 | Ballads of the North and Other Poems |  |
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THE SHADE OF CHATTERTON.
Brooