
In Venice?—“Doth some tender goddess pour
Dew from her finger-tips,—or sheds she bright
Rose-leaves in showers upon the marble white,—
Or is it but the plash of passing oar?”
The sleeping husband wondered. Evermore
The drops fell tinkling: many and soft and light.
He woke, and stretched out hand, and it was wet
When he withdrew it. Then upright he sprang!
Half-naked, white and stabbed, with hair like jet,
His true wife lay. A woman's footstep rang
Far-off.—Oh, horror! Stabbed in her young bloom?
Yes. And the worst thing was, he guessed by whom.
153
SONNET V
GOD AND WOMAN
God made a woman,—and he gazed aghast
For very wonder. There she stood quite white,—
Naked and perfect. In the golden light
Before him like a carven dream she passed.
Her black hair gleamed against her shoulder bright;
Backward, as ever, one quick look she cast:
God watched her slowly vanish, till at last
The pure superb shape glimmered out of sight.
“Now do I for the first time envy Man”
He said. “The woman never will be mine;”
Those dark thick tresses darker than the pine
And sweeter than the rose,—that body wan
And soft and scented like the dim woodbine,—
I cannot own for ever:—but he can.”
154
SONNET VI
FORSAKEN
Shall thy divineness wither, woman fair
Set in the midst of lonely desert days?
Dost thou lift up to heaven thy weary gaze
Yet see nought round thee but the void blue air?
Have no soft lips of lover kissed thine hair?
Hath thine hand never toyed with myrtle sprays?
Hast thou not wandered by the green-blue bays
In summer, full of dreams no heart could share?
Oh, it were sin to leave thee blossoming so—
Alone, unplucked, unloved:—as great a sin
As to pass by some lily set within
A jungle,—where with heavy gait and slow
The loveless monstrous beasts lurch to and fro,
Piercing the rush-beds with their gaze unclean.
155
SONNET VII
“GOD LOVES ALL THINGS”
God loves all things. Yes, even the spotted snake,—
The lion and tiger, and the bird of prey;
The spider's white web hanging o'er the way;
The pike who lurks within the weedy lake;
The leopard sidling through the tangled brake;
The shark who spots with blood the Southern bay;
The gnats who muster at the close of day;—
Can God who made, relinquish or forsake?
One day the tiger shall be pure and clean
From bloodshed,—and the human tiger too.
What hate degraded, sweet love shall renew.
Judas along with Jesus shall be seen:
The priest shall cease on Satan's arm to lean,
The pulpit cease to thunder to the pew.
156
PASSION AND LOVE
SONNET VIII
I
PASSION
The sense of wrong in passion is the power
That lights all passion: 'tis the subtle charm
That makes so sweet the softness of smooth arm
And adds a magic to each swift night-hour.
It is the moon that lights the mystic bower
Of passion,—and the stars between the trees,—
And the strange glamour of the blue-haired seas;
It is that weirdly perfumed lurking flower.
It is the joy within the joy,—the sense
Of curious ecstasy beyond control,—
The unholy holy strength within the soul;
It is the vial of marvellous wine from whence
The red soft lingering honied round drops roll
That fill the human veins with fires intense.
157
SONNET IX
II
LOVE
The sense of right in love is the one thing
Within it sweetest and of deathless might:
Its self-denial gives it larger light
Than light of summer, or than light of spring.
The sense of duty plumes love's eagle wing
For loftier trackless leagues of sunlit flight:
The sense of duty is the golden ring
Whereby love weds the morn, and baulks the night.
Ah! passion's eyes are dark: but love's are grey,—
Clear-grey, like greyness of the English seas.
One lives within the noon-tide and the day:
The other 'mid the darkling olive-trees.
Both are most sweet: yet each in her own way;—
And when one comes, the other sister flees.
158
SONNET X
THE LONELY SENTINEL
The sense of passion,—though the passion grew
Not on the licensed legal common tree,—
Made sudden Spring on every side of me
Flute with a music half divine and new.
It made the grey waves flash with sudden blue:
It filled the air with speechless ecstasy;
With golden gleams it lit the cloud-swept lea;
It tinged the world's white flowers with roseate hue.
And why?—I know not. Only God can tell
Why things that on one side seem pale and wrong
Are flushed and holy and sweet and full of song
Upon the other: why in depths of hell
Wherein black Satan's armoured hosts wax strong
Glitters one lonely seraph-sentinel.
159
SONNET XI
A LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS
Yes: every manner of creature you caress!
That yellow wanton evil-tongued canary,—
You hold the fluffy bird with laughter airy
Within your blue-silk amorous loosened dress.
You love your lover,—I could swear it,—less
Than that red squirrel! Wild coquettish fairy,
Of gifts to eager man so shy and chary,—
Yet all creation you would bend to bless.
With the dark tresses of that horse's mane
You mix your own: you kiss his shining neck:
You murmur pet names without end to him.
If I would kiss you, lo! you start and check
My passion with cold words: then turn again
To that canary on his saucer's rim.
160
SONNET XII
THE ANCIENT MOON
O moon, thou gazest on our London night!
Thou see'st the Thames' dark eddies roll along:
Thou hear'st coarse vulgar words, or snatch of song:
Jealous, thou battlest with the electric light.
Thou kissest thine old love, the obelisk white
Whom thou didst toy with in the unknown years.
Thou markest many a bridge with stately piers:
Thou followest steam-boats in their throbbing flight.
Yet how thou sneerest at us in thine heart,—
Thou, most aristocratic of all things!—
Thou who hast seen the Assyrian priestess stand
Where pillars pale abut on endless sand:
Thou who hast watched Gomorrha's black-haired kings,
And lent thy lustre to barbaric Art.
161
SONNET XIII
TWO NIGHTS
The same blue overhanging vault of sky
And the same stars, and the same breeze that leaps
Along the heavens,—and the same moon that sweeps,
Majestic, through the hedgeless fields on high,
Scanning creation with cold ageless eye.
But what a change in two nights—lo! the lone
And solemn desert, and a town half-shown
Under the moon,—and the warm night-wind's sigh;
White columns, and the brow-bound blue-black hair
Of the Assyrian harlot and her face
Hard and clear-cut within the market-place
(And that same changeless golden moon still there!):—
Another night: our Strand and all its glare,
And gay-gowned wantons of another race.
162
SONNET XIV
BETHLEHEM AND THE GREEN PARK
The barley-fields of Bethlehem,—the sky
Full of far depths of colour strange and sweet;
Boaz asleep,—and Ruth beside his feet
Dreaming—the feathery swift moths fleeting by.
Through his light sleep he hears a woman sigh
And wakes and finds her, and their spirits meet:—
Around them still that hush of Eastern heat,
And the broad yellow sunburnt plains and dry.
Another night:—the centuries have fled,
Fled fast: in London, underneath a tree
In the Green Park a soldier sits, and he
Circles his sweetheart with strong arm, till lo!
From the white barrack doth the bugle blow.
Love lives, though Ruth the Moabite is dead.
163
SONNET XV
“IF ONE COULD LIVE FOR EVER!”
If one could live for ever!—carrying on
The life of old Assyria till to-day!
See era after era pass away
Yet be oneself,—though all men else had gone.
