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41
LOVE-LIES-BLEEDING WITH WOUND-WORT
43
RECOMPENSE
(For Lord Kilhacken)
That which I saved I lost
And that I lost I found,
And you are mine, oh tender little ghost,
Whose grave is holy ground.
And that I lost I found,
And you are mine, oh tender little ghost,
Whose grave is holy ground.
That which I kept is flown,
So fast the children grow,
The only child I keep to be my own
I lost long years ago.
So fast the children grow,
The only child I keep to be my own
I lost long years ago.
The little ones that stayed
Slip from me while I cry:
Oh, not so fast, so fast, you golden-head.
Swift as the wind they fly.
Slip from me while I cry:
Oh, not so fast, so fast, you golden-head.
Swift as the wind they fly.
Not two days are the same.
To-morrow will not see
To-day's young children, crested like a flame,
Gathered about my knee.
To-morrow will not see
To-day's young children, crested like a flame,
Gathered about my knee.
44
One day a day will dawn
Will see me dispossessed—
An empty nest whence singing-birds have flown.
Who shall refill the nest?
Will see me dispossessed—
An empty nest whence singing-birds have flown.
Who shall refill the nest?
The years run out like sand
To strip me of my pride;
Then in my hand will steal a clinging hand.
I keep the child who died.
To strip me of my pride;
Then in my hand will steal a clinging hand.
I keep the child who died.
God gives and does not lend
This one lamb of the fold;
And he will need his mother to the end
And never will grow old.
This one lamb of the fold;
And he will need his mother to the end
And never will grow old.
45
A BIRTH-NIGHT SONG
The Child is rocked on Mary's knee,
Cold in the stall this bitter night,
And “Lullalay-loo,” soft singeth she,
“My little Boy and Heaven's Delight!”
When singing stars went up the sky
The Prince of Peace oped a sweet eye.
Cold in the stall this bitter night,
And “Lullalay-loo,” soft singeth she,
“My little Boy and Heaven's Delight!”
When singing stars went up the sky
The Prince of Peace oped a sweet eye.
His Highness now how small He lies!
He to be God and Very God!
A Jacob's ladder spans the skies
Whereof each rung is angel-trod,
And all their carols are of Peace,
Though the sick world hath little ease.
He to be God and Very God!
A Jacob's ladder spans the skies
Whereof each rung is angel-trod,
And all their carols are of Peace,
Though the sick world hath little ease.
Come in, poor war-worn folk, and rest;
Kneel where the sinless creatures kneel;
The Babe snugged warm in Mother's breast,
He is your Wound-Wort, your All-Heal
Balsam for hurts that throb and smart,
Small Rose of Love on Mary's heart.
Kneel where the sinless creatures kneel;
The Babe snugged warm in Mother's breast,
He is your Wound-Wort, your All-Heal
Balsam for hurts that throb and smart,
Small Rose of Love on Mary's heart.
46
Shut close within His hand so small
The sick heart's medicine; not a sword.
Come in, come in, sad people all,
Here is your ancient peace restored!
“Lullalay-loo,” sings Mary mild,
Kissing her God, her Lamb, her Child.
The sick heart's medicine; not a sword.
Come in, come in, sad people all,
Here is your ancient peace restored!
“Lullalay-loo,” sings Mary mild,
Kissing her God, her Lamb, her Child.
47
THE CROWN
She had twelve stars for diadem;
She had for footstool the full moon;
Her quiet eyes, outshining them,
Kept memories of the night and noon
And the still morns at Nazareth
When in her arms the Child drew breath.
She had for footstool the full moon;
Her quiet eyes, outshining them,
Kept memories of the night and noon
And the still morns at Nazareth
When in her arms the Child drew breath.
So safe, so warm, He slept by her,
In her enfolding arms at peace,
Her milky babe, little and dear;
And yet the Tree that should be His
Grew in the forest, wide and high,
Whose branches should fill all the sky.
In her enfolding arms at peace,
Her milky babe, little and dear;
And yet the Tree that should be His
Grew in the forest, wide and high,
Whose branches should fill all the sky.