The sun to-day is the same sun that shone
On Saul and David: why should man, I pray,
Be less long-lived than its fierce golden spray?
E'en the moon lives, though age has made her wan.
O God, to live for ever!—passing through
Each age, and knowing the ecstasy of each:
The same gaze that to-day, quite youthful, falls
On the dim dome and facade of St. Paul's
Having beheld the Pyramids quite new
And flashed response to Cleopatra's speech.
164
SONNET XVI
THIS CENTURY,—AND THE NEXT
This century knew Napoleon,—and it knew
Byron and Wordsworth, and its heart has heard
The vast French poet's century-equal word;
And it has seen the smoke of Waterloo.
It has seen France and Germany bestrew
The summer plains with dead. It marked the Third
Napoleon drop from empire. It has stirred
With iron keels the sea's untroubled blue.
Now, nearing its august and solemn close,
It has seen Maytime in the Phœnix Park
Shudder at a crime than which no crime more dark
Has ever stained May's hawthorn or May's rose.
It has seen Revolution's first red spark:
Will its child see the towering flame?—God knows.
Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke were assassinated in the Phœnix Park, Dublin, on Saturday, May 6, 1882.
165
SONNET XVII
LOVE THAT ENDURES
Ye poets, think ye that the world will still
Cherish your memory when ye come to die?
Yes, for a little time,—with tear and sigh
Bending above you: for an hour she will.
Then will new song the woods and valleys fill
And new sunrises flush the fickle sky!
Again will passion's golden moments fly,
As shadows race along the wind-swept hill.
Will even the greatest live?—Yes, for awhile.
But ah! the world has endless youth in store
And unborn Shakespeares, Dantes, wait to pour
Song at her feet, and win her fairy smile.
Yet, Love that nought could conquer nor defile
Has its own godhead, safe for evermore.
166
ODE TO DEATH
When all the pleasant days of love are past;
When in life's autumn garden lo! the last
Red wind-swept rose doth blow;
When death stands in the austere gateway saying,—
While round him strains of music weird are playing,—
“Thou shalt no further go;”
When in life's autumn garden lo! the last
Red wind-swept rose doth blow;
When death stands in the austere gateway saying,—
While round him strains of music weird are playing,—
“Thou shalt no further go;”
Oh, what shall then the former days be worth,
And all the gladness of the green old earth,
And all her white may-trees?
Will all be new and strange in regions far
Beyond the fire-gleam of the faintest star
That rides the heavenly seas?
And all the gladness of the green old earth,
And all her white may-trees?
Will all be new and strange in regions far
Beyond the fire-gleam of the faintest star
That rides the heavenly seas?
When in the city of solemn death we stand,
Lip touching pale lip, pale hand touching hand,
What shall be waiting there?—
Shall we meet poets true who went before,
Whom we saw landing on the fatal shore?
Shall conquering love shine fair?
Lip touching pale lip, pale hand touching hand,
What shall be waiting there?—
Shall we meet poets true who went before,
Whom we saw landing on the fatal shore?
Shall conquering love shine fair?
167
Shall we find all the flowers that fill the land
Of sweet death waiting for our outstretched hand,—
Or find no flowers at all?
O spirits who have passed us, where are ye?
We left you on the margin of the sea,
Where blue waves rise and fall:
Of sweet death waiting for our outstretched hand,—
Or find no flowers at all?
O spirits who have passed us, where are ye?
We left you on the margin of the sea,
Where blue waves rise and fall:
We left you there upon the golden sand,
And turned one moment, just to gaze inland
And smell the hayfields' bloom.
When we looked back from cliff-tops to the sea
The waves were there (but grey), and where were ye?
Gone, through the deepening gloom.
And turned one moment, just to gaze inland
And smell the hayfields' bloom.
When we looked back from cliff-tops to the sea
The waves were there (but grey), and where were ye?
Gone, through the deepening gloom.
And then against the last gold sunset-bar
We marked a white sail outlined, faint and far,
Upon the horizon dim.
Slowly we turned,—and up the valley-glade
We walked alone, alone, through beeches' shade,
With tightened lips and grim.
We marked a white sail outlined, faint and far,
Upon the horizon dim.
Slowly we turned,—and up the valley-glade
We walked alone, alone, through beeches' shade,
With tightened lips and grim.
And we have never heard one word as yet,
Though we have watched so many a gold sun set
Upon that ocean-marge:
O'er the wide channel comes the silvery laughter
Of winds and waters,—but no word flies after!
The distances are large.
Though we have watched so many a gold sun set
Upon that ocean-marge:
168
Of winds and waters,—but no word flies after!
The distances are large.
1882.
169
“TOO SOON!”
One moment! then you passed away
And all the sapphire sky turned grey
In June.
Why wait not, when 'tis close of day
So soon?
And all the sapphire sky turned grey
In June.
Why wait not, when 'tis close of day
So soon?
I caught a glimpse of laughing eyes,
Bright-coloured like the laughing skies
Of June.
They passed. Why is it summer dies
So soon?
Bright-coloured like the laughing skies
Of June.
They passed. Why is it summer dies
So soon?
Farewell, clear eyes that flashed and gleamed
Then left me lonely, having dreamed
Too soon.
When you had passed, no more it seemed
Like June!
Then left me lonely, having dreamed
Too soon.
When you had passed, no more it seemed
Like June!
170
LOVE AND TIME
No true love passes.—Does the night
Steal all its glory from the day?
When once the sun is put to flight,
Are all the heavens for ever grey?
Nay! through the heights and depths of space
The fiery-prowed wild star-ships race,
The Armadas of immensity:
The waves gleamed blue beneath the sun,
But, now the golden day is done,
The silver moon may kiss the sea.
Steal all its glory from the day?
When once the sun is put to flight,
Are all the heavens for ever grey?
Nay! through the heights and depths of space
The fiery-prowed wild star-ships race,
The Armadas of immensity:
The waves gleamed blue beneath the sun,
But, now the golden day is done,
The silver moon may kiss the sea.
There is no end to time or space.
New suns beyond our sun will rise:
Life cannot alter true love's face,
Nor dim the glory in love's eyes.
Love is eternal, ever-new:
Just as the waves each morn are blue;
Just as the skies each morn are fair;
Just as each autumn's golden sheaves
Shine out afresh, and golden leaves
Glitter each autumn through the air.
New suns beyond our sun will rise:
Life cannot alter true love's face,
Nor dim the glory in love's eyes.
171
Just as the waves each morn are blue;
Just as the skies each morn are fair;
Just as each autumn's golden sheaves
Shine out afresh, and golden leaves
Glitter each autumn through the air.
But all else passes. Thrones must pass;
The lordliest shrines and temples fall:
Death's sickle gathers in the grass;
No loiterer can escape his call.
The gods whom man has made and crowned
Lie pale, dismembered, on the ground:
Man bade them reign; Time bids them flee;—
Where once were prisons, now is corn;
Where blossoms smiled, are wastes forlorn;
Where rivers rippled, roars the sea.
The lordliest shrines and temples fall:
Death's sickle gathers in the grass;
No loiterer can escape his call.
The gods whom man has made and crowned
Lie pale, dismembered, on the ground:
Man bade them reign; Time bids them flee;—
Where once were prisons, now is corn;
Where blossoms smiled, are wastes forlorn;
Where rivers rippled, roars the sea.
The Roman Caesars had their hour:
The Roman legions poured along,
Beheld the English woods a-flower,
And heard the English billows' song.
Where are they now? The waves that saw
Their legions land with little awe
Watch iron-armoured fleets to-day:
The waves reck little for they know
That nations, like the whirling snow,
Melt into nought, and pass away.
The Roman legions poured along,
Beheld the English woods a-flower,
And heard the English billows' song.
Where are they now? The waves that saw
Their legions land with little awe
172
The waves reck little for they know
That nations, like the whirling snow,
Melt into nought, and pass away.
The Gallic Caesar's empire rose;
The whole world trembled at his tread:
He gave the thunder no repose;
At his sole word the streams ran red.
He changed his sceptre for a sword;
He longed to say, “I am the lord
Of every land beneath the sun.
There were two Rulers—God and I;
We threw with dice for sovereignty;
Jehovah lost: Napoleon won!”
The whole world trembled at his tread:
He gave the thunder no repose;
At his sole word the streams ran red.
He changed his sceptre for a sword;
He longed to say, “I am the lord
Of every land beneath the sun.
There were two Rulers—God and I;
We threw with dice for sovereignty;
Jehovah lost: Napoleon won!”
Yet in the lonely sea-beat isle
The second Caesar passed away,
And once again the world might smile,
And once again keep holiday.
The corn was red at Waterloo,
But there to-day the sky is blue:
Two spectres pass. The flowers have heard
One whisper, “I am Wellington!”
And one, “I am Napoleon!”
Their soldiers rise not at their word.
The second Caesar passed away,
And once again the world might smile,
And once again keep holiday.
The corn was red at Waterloo,
But there to-day the sky is blue:
Two spectres pass. The flowers have heard
One whisper, “I am Wellington!”
173
Their soldiers rise not at their word.
Time watched pale Cleopatra's kiss
Thrill Antony with sweet despair:
Time heard the small smooth aspick hiss;
Time saw the towers of Ilium flare.
In pre-historic dateless hours
Among great white unnamed strange flowers
Time saw the kiss of bird and bird:
When dying Jesus raised his eyes
Fast-darkening to the lurid skies
Time caught his last heart-broken word.
Thrill Antony with sweet despair:
Time heard the small smooth aspick hiss;
Time saw the towers of Ilium flare.
In pre-historic dateless hours
Among great white unnamed strange flowers
Time saw the kiss of bird and bird:
When dying Jesus raised his eyes
Fast-darkening to the lurid skies
Time caught his last heart-broken word.
Time saw the first fair woman's eyes
Glitter with love when life was young;
When young stars watched from cloudless skies,
And ruby-throated songsters sung.
Time saw the first kiss, and the last
Will see when passion's moods are past
And blind oblivion waits for man—
Time, who beheld the pencil seized
By God's swift hand when he well-pleased
Sketched out our planet's primal plan.
Glitter with love when life was young;
When young stars watched from cloudless skies,
And ruby-throated songsters sung.
Time saw the first kiss, and the last
Will see when passion's moods are past
And blind oblivion waits for man—
Time, who beheld the pencil seized
By God's swift hand when he well-pleased
Sketched out our planet's primal plan.
174
The fair white city on the Seine
That heard the chief of poets sing,—
That watched the triumph and the pain
Of Hugo, and that crowned him king,—
That, at the last wild century's close,
Watched Revolution as it rose
Sea-like with blood-besprinkled surge,—
That saw the untrembling guillotine
Cleave through the white neck of a queen.
And heard the tocsin's cruel dirge,—
That heard the chief of poets sing,—
That watched the triumph and the pain
Of Hugo, and that crowned him king,—
That, at the last wild century's close,
Watched Revolution as it rose
Sea-like with blood-besprinkled surge,—
That saw the untrembling guillotine
Cleave through the white neck of a queen.
And heard the tocsin's cruel dirge,—
This city too, shall change and pass;
Of all things earthly nought abides:
Be walls of iron or beaten brass
Yet Time surmounts them and derides.
One day the glory of the Czar
Was glory as of sun or star,
A splendour measureless, sublime:
The next day at his feet the shell
Burst madly, and the White Czar fell,
'Mid laughter from the lips of Time!
Of all things earthly nought abides:
Be walls of iron or beaten brass
Yet Time surmounts them and derides.
One day the glory of the Czar
Was glory as of sun or star,
A splendour measureless, sublime:
The next day at his feet the shell
Burst madly, and the White Czar fell,
'Mid laughter from the lips of Time!
But love abides, though all things change,
Though nations plunge into the night;
Though all around wax dim and strange;
Though aging stars give little light.—
We float along our century's stream,
We sing and toil, and love and dream,
But lo! we near the ocean's marge:
Our river-century soon will end
And, swelling into waves, descend
Into the sea-waves fierce and large.
Though nations plunge into the night;
175
Though aging stars give little light.—
We float along our century's stream,
We sing and toil, and love and dream,
But lo! we near the ocean's marge:
Our river-century soon will end
And, swelling into waves, descend
Into the sea-waves fierce and large.
Then what shall last? What thing shall be?
What shall the twentieth century bear?
What ships shall sail upon its sea?
What new stars sparkle through its air?
We know not: only this we know,—
That love, though wild years come and go,
Will wander calm-eyed, gathering flowers;—
A thousand centuries are as one
Day to the never-dying sun
And unto love a few short hours.
What shall the twentieth century bear?
What ships shall sail upon its sea?
What new stars sparkle through its air?
We know not: only this we know,—
That love, though wild years come and go,
Will wander calm-eyed, gathering flowers;—
A thousand centuries are as one
Day to the never-dying sun
And unto love a few short hours.
176
A LOVING HEART
A heart that makes the best of things,
That findeth good in all:
A heart that through the summer sings,
And when the cold snows fall:
A heart that feels for others' pain
And makes the weary young again:
That findeth good in all:
A heart that through the summer sings,
And when the cold snows fall:
A heart that feels for others' pain
And makes the weary young again:
This is the heart that helps mankind,
That cheers us on our way,
And so itself shall surely find
More joy than words can say.
For what we give to lighten pain
In gladness we receive again.
That cheers us on our way,
And so itself shall surely find
More joy than words can say.
For what we give to lighten pain
In gladness we receive again.
The day is long and dark the night,
Stern foes around us stand,
And ripening years have dimmed the light
That gleamed from fairy land:
But never can that light depart
Which flashes from a loving heart.
Stern foes around us stand,
And ripening years have dimmed the light
That gleamed from fairy land:
But never can that light depart
Which flashes from a loving heart.
November 2, 1887.
177
“YONDER A CLOUD!”
Yonder a cloud in the deep blue sky,
Ever so small a cloud!
'Twill gather to thunder by and bye
And the storm will speak aloud.
Ever so small a cloud—pure white
On the blue sky's spotless space:
'Twill thicken to lurid black by night
And darken the sky's whole face.
Ever so small a cloud!