He made twelve stars into her crown
And set the moon below her feet.
He was King in Jerusalem Town,
With twelve spines for His Coronet
To pierce the brain and blood and bone,
Were made for Man's Redemption.
And set the moon below her feet.
He was King in Jerusalem Town,
With twelve spines for His Coronet
To pierce the brain and blood and bone,
Were made for Man's Redemption.
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Oh, when she answered Gabriel
With “Be it done!” could she foresee
The high pangs that she took as well?
With Bethlehem should be Calvary?
Or was that moment of high bliss
Born with sharp pangs, fierce agonies?
With “Be it done!” could she foresee
The high pangs that she took as well?
With Bethlehem should be Calvary?
Or was that moment of high bliss
Born with sharp pangs, fierce agonies?
Hath she beneath her Crown of Stars
Remem brance of the thorns wherewith
Her people crowned her Son? What scars,
Redder than roses in a wreath,
Doth she wear in a coronal
Under the lights that rise and fall?
Remem brance of the thorns wherewith
Her people crowned her Son? What scars,
Redder than roses in a wreath,
Doth she wear in a coronal
Under the lights that rise and fall?
49
A WOMAN COMMENDS HER LITTLE SON
To the aid of my little son
I call all the magnalities—
Archangel, Dominion,
Powers and Principalities.
I call all the magnalities—
Archangel, Dominion,
Powers and Principalities.
Mary without a stain,
Joseph that was her spouse,
All God's women and men,
Out of His glorious House.
Joseph that was her spouse,
All God's women and men,
Out of His glorious House.
The Twelve Apostles by him:
Matthew and Mark and John,
Luke, the Evangelists nigh him,
So he fight not alone.
Matthew and Mark and John,
Luke, the Evangelists nigh him,
So he fight not alone.
Patrick, Columcille, Bride—
The Saints of the Irish nation;
Keiran, Kevin beside,
In the death and the desolation.
The Saints of the Irish nation;
Keiran, Kevin beside,
In the death and the desolation.
50
Listen, ye soldier saints,
Sebastian, Ignatius, Joan,
Be by his side; if he faints,
Strengthen my little son.
Sebastian, Ignatius, Joan,
Be by his side; if he faints,
Strengthen my little son.
In the Side of Christ I lay him,
In the Wound that the spear made;
In the pierced Hands I stay him,
So I am not afraid.
In the Wound that the spear made;
In the pierced Hands I stay him,
So I am not afraid.
On the knees of the Blessed Mary
And in the fold of her arm,
Refuge and sanctuary
Where he shall take no harm.
And in the fold of her arm,
Refuge and sanctuary
Where he shall take no harm.
To the Wound in the Heart of Christ,
To the Trinity Three in One,
To the Blood spilled out, unpriced,
For love of my little son.
To the Trinity Three in One,
To the Blood spilled out, unpriced,
For love of my little son.
51
THE YOUNG SOLDIER
Since you were so young, child, I shall
Not fear your noon or even-fall,
Nor dread you are taken unawares,
Nor weary Heaven with many prayers.
Not fear your noon or even-fall,
Nor dread you are taken unawares,
Nor weary Heaven with many prayers.
I shall not wake at night afraid
Of where your darling head is laid,
Nor say: “He finds the wind too rough,
Dear God!” for now the wind's left off.
Of where your darling head is laid,
Nor say: “He finds the wind too rough,
Dear God!” for now the wind's left off.
I shall have ease though lightnings leap,
Nor hear the thunder in my sleep,
Nor dread the crying of the seas,
Nor any mountain precipice.
Nor hear the thunder in my sleep,
Nor dread the crying of the seas,
Nor any mountain precipice.
God pity her who lies awake
Unquiet for some darling sake!
Soft sleeps my little son to-night,
Where many stars make candlelight!
Unquiet for some darling sake!
Soft sleeps my little son to-night,
Where many stars make candlelight!
52
His sword is laid beside his knees;
God knows my little son hath ease—
And I, his mother, may go sleep
And pray for them who wake and weep.
God knows my little son hath ease—
And I, his mother, may go sleep
And pray for them who wake and weep.