'Twill gather to thunder by and bye
And the storm will speak aloud.
Ever so small a cloud—pure white
On the blue sky's spotless space:
'Twill thicken to lurid black by night
And darken the sky's whole face.
Yonder a cloud, between heart and heart,
Ever so small a cloud:
Yet gloom will gather, and light depart,
And souls will be bent and bowed.
Yonder a cloud! Be it ever so small,
Let the breeze of love awake
And hasten it forth, or hopes will fall
And sorrowful hearts will break.
Ever so small a cloud:
Yet gloom will gather, and light depart,
And souls will be bent and bowed.
Yonder a cloud! Be it ever so small,
Let the breeze of love awake
And hasten it forth, or hopes will fall
And sorrowful hearts will break.
178
Smile and be glad ere the great winds roar
And the great seas madden and rise,
Ere the fierce waves whiten the whole long shore
And the black clouds darken the skies.
Yonder a cloud! Be it ever so small,
Take warning—cease to be proud:
For world-wide grief, or an empire's fall,
Begins with “yonder a cloud!”
And the great seas madden and rise,
Ere the fierce waves whiten the whole long shore
And the black clouds darken the skies.
Yonder a cloud! Be it ever so small,
Take warning—cease to be proud:
For world-wide grief, or an empire's fall,
Begins with “yonder a cloud!”
179
“IF I WERE AS OLD AS YOU!”
“If only I were as old as you,”
So said a child to me,
A child with eyes of fearless blue
Bright as the morning sea.
“If only I were as old as you,
With a great big beard and a hat”—
“Yes, my darling, what would you do?”
“I'd buy an owl and a cat!”
So said a child to me,
A child with eyes of fearless blue
Bright as the morning sea.
“If only I were as old as you,
With a great big beard and a hat”—
“Yes, my darling, what would you do?”
“I'd buy an owl and a cat!”
“I'd buy an owl and a cat,” he said,
“And a string of amber beads,
And a soldier's suit of splendid red,
And do tremendous deeds.
I'd buy a ship, and a new toy-gun,
If I were as old as you,
And a helmet flashing like the sun,
With a plume of lovely blue!”
“And a string of amber beads,
And a soldier's suit of splendid red,
And do tremendous deeds.
I'd buy a ship, and a new toy-gun,
If I were as old as you,
And a helmet flashing like the sun,
With a plume of lovely blue!”
180
Such simple things! In later days
Does anything bring the joy
That a ship and a gun, or a cracker's blaze,
Brings to an eager boy?
Whatever I buy, I hear that cry,
“If I were as old as you,
I'd soon have a helmet like the sun,
With a plume of lovely blue!”
Does anything bring the joy
That a ship and a gun, or a cracker's blaze,
Brings to an eager boy?
Whatever I buy, I hear that cry,
“If I were as old as you,
I'd soon have a helmet like the sun,
With a plume of lovely blue!”
181
CROSS-PURPOSES
“I would have given you love,” said I,
“Flowers of the earth and stars of the sky:
Thoughts like stars, and love like a flower,
Blossoms fit for a queen's own dower,
Gifts that a king might long to see”—
“Buy me this diamond brooch,” said she.
“Flowers of the earth and stars of the sky:
Thoughts like stars, and love like a flower,
Blossoms fit for a queen's own dower,
Gifts that a king might long to see”—
“Buy me this diamond brooch,” said she.
“Dreaming still of the earth?” said I.
“You—why I thought you came from the sky!
Thought you a fairy, deemed you a queen;
Earth for your footstep seemed too mean.
You to ask for a brooch from me—”
“Buy me that necklace then,” said she.
“You—why I thought you came from the sky!
Thought you a fairy, deemed you a queen;
Earth for your footstep seemed too mean.
You to ask for a brooch from me—”
“Buy me that necklace then,” said she.
Star-dreams flash through the poet's head:
Woman looks at the shops instead.
The lover dreams in his lady's eyes;
But the lady does not dream—she buys.
“Brighter than stars are your eyes,” thinks he—
“Eighteen and threepence, dear,” says she.
Woman looks at the shops instead.
The lover dreams in his lady's eyes;
But the lady does not dream—she buys.
“Brighter than stars are your eyes,” thinks he—
“Eighteen and threepence, dear,” says she.
182
POST-MORTEM SURPRISES
I
If there be any life beyond the tomb,
How full of strange surprises must it be
For those who, struggling upward from death's gloom,
Behold new sunlight gild new shores and sea!
How full of strange surprises must it be
For those who, struggling upward from death's gloom,
Behold new sunlight gild new shores and sea!
Amidst the gladness will not sadness lurk?
We are so wedded here to our own view,
To our own dreams,—Jew, Christian, heathen, Turk—
It will be hard to find that nought we knew.
We are so wedded here to our own view,
To our own dreams,—Jew, Christian, heathen, Turk—
It will be hard to find that nought we knew.
The Christian dying, and cursing as he dies
The poet who believed that love was fair—
It will be hard, beneath heaven's golden skies,
To see his Jesus kiss a woman's hair.
The poet who believed that love was fair—
It will be hard, beneath heaven's golden skies,
To see his Jesus kiss a woman's hair.
183
It will be very hard (our minds are small)
For those who worshipped at the Virgin's feet
To know she had a husband after all,
And found the joys of marriage pure and sweet.
For those who worshipped at the Virgin's feet
To know she had a husband after all,
And found the joys of marriage pure and sweet.
And for the man of science strong and proud,
Who peered beneath the billows of the sea,
And pierced beyond the walls of mist and cloud,
And read the past, and read futurity:
Who peered beneath the billows of the sea,
And pierced beyond the walls of mist and cloud,
And read the past, and read futurity:
The man before whose ardent gaze unveiled
Creation shone,—who named them one by one,
The stars that through the black night slowly sailed,—
Who faced the soulless Force that steers the sun:
Creation shone,—who named them one by one,
The stars that through the black night slowly sailed,—
Who faced the soulless Force that steers the sun:
The man who would permit mankind to sink,
Sad soul by soul, unpitied, to its doom,
And stand upon the abyss, close by the brink,
And gaze with steady eyes far through the gloom:
Sad soul by soul, unpitied, to its doom,
And stand upon the abyss, close by the brink,
And gaze with steady eyes far through the gloom:
The man whose sombre wish it is to be
Alone for ever, with no God to speak;
Alone with darkness on the godless sea,
Alone with sunrise on the mountain-peak;
Alone for ever, with no God to speak;
Alone with darkness on the godless sea,
Alone with sunrise on the mountain-peak;
184
Alone with love's high rapture, which for him
Would be discounted if a God were there
(The sculptor's presence makes each stately limb
Of woman to the thinker seem less fair):
Would be discounted if a God were there
(The sculptor's presence makes each stately limb
Of woman to the thinker seem less fair):
The man whose soul, though pride within it lies,
Hath something of the greatness none the less
Of the vast God whose being he denies,
Tempered by man's eternal littleness:
Hath something of the greatness none the less
Of the vast God whose being he denies,
Tempered by man's eternal littleness:
The man who, rather than bow down before
The paltry God the Churches' hands have made,
Finds God within the sunlight on the shore
Or in the silent forest's moonlit shade:
The paltry God the Churches' hands have made,
Finds God within the sunlight on the shore
Or in the silent forest's moonlit shade:
It will be somewhat hard for him to know
That this world was not all! His one despair
Will be to find that God is living, though
God left no track upon the starlit air.