53
THE BOYS OF THE HOUSE
(For Valentine and Hubert Blake)
Young martyrs of the war,
Who with your bright eyes star
The shadows grey;
Who steal at dawn and gloam
In each beloved room
So pale, so gay.
Who with your bright eyes star
The shadows grey;
Who steal at dawn and gloam
In each beloved room
So pale, so gay.
Boys who will not grow old,
Peach cheek and hair of gold,
Smile and are flown;
You will come back again,
In the darkness and the rain,
In the dusk, in the dawn.
Peach cheek and hair of gold,
Smile and are flown;
You will come back again,
In the darkness and the rain,
In the dusk, in the dawn.
Remember, oh, dear Two,
Two who came after you
Who love, as you loved,
The grey house and the woods,
All the sweet solitudes
You loved, approved.
Two who came after you
Who love, as you loved,
The grey house and the woods,
All the sweet solitudes
You loved, approved.
54
Dear martyrs of the war,
Remember, where you are,
Boys who have still
To do, to bear, to attain
To your glory and your gain—
By what steep hill?
Remember, where you are,
Boys who have still
To do, to bear, to attain
To your glory and your gain—
By what steep hill?
55
ALIENATION
For the first time since he was born
Her son, her rose without a thorn,
They are at variance, they who were
Always such closest friends and dear.
Another face is in his dreams
Under the sunbeams and moonbeams.
Her son, her rose without a thorn,
They are at variance, they who were
Always such closest friends and dear.
Another face is in his dreams
Under the sunbeams and moonbeams.
In his changed glances she discovers
Something, some chill between two lovers—
Something of fear, and oh, it hurts!
But shall not Love have its deserts
And win forgiveness, though she still
Sets her poor will against his will?
Something, some chill between two lovers—
Something of fear, and oh, it hurts!
But shall not Love have its deserts
And win forgiveness, though she still
Sets her poor will against his will?
For all day long the battle calls,
And in the quiet evenfalls,
And in the night which else is dumb,
He hears the bugle and the drum.
And the wild longing in him stirs
For the fierce battle. He's not hers.
And in the quiet evenfalls,
And in the night which else is dumb,
He hears the bugle and the drum.
And the wild longing in him stirs
For the fierce battle. He's not hers.
56
But she her hidden way will keep,
Striving against him even in sleep,
Praying against him loud and low,
“Pity me, so he may not go!”
Calling on Heaven that it conspire
Against him and his heart's desire.
Striving against him even in sleep,
Praying against him loud and low,
“Pity me, so he may not go!”
Calling on Heaven that it conspire
Against him and his heart's desire.
God pity mothers when their sons
Grow cold, that were their little ones!
Grow cold, that were their little ones!
57
ANY MOTHER
“What's the news? Now tell it me.”
“Allenby again advances.”
“No, it is not Allenby
But my boy, straight as a lance is.
“Allenby again advances.”
“No, it is not Allenby
But my boy, straight as a lance is.
“Oh, my boy it is that runs,
Hurls his young and slender body
On the dread death-dealing guns.
Oh, he's down! his head is bloody!”
Hurls his young and slender body
On the dread death-dealing guns.
Oh, he's down! his head is bloody!”
“Haig's offensive has begun.”
“Say not Haig's nor any other,
Since it is my one sweet son
In the gases' risk and smother.
“Say not Haig's nor any other,
Since it is my one sweet son
In the gases' risk and smother.
“He is taken by the throat,
In the bursting flame will quiver,
He the billet for all shot,
He the shell's objective ever.”
In the bursting flame will quiver,
He the billet for all shot,
He the shell's objective ever.”
58
So not Allenby nor Haig,
But her darling goes to battle.
All the world's red mist and vague
Shattered by the scream and rattle.
But her darling goes to battle.
All the world's red mist and vague
Shattered by the scream and rattle.
Just one slender shape she sees,
One bright head tossed hither, thither;
Oh, if he goes down the seas
Whelm her and the world together!
One bright head tossed hither, thither;
Oh, if he goes down the seas
Whelm her and the world together!