That this world was not all! His one despair
Will be to find that God is living, though
God left no track upon the starlit air.
It will be hard for Pharisees to own
That there is sweetness in a harlot's eyes:
It will be hard for kings to leave a throne,
And own that flatterers' words were mostly lies.
That there is sweetness in a harlot's eyes:
It will be hard for kings to leave a throne,
And own that flatterers' words were mostly lies.
185
It will be strange to Christian eyes to see
Their Lord and Master in a lower place,
Perhaps, than thousands worshipped less than he;
To mark some weakness in his soul and face.
Their Lord and Master in a lower place,
Perhaps, than thousands worshipped less than he;
To mark some weakness in his soul and face.
All will be wild surprise,—all must be new.
Yet shall we find, if heavenly life be given,
The most unselfish head was wisest too,—
The heart that loved the most knew most of heaven.
Yet shall we find, if heavenly life be given,
The most unselfish head was wisest too,—
The heart that loved the most knew most of heaven.
II
For by our deeds, and by our deeds alone,
God judges us,—if righteous God there be.
Creeds are as thistle-down wind-tost and blown,
But deeds abide throughout eternity.
God judges us,—if righteous God there be.
Creeds are as thistle-down wind-tost and blown,
But deeds abide throughout eternity.
It matters little, so that love be there,
Whether you think that legends have their day
Then pass, with all they held of foul or fair,
Or whether still, Church-pent, you praise and pray.
Whether you think that legends have their day
Then pass, with all they held of foul or fair,
Or whether still, Church-pent, you praise and pray.
It matters little whether you discern
In Venus' limbs a sweetness past man's speech,—
Heaven in the rose, a glory in the fern,
A million jewels on the sunlit beach;
In Venus' limbs a sweetness past man's speech,—
Heaven in the rose, a glory in the fern,
A million jewels on the sunlit beach;
186
Or whether you elect to burn and pant
For heavenly splendours glittering past the tomb,
Heedless that God, withholding these, would grant
Your eyes a sight of leagues of furze in bloom.
For heavenly splendours glittering past the tomb,
Heedless that God, withholding these, would grant
Your eyes a sight of leagues of furze in bloom.
Whether you hold that Christ revealed to man
The sweetness of the land beyond the grave,
Or that Keats felt as never mortal can
The sweetness of the earth he came to save:
The sweetness of the land beyond the grave,
Or that Keats felt as never mortal can
The sweetness of the earth he came to save:
Whether you deem that Musset felt the whole
Of young love's rapture as none else can feel,
Or that the wild bright ocean's very soul
Was Byron's, past all question or appeal:
Of young love's rapture as none else can feel,
Or that the wild bright ocean's very soul
Was Byron's, past all question or appeal:
Whether you worship Shakespeare as God's son
And Hugo as God's son, in very deed,
Or in the older manner worship one,
One God-man only, and nought else concede:
And Hugo as God's son, in very deed,
Or in the older manner worship one,
One God-man only, and nought else concede:
Whether you hold that Dante brought to light
For man pure love, as pure love is to be,
And pierced the darkness of hell's lampless night
Retaining still song's tongue, and eyes to see:
For man pure love, as pure love is to be,
And pierced the darkness of hell's lampless night
Retaining still song's tongue, and eyes to see:
187
Whether you hold that Turner once revealed,
Revealed for ever, perfect landscape-art;
That through the song of Shelley music pealed,
Pure as from pure depths of God's very heart:
Revealed for ever, perfect landscape-art;
That through the song of Shelley music pealed,
Pure as from pure depths of God's very heart:
All matters little.—Worship God in Christ,
Or in the blossoms, or within the sun;
Be heathen, Christian—but be not enticed
By any creed to leave true work undone.
Or in the blossoms, or within the sun;
Be heathen, Christian—but be not enticed
By any creed to leave true work undone.
One man will love the pleasures of the earth,
Another long for pleasures in the sky;
One finds his music in a young girl's mirth,
And on her lips his immortality:
Another long for pleasures in the sky;
One finds his music in a young girl's mirth,
And on her lips his immortality:
Another deems that human love is vain,
That only in Christ God's likeness must be sought;
Another toils through a long life to gain
A scholar's insight into ancient thought:
That only in Christ God's likeness must be sought;
Another toils through a long life to gain
A scholar's insight into ancient thought:
Nought matters save our deeds.—If right we do,
God is with us, Jehovah is our friend:
If self we worship, though our creed be true
We shall be found without God at the end.
God is with us, Jehovah is our friend:
If self we worship, though our creed be true
We shall be found without God at the end.
188
GOD'S SERMON
I
“Art not thou contented, mortal?”
Sometimes so God seems to say:
“Must I bear thee through death's portal?
Wouldst thou live beyond thy day?
Why shouldst thou aspire to be
Sentient through eternity?
Sometimes so God seems to say:
“Must I bear thee through death's portal?
Wouldst thou live beyond thy day?
Why shouldst thou aspire to be
Sentient through eternity?
“Life and tender love I sent thee,
Sunny dawns and silent eves;
Stars and moon and sun I lent thee,
Ruby flowers and emerald leaves;
Splendour of the sapphire main:
Yet thou cravest to live again!
Sunny dawns and silent eves;
Stars and moon and sun I lent thee,
Ruby flowers and emerald leaves;
Splendour of the sapphire main:
Yet thou cravest to live again!
“Foolish art thou, foolish surely,
Clamouring for a joyless boon.
If the heaven that shines so purely
Now with golden stars and moon
Shone for ever thus the same,
Nought it would be but a name.
Clamouring for a joyless boon.
If the heaven that shines so purely
Now with golden stars and moon
Shone for ever thus the same,
Nought it would be but a name.
189
“Thou in time wouldst grow quite weary
Of the sights that seem so fair;
Even the sunlight would be dreary,
Sweet lips not what once they were;
Much have I the power to give,
Not the power to bid thee live.
Of the sights that seem so fair;
Even the sunlight would be dreary,
Sweet lips not what once they were;
Much have I the power to give,
Not the power to bid thee live.
“Thou art part of all that changes,
I myself am changeful too:
Through new spheres my being ranges;
Other work I have to do
Than to keep a moth like thee
Plumaged through eternity.
I myself am changeful too:
Through new spheres my being ranges;
Other work I have to do
Than to keep a moth like thee
Plumaged through eternity.
“Life I gave thee for a season,
Friendship's pleasure, passion's kiss;
Heart to love, and brain to reason,
Many a month of sunny bliss;
But my last gift is my best—
Peace from living, perfect rest.”
Friendship's pleasure, passion's kiss;
Heart to love, and brain to reason,
Many a month of sunny bliss;
But my last gift is my best—
Peace from living, perfect rest.”
190
II
“Once thou see'st the sun, once only,—
Nothing twice is quite the same:
Life's supremest joys are lonely,
Like the God from whom they came.
Only once a kiss is sweet;
Once as one the wild hearts beat.
Nothing twice is quite the same:
Life's supremest joys are lonely,
Like the God from whom they came.
Only once a kiss is sweet;
Once as one the wild hearts beat.
“If in heaven thou took'st thy pleasure
Through a course of endless hours,
Thinkest thou that thou wouldst treasure
As thou dost the wayside flowers?
No: its coming death bestows
All its lustre on the rose.
Through a course of endless hours,
Thinkest thou that thou wouldst treasure
As thou dost the wayside flowers?
No: its coming death bestows
All its lustre on the rose.
“Deepliest sinks the first impression:
Even the form thou lovest best
Passed into thy full possession
On the night it was possest.
Woman, blossom, sunset, sea,
Give their beauty once to thee.
Even the form thou lovest best
Passed into thy full possession
On the night it was possest.
Woman, blossom, sunset, sea,
Give their beauty once to thee.
191
“Craving heaven, thou cravest sadness.
I myself would sometimes give
All I know of heavenly gladness
For the simple right to live
On thine earth for fifty years,
Sharing human joys and tears.
I myself would sometimes give
All I know of heavenly gladness
For the simple right to live
On thine earth for fifty years,
Sharing human joys and tears.
“Woman's beauty I, her Maker,
Only in a measure see:
But thou art the full partaker,
Her whole self she gives to thee.
I, who first created this,
Half am envious of her kiss.
Only in a measure see:
But thou art the full partaker,
Her whole self she gives to thee.
I, who first created this,
Half am envious of her kiss.
“Though his joy but for one minute
Lasteth, yet the mortal gains,
For there's more of rapture in it
Than eternity contains!
Take thy moment's bliss—then die
Happier after all than I.”
Lasteth, yet the mortal gains,
For there's more of rapture in it
Than eternity contains!
Take thy moment's bliss—then die
Happier after all than I.”
192
FATE'S EQUAL MEASURE
We need not envy fern and daisy,
Nor summer's wealth of bloom:
October's days come, dark and hazy,
And clothed about with gloom.
Nor summer's wealth of bloom:
October's days come, dark and hazy,
And clothed about with gloom.
We need not envy summer's roses:
The bleak autumnal wind
Sweeps through the frightened shuddering closes
And leaves no flowers behind.
The bleak autumnal wind
Sweeps through the frightened shuddering closes
And leaves no flowers behind.
No lives we see are worth our longing:
Through every golden dream
The pallid morning thoughts come thronging
In one long ghostly stream.
Through every golden dream
The pallid morning thoughts come thronging
In one long ghostly stream.
Some seem to win one happy season:
But envy not their fate!
Sorrow and blank dismay and treason
Upon their threshold wait.
But envy not their fate!
Sorrow and blank dismay and treason
Upon their threshold wait.
193
Are lovers happy? Not for ever
The clinging kiss shall last.
A thousand foemen wait to sever:
One rapture—then 'tis past!
The clinging kiss shall last.
A thousand foemen wait to sever:
One rapture—then 'tis past!
The blue sea turns to storm and madness;
The still lake boils with foam:
Spent is the green-leafed summer's gladness;
Afar the red leaves roam!
The still lake boils with foam:
Spent is the green-leafed summer's gladness;
Afar the red leaves roam!
So envy no man.—Happiest lovers
Have death beside their feet.
Lo! what a strange flower-raiment covers
The supple snake's retreat.
Have death beside their feet.
Lo! what a strange flower-raiment covers
The supple snake's retreat.
At least in this an equal measure
Fate's grim unbribed hand deals,
Bestowing pain, and stealing pleasure
From every heart that feels.
Fate's grim unbribed hand deals,
Bestowing pain, and stealing pleasure
From every heart that feels.
194
DESPAIR
I
Each flower hath fellow-flowers, and every leafMay share its grief:
The golden great stars roll in ordered course
And blend their force:
But on his solitary piteous throne
Man sits alone.
2
The skies have not one tender word to say,Black, red or grey:
The wavelets laugh; their laugh is not for him:
The forests grim
Wake in the morning by the fresh wind blown;
Man stands alone.
195
3
He hath no share in soulless Nature's glee,Not in the sea,
Nor in the life of plant nor joy of morn
Nor breeze-bowed corn:
Not in the life of flowers when these resume
Their last year's bloom.
4
Man lives alone beneath heaven's burning cope,Devoid of hope;
Meeting by night and day, and everywhere,
Gaunt-browed despair,
And knowing only that time must efface
Him and his race.
June 9, 1881.
196
PAST MANY YEARS
Past many years I gaze towards one sweet face
And towards a wind-swept sea-kissed upland place
Where love was bright:
And round me still the far-off wonder flows
As the red sunset o'er the water throws
Its magic light.
And towards a wind-swept sea-kissed upland place
Where love was bright:
And round me still the far-off wonder flows
As the red sunset o'er the water throws
Its magic light.
Ah! sweet, was all the long strange road too long
And couldst thou find no solace in my song
Nor sense of rest?
Were the wild blossoms that earth's pilgrims seek
Poor by the flowers that nestle in thy cheek
And in thy breast?
And couldst thou find no solace in my song
Nor sense of rest?
Were the wild blossoms that earth's pilgrims seek
Poor by the flowers that nestle in thy cheek
And in thy breast?
197
And had the lonely unattractive way
No splendour greater than of gold sun-ray
Or silver moon?
Are there not stars and moons and suns within
The souls who struggle God's high goals to win,
For crown and boon?
No splendour greater than of gold sun-ray
Or silver moon?
Are there not stars and moons and suns within
The souls who struggle God's high goals to win,
For crown and boon?
Ah! weary lovely far-off woman-face
How far thou art from love's supreme embrace,
How far from mine!
Thou lingerest in the green vales far inland
And the grey sea's waves win from thy white hand
No loving sign.
How far thou art from love's supreme embrace,
How far from mine!
Thou lingerest in the green vales far inland
And the grey sea's waves win from thy white hand
No loving sign.
Between us lies a strange and bitter past.
Wilt thou traverse the rocky road at last
And win the beach?
Wilt thou discern that where the great seas roar
Delight unspoken dwells for evermore
And love's own speech?
Wilt thou traverse the rocky road at last
And win the beach?
Wilt thou discern that where the great seas roar
Delight unspoken dwells for evermore
And love's own speech?
198
Oh, in the future's stirring sacred name
Thy soul for parcel of her force we claim,—
We claim thy power.
Remember that the fairest roses shine
Where storm and sun and cloud and light combine
To brace each flower.
Thy soul for parcel of her force we claim,—
We claim thy power.
Remember that the fairest roses shine
Where storm and sun and cloud and light combine
To brace each flower.
Death lies between us; and a weary way.
But, by the loving lips of this salt spray
And by this place
And by all memories, if thine eyes I met,
It would be just as if no parting yet
Had dimmed love's face!
But, by the loving lips of this salt spray
And by this place
And by all memories, if thine eyes I met,
It would be just as if no parting yet
Had dimmed love's face!
June 10, 1881.
199
“THE SAME FLOWERS BUD, THE SAME FLOWERS BLOW”
O old-world singers, ye are dead,
But still the eternal rose is red:
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once ye loved, so long ago!