59
PRAYER AT NIGHT
Lord, for the one who dies alone
This night without companion,
I cannot rest, I cannot sleep.
O shepherd of the piteous sheep
Run with Thy crook, and lift in haste
The poor head to Thy loving breast.
This night without companion,
I cannot rest, I cannot sleep.
O shepherd of the piteous sheep
Run with Thy crook, and lift in haste
The poor head to Thy loving breast.
Oh slake his deadly thirst from streams
Of Paradise, and give him dreams
Of the mild weather, the green sward.
Bind up his bitter wounds, O Lord,
And give him comfort. Let him know
His Shepherd 'tis that loves him so.
Of Paradise, and give him dreams
Of the mild weather, the green sward.
Bind up his bitter wounds, O Lord,
And give him comfort. Let him know
His Shepherd 'tis that loves him so.
Thou countest Thy flock: not one is lost
But Thou goest seeking, for Thou knowest
The poor things creep away to die
Where none shall find save Thou art nigh.
Thou tak'st them to Thy arms, Thy knees,
And Thy sick lambs have sweetest ease.
But Thou goest seeking, for Thou knowest
The poor things creep away to die
Where none shall find save Thou art nigh.
Thou tak'st them to Thy arms, Thy knees,
And Thy sick lambs have sweetest ease.
60
Now I shall close my eyes in sleep,
Nor fret since they are Thine to keep,
Oh, happy sheep, to have such care,
The poorest, Love's own prisoner,
Who comforts as his mother might,
Rocking him into sleep at night.
Nor fret since they are Thine to keep,
Oh, happy sheep, to have such care,
The poorest, Love's own prisoner,
Who comforts as his mother might,
Rocking him into sleep at night.
61
THE VISION
(Katia: Easter Sunday, 1916)
She had a vision in the dark
Ere the first lark from nest took flight;
She saw her own son from fierce strife
Win to new Life and new Delight.
Ere the first lark from nest took flight;
She saw her own son from fierce strife
Win to new Life and new Delight.
The clouds were tattered round his head
As sore bested he fought his foe,
Where in the conflict he was ta'en
And slain—she did not see it so.
As sore bested he fought his foe,
Where in the conflict he was ta'en
And slain—she did not see it so.
She saw indeed his bitter case
In that sad place, parched, without shade,
And how her Christian Knight must fall
In Paynim thrall, should Heaven not aid.
In that sad place, parched, without shade,
And how her Christian Knight must fall
In Paynim thrall, should Heaven not aid.
But now what light burns in the cloud?
What voices loud against his ear?
St. Andrew and St. Patrick ride
Close by his side; St. George is near.
What voices loud against his ear?
St. Andrew and St. Patrick ride
Close by his side; St. George is near.
62
His banner floats upon the breeze,
Like a gold fleece it wraps him round—
So, cap-à-pie from head to knee,
His enemy he strikes to ground.
Like a gold fleece it wraps him round—
So, cap-à-pie from head to knee,
His enemy he strikes to ground.
He's won the day, he's won the day!
See the light play upon his brow!
Brave in his armour and upright
The Christian Knight is riding now.
See the light play upon his brow!
Brave in his armour and upright
The Christian Knight is riding now.
She had that vision of her son
When by the moon asleep she lay—
And woke to singing birds and dew,
And knew that it was Easter Day.
When by the moon asleep she lay—
And woke to singing birds and dew,
And knew that it was Easter Day.
63
A COLLOQUY
(For M. W.)
“When you get to Heaven, seek and find my boy.
Mother him!” “Until you come?” “I shall never come.
Earth was good enough for me who had all my joy
In my Love, my Light of home.
Mother him!” “Until you come?” “I shall never come.
Earth was good enough for me who had all my joy
In my Love, my Light of home.
“But to him be given, in overflowing measure,
All the joys your Heaven can give if your God be just!
He, my boy slain in his youth to serve some mad king's pleasure
And his dreams and hopes in dust.”
All the joys your Heaven can give if your God be just!
He, my boy slain in his youth to serve some mad king's pleasure
And his dreams and hopes in dust.”
“How shall I know him where so many boys are?