But still the eternal rose is red:
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once ye loved, so long ago!
Where are ye, Greeks who sang at morn
Ere new-world sorrow of heart was born?
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once ye loved, so long ago!
Ere new-world sorrow of heart was born?
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once ye loved, so long ago!
Where are ye who in the early days
Being sweet made sweeter English ways?
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once ye loved, so long ago!
Being sweet made sweeter English ways?
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once ye loved, so long ago!
Oh, where are Iseult's ardent eyes
Coloured blue-grey like Irish skies?
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once they loved, so long ago!
Coloured blue-grey like Irish skies?
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That once they loved, so long ago!
200
Where is the mouth that sang to sleep
The blue clear charmed Italian deep?
The same shores laugh, the same waves glow
That Shelley loved so long ago!
The blue clear charmed Italian deep?
The same shores laugh, the same waves glow
That Shelley loved so long ago!
Where is the heart that mountain-height
Uplifted, and the hill-streams white?
The same hills smile, the same streams flow
That Wordsworth loved so long ago!
Uplifted, and the hill-streams white?
The same hills smile, the same streams flow
That Wordsworth loved so long ago!
Poets and lovers, all are gone,
But still the sad same world blooms on:
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That all these loved so long ago!
But still the sad same world blooms on:
The same flowers bud, the same flowers blow
That all these loved so long ago!
Thou too hast vanished, lady fair:
Thy wreath is dust; thy crown is air:
But still the mocking lilies blow
That once we loved, so long ago!
Thy wreath is dust; thy crown is air:
But still the mocking lilies blow
That once we loved, so long ago!
July 1, 1881.
201
“WHEN ALL THE TOIL IS ENDED”
When all the toil is ended, I will leave
This dreary land for ever,—I will go
Beyond the regions where the wet winds grieve
To lands of golden morn and crimson eve,
Beyond the snow!
This dreary land for ever,—I will go
Beyond the regions where the wet winds grieve
To lands of golden morn and crimson eve,
Beyond the snow!
To regions where the summer roses blow
Safe from our darkling weather's changeful stain
And where with silvery voice the clear streams flow
And through the moonlit night the lilies grow,
Beyond all pain,
Safe from our darkling weather's changeful stain
And where with silvery voice the clear streams flow
And through the moonlit night the lilies grow,
Beyond all pain,
I'll pass; and through the sunlit days I'll gain
Health, and the happier sense of lovelier things
Than those that under the fog's dreary reign
Struggle: I'll rest where in some leafy lane
The throstle sings.
Health, and the happier sense of lovelier things
Than those that under the fog's dreary reign
Struggle: I'll rest where in some leafy lane
The throstle sings.
202
Paris shall close me round with sun-bright wings
And soothe me with soft laughter, and her eyes
Full of all glory woman's love-glance brings
Shall waken old lost joys of far-off springs
And far-off skies.
And soothe me with soft laughter, and her eyes
Full of all glory woman's love-glance brings
Shall waken old lost joys of far-off springs
And far-off skies.
And Italy shall on my vision rise
And deathless Rome; yea, blue Italian seas
O'er which the Southern light-winged zephyr flies,
Waters o'er which the gondola swift hies,
Mountains and trees:
And deathless Rome; yea, blue Italian seas
O'er which the Southern light-winged zephyr flies,
Waters o'er which the gondola swift hies,
Mountains and trees:
And then to Paris and her joyous breeze
I will return, for all my heart is there;
An exile from her streets and sunny leas
I pine in these thick streets and fields that freeze
For her sweet air.
I will return, for all my heart is there;
An exile from her streets and sunny leas
I pine in these thick streets and fields that freeze
For her sweet air.
Paris, O Paris, thou to me wast fair
When as a boy I wandered through thy ways!
Now that the grey is mixing with my hair
I would once more be calm and happy where
I knew bright days.
When as a boy I wandered through thy ways!
Now that the grey is mixing with my hair
I would once more be calm and happy where
I knew bright days.
1882.
203
MAN AND THE DEMIURGUS
“Have I not hosts of stars beyond thy measure?”
God said:
“Are suns on suns not heaped like golden treasure
That I may plunge glad hands in at my pleasure
When thou art dead?
God said:
“Are suns on suns not heaped like golden treasure
That I may plunge glad hands in at my pleasure
When thou art dead?
“Am I not, past the ages' dread and wonder,
Content?
Have I no lightning-steeds whose neighing is thunder,
By whose eye-flash the heights are cloven in sunder
And smitten and rent?
Content?
Have I no lightning-steeds whose neighing is thunder,
By whose eye-flash the heights are cloven in sunder
And smitten and rent?
“Have I not love beyond thy computation,
Beyond
The fairest dreams of man or tribe or nation?
Can I through whose frame throbs the world-sensation,
Can I despond?
Beyond
The fairest dreams of man or tribe or nation?
Can I through whose frame throbs the world-sensation,
Can I despond?
204
“Is not my power through world on world extending,
Where light-beams dart?
Art thou not fearful, frail worm, of offending?”
“One thing thou hast not,” Man replied unbending:
“My heart.”
Where light-beams dart?
Art thou not fearful, frail worm, of offending?”
“One thing thou hast not,” Man replied unbending:
“My heart.”
1885.
205
“IT WERE BETTER FOR HIM—”
Better be fathoms underneath the deepWhere sea-weeds wash and strange sea-creatures creep,
Thy neck enringed with stone,
Than change the eyes and soft lips of one child
Into the hardened eyes and mouth defiled
That haunt the streets, alone.
1885.
206
A MODERN PREACHER
I
In church, a few,A pale-eyed crew;
Around, the darkness of a starless sea,
And one who guides
Through blind deaf tides
That surge and leap to windward and to lee.
II
Just gathered hereIn hope, in fear,
In doubt, in wonder, a strange wandering band,
In this ark-church
Whose tossed planks lurch
From side to side, these people kneel and stand.
207
III
“What hope,” they say,“For us to-day?
The old God is dead. What new God canst thou bring
O preacher pale?
Lo! our ship's sail
Shrieks, as the wild wind-scourges lash and sting.
IV
“Preach. We will hearWith eager ear
And wrought-up passionate heart what thou canst tell.
Is there a God?
Why must man plod
Through miles of earth that might be miles of hell?
V
“The lights withinThis church, where din
And turmoil just for one sweet moment cease,
Are glad and bright.
But what wild night
Outside! What hope for man of lasting peace!
208
VI
“Preach, preach. We loveThy face, above
The old pulpit, full of noble thought and high.
But when we leave
The church this eve,
How wails the wind across black starless sky!
VII
“Steer the ship well,Past shoals of hell,
Past white fierce waters, past the cliffs that ring
With clash of tides:
The wind derides
Our hearts and voices even while we sing.
VIII
“Yet preach thou, friend.All hath an end:
Thy hope, our doubt, the wild world's storm-tossed way.
Steer straight thy church
In noble search
Through lampless midnight for the golden day.”
1885.
209
“A YEAR AGO”
A year ago we stood beneath these temple pillars white
And watched the star-ships slowly sail across the purple night.
He asked me “Did I love him?” Oh, the answer that I gave!
A woman loves but once on earth, but once beyond the grave.
A year ago! a year ago! He has forgotten quite:
But I remember every word of love we spoke that night.
And watched the star-ships slowly sail across the purple night.
He asked me “Did I love him?” Oh, the answer that I gave!
A woman loves but once on earth, but once beyond the grave.
A year ago! a year ago! He has forgotten quite:
But I remember every word of love we spoke that night.
A year ago! a year ago! A little while it seems;
And yet 'tis long enough to prove that woman's hopes are dreams.
I stand again to-night beside the blue Ægean wave:
Again the stars shine out—they seem to shine above my grave.
For oh, a woman loves but once! When once her soul is given
She cannot love again on earth, she cannot love in heaven.
And yet 'tis long enough to prove that woman's hopes are dreams.
I stand again to-night beside the blue Ægean wave:
Again the stars shine out—they seem to shine above my grave.
For oh, a woman loves but once! When once her soul is given
She cannot love again on earth, she cannot love in heaven.
210
To-night perhaps 'neath other stars, beside another sea,
He breathes into another's ear the words he spake to me.
The cold stars sail across the sky, the cold blue ripples break:
I loved the stars and wavelets once,—but only for his sake.
O love, my tenderest hopes were dreams, and now the dreams depart:
You gave me passion for an hour, but I gave you my heart.
He breathes into another's ear the words he spake to me.
The cold stars sail across the sky, the cold blue ripples break:
I loved the stars and wavelets once,—but only for his sake.
O love, my tenderest hopes were dreams, and now the dreams depart:
You gave me passion for an hour, but I gave you my heart.
1887.
211
THE TWO PROPHETS
I
Bold was the man who ventured to declare
“There is no death!”—when every day which fled
Murmured, “I carry with me hosts of dead
And pour their souls forth on the soulless air:”
When every sunrise whispered of despair,
Saying, “Ere to-night thou also mayest be led
Along the path thy parents had to tread,
Who heard no voice, nor saw the sunlight there.”
“There is no death!”—when every day which fled
Murmured, “I carry with me hosts of dead
And pour their souls forth on the soulless air:”
When every sunrise whispered of despair,
Saying, “Ere to-night thou also mayest be led
Along the path thy parents had to tread,
Who heard no voice, nor saw the sunlight there.”
Bold was the man who ventured in the face
Of the clear certainty that all things die
To announce an endless life beyond death's gloom:
To cry, “There is a God of love and grace;
There is for each an immortality;
There is a power that can unseal the tomb.”
Of the clear certainty that all things die
To announce an endless life beyond death's gloom:
To cry, “There is a God of love and grace;
There is for each an immortality;
There is a power that can unseal the tomb.”
212
II
But bolder is the spirit who at this hour
After so many centuries would revive
Despair, to man proclaiming “Thou shalt live
For this life only, like the grass or flower.
Hope, young imagination's fairy dower,
Has passed away for ever! Toil and strive
And love. But one reward the fates can give:
Silence. The rest lies far beyond their power.”
After so many centuries would revive
Despair, to man proclaiming “Thou shalt live
For this life only, like the grass or flower.
Hope, young imagination's fairy dower,
Has passed away for ever! Toil and strive
And love. But one reward the fates can give:
Silence. The rest lies far beyond their power.”
Bold is the spirit who at this century's close
Proclaims: “The star that lighted mankind once
Now trembling towards the godless dark is driven!
Save in man's dreams your Master never rose;
The time has come for ever to renounce
All faith in God, and every hope of heaven.”
Proclaims: “The star that lighted mankind once
Now trembling towards the godless dark is driven!
Save in man's dreams your Master never rose;
The time has come for ever to renounce
All faith in God, and every hope of heaven.”
1888.
213
TWO SONNETS
I
MERCY AND JUSTICE
“Mercy, good Lord,” the sea-beach preachers pray:
“Mercy for sinful man; for he deserves
His doom, and thy great justice never swerves,—
Mercy for man in thy grim judgment-day!”
So they exclaim,—beside the sea-waves grey
O'er which that unconverted sea-gull curves.
And some with craven hearts and cowardly nerves
Bend to the lurid God their words portray.
But I—I stand secluded and apart,
And mix my spirit with the sea's great heart,
And with the voice, as it were, of all the sea
I cry: “Not mercy,—justice, we require;
Be thou true-souled, O God,—and be no liar;
Lo! that much sorrowing man demands from thee.”
September 6, 1882.
214
II
THE GREAT CHANGE
Of old the singers spake of loving ways
Of God towards man, of wondrous mercies shown:
God was the Giver of all things—man alone
Received, and homage of high love and praise
Was due to God,—altars mankind must raise;
With gladness shout or for transgressions moan.—
But now crime's torrent gushes from God's throne!
God seems to us the sinner in these days.
Of old, it seemed, the heavenly eye pursued
Sinners who fled from it beyond the light,
Cowered in the darkness, trembled at the sun.
Now man demands of God: “But art thou good?
Hast thou, Lord God, in every point done right?
Hast thou loved justice? Yea, what hast thou done?”
1888.
215
THE HOLIER SEPULCHRE
The Christian Church that stole the body of Christ
In ages past, when Christian years began;
That, shameless, robbed the human race, and priced
The priceless flesh and blood poured out for man;
In ages past, when Christian years began;
That, shameless, robbed the human race, and priced
The priceless flesh and blood poured out for man;
The Christian Church that with huge priestly scorn
Closed up man's saviour in its vaults of night,
Stealing the struggling sunshine from the morn,
In God's name battling with the God of light;
Closed up man's saviour in its vaults of night,
Stealing the struggling sunshine from the morn,
In God's name battling with the God of light;
The Christian Church that with base second stroke
Drove its proud spear-point through man's saviour's side,
Bade man adore no Jesus, but invoke
The Christ it robed in wealth and crowned with pride;
Drove its proud spear-point through man's saviour's side,
Bade man adore no Jesus, but invoke
The Christ it robed in wealth and crowned with pride;
This Church to-day hears ringing in its ears
Time's stern strong judgment-sentence, “Thou hast sinned,
And lo! thy legend of unnumbered years
Shall pass, like dreams that leave no trace behind.”
Time's stern strong judgment-sentence, “Thou hast sinned,
And lo! thy legend of unnumbered years
Shall pass, like dreams that leave no trace behind.”
216
Yea, now man's voice more mighty than the wave
Speaks, half with pity, half in deathless scorn:
Man lifts man's saviour from his second grave,
Lifts from his brow his second crown of thorn.
Speaks, half with pity, half in deathless scorn:
Man lifts man's saviour from his second grave,
Lifts from his brow his second crown of thorn.
Nobler than structures raised by Christian Art
Is Jesus' resting-place, his timeless tomb:
Christ's newer sepulchre is mankind's heart—
No starless charnel-house of poisonous gloom.
Is Jesus' resting-place, his timeless tomb:
Christ's newer sepulchre is mankind's heart—
No starless charnel-house of poisonous gloom.
217
“NOUGHT PERISHES”
Nought perishes. All love-dreams of the pastTransfigured, through all future years shall last.
June 1, 1886.
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