Multitudes and multitudes ever they increase.”
“Oh, my boy is young and tall, with bird-russet hair
And quiet eyes of peace.
Multitudes and multitudes ever they increase.”
“Oh, my boy is young and tall, with bird-russet hair
And quiet eyes of peace.
64
“He who was killed in a quarrel not his own!
All his days he had good-will to his fellow-men.
Oh, your God is kind and just, shall He not atone
And the dark ways be made plain?
All his days he had good-will to his fellow-men.
Oh, your God is kind and just, shall He not atone
And the dark ways be made plain?
“Seek my son and find him, so he shall not miss
Me, his mother-comrade, through his length of days.”
“Oh, but he would turn from a strange woman's kiss
And ask where his mother delays.
Me, his mother-comrade, through his length of days.”
“Oh, but he would turn from a strange woman's kiss
And ask where his mother delays.
“So be up and going for the way's not long!
God who kissed His Mother dear, a Babe in Nazareth,
Knows how they need mother-love, the dear and precious young,
In the new Life where is no Death.”
God who kissed His Mother dear, a Babe in Nazareth,
Knows how they need mother-love, the dear and precious young,
In the new Life where is no Death.”
65
PALESTINE: 1917
How strange if it should fall to you,
To me, our boys should do the deed
The great Crusaders failed to do!
To win Christ's Sepulchre: to bleed,
So the immortal dream come true.
To me, our boys should do the deed
The great Crusaders failed to do!
To win Christ's Sepulchre: to bleed,
So the immortal dream come true.
What ghosts now throng the Holy Ground,
With rusted armour, dinted sword,
Listening? The earth shakes with the sound;
The wind brings hither a fierce word:
To arms, to arms, Sons of Mabound!
With rusted armour, dinted sword,
Listening? The earth shakes with the sound;
The wind brings hither a fierce word:
To arms, to arms, Sons of Mabound!
In many a quiet cloister grey
Cross-legged Crusaders, men of stone,
Quiver and stir the Eastward way,
As they would spring up and be gone
To the Great Day, to the Great Day.
Cross-legged Crusaders, men of stone,
Quiver and stir the Eastward way,
As they would spring up and be gone
To the Great Day, to the Great Day.
66
Godfrey and Lion-Heart and all
The splendours of the faithful years
Watch our young sons from the Knights' stall,
Ready to clap hands to their spears
If ill befall, if ill befall.
The splendours of the faithful years
Watch our young sons from the Knights' stall,
Ready to clap hands to their spears
If ill befall, if ill befall.
They say: It is the Child's Crusade
Was talked of in our early Spring.
St. George, St. Denis, to their aid!
That was a boy's voice challenging,
Shrill like a bugle, unafraid!
Was talked of in our early Spring.
St. George, St. Denis, to their aid!
That was a boy's voice challenging,
Shrill like a bugle, unafraid!
Most wonderful, if your son, my son,
Should win the Holy Thing at last!
The might of Heathenesse be undone,
The strong towers down, the gate unfast,
Lord Christ come to His own, His own.
Should win the Holy Thing at last!
The might of Heathenesse be undone,
The strong towers down, the gate unfast,
Lord Christ come to His own, His own.
67
PILGRIMS TO THE EAST
This Christmas-time my son will come,
God willing, to the Holy Place
And by the manger's little room
Will bend his knee and bow his face,
Eager, with shepherds and with kings,
For to behold the Holy Things.
God willing, to the Holy Place
And by the manger's little room
Will bend his knee and bow his face,
Eager, with shepherds and with kings,
For to behold the Holy Things.
The very child I made will see,
God willing, little Bethlehem,
The Garden of the Agony,
Olivet and Jerusalem
And climb to Calvary's sacred hill—
Ah, but the world is Calvary still!
God willing, little Bethlehem,
The Garden of the Agony,
Olivet and Jerusalem
And climb to Calvary's sacred hill—
Ah, but the world is Calvary still!
My own son's feet the dust shall press,
God willing, where the Holy Feet
Passed on His Father's business:
And some high room above the street
Shall stir a memory of that Feast
Where He himself was Eucharist.
God willing, where the Holy Feet
Passed on His Father's business:
And some high room above the street
Shall stir a memory of that Feast
Where He himself was Eucharist.
68
Yea, by the Gate called Beautiful
My son, my little son, shall go
And bathe in Siloam's healing pool.
Yet if God will not have it so
At least my son, in His high Name,
Has travelled towards Jerusalem.
My son, my little son, shall go
And bathe in Siloam's healing pool.
Yet if God will not have it so
At least my son, in His high Name,
Has travelled towards Jerusalem.
69
COMFORT
Now she need dread no more to grow
Too old for him, she need not know
The bitterness when he who was
All hers turns to some younger face,
And she his mother stands aside,
Bidding her heart be satisfied.
Too old for him, she need not know
The bitterness when he who was
All hers turns to some younger face,
And she his mother stands aside,
Bidding her heart be satisfied.
She need not to her own heart say,
“Fool, to be jealous! Now give way.
The young are for the young, and all
The new things are but natural.
Cast no least shadow on his feast;
Be glad just to be second best.”
“Fool, to be jealous! Now give way.
The young are for the young, and all
The new things are but natural.
Cast no least shadow on his feast;
Be glad just to be second best.”
She need not to her chill heart tell
She's loved a different way, but well.
And like that bird who leans her heart
Upon a thorn to ease its smart
Turn to the child who's taken his love
So that her darling son approve.
She's loved a different way, but well.
And like that bird who leans her heart
Upon a thorn to ease its smart
Turn to the child who's taken his love
So that her darling son approve.
70
Now she's no longer dispossessed—
For second best's but second best—
He's hers for all Eternity
And she his one felicity.
Her little son, as when he lay
Small in her arms one heavenly day.
For second best's but second best—
He's hers for all Eternity
And she his one felicity.
Her little son, as when he lay
Small in her arms one heavenly day.
71
THE REFRESHMENT
If I could have foreseen this hour,
What terror and anguish I had seen!
And not this time of joy at flower,
Cool waters and a garden green.
What terror and anguish I had seen!
And not this time of joy at flower,
Cool waters and a garden green.
All day the battle in the East
Thunders. Dear Angels, keep him well!
His mother sits as to a feast.
O heart of steel invulnerable!
Thunders. Dear Angels, keep him well!
His mother sits as to a feast.
O heart of steel invulnerable!
All night I sleep the young child's sleep
And waken to the robin's song,
Blithe as the bird. Dear Angels, keep
My darling the sharp spears among.
And waken to the robin's song,
Blithe as the bird. Dear Angels, keep
My darling the sharp spears among.
Ah now, I know whose Arms enfold,
I rest on such a mighty Heart;
He hides my eyes lest they behold,
In a most heavenly place apart.
I rest on such a mighty Heart;
He hides my eyes lest they behold,
In a most heavenly place apart.
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Lord, if this ease be but a lull
Ere the deep seas are over my head,
I shall have had, O Beautiful!
This hour joy-filled and comforted.
Ere the deep seas are over my head,
I shall have had, O Beautiful!
This hour joy-filled and comforted.
73
THE PROMISE
To you and you it shall be given,
As unto Mary her lost Heaven;
Her Son and your son come
Alive out of the grave and gloom.
As unto Mary her lost Heaven;
Her Son and your son come
Alive out of the grave and gloom.
Like hers your bliss is pre-ordained
To see the wounds healed and unstained;
Yea, you shall kiss with her
Where the sharp blade hath left no scar.
To see the wounds healed and unstained;
Yea, you shall kiss with her
Where the sharp blade hath left no scar.
They shall come in warm to your cold
Dropped arms that found naught to enfold,
And on your heart be laid
The young, the beloved, thorn-crowned head.
Dropped arms that found naught to enfold,
And on your heart be laid
The young, the beloved, thorn-crowned head.
Sudden some dawning or some eve
Your dead son shall come in alive,
As once came Mary's Son;
The lost, the incredible Heaven be won.
Your dead son shall come in alive,
As once came Mary's Son;
The lost, the incredible Heaven be won.
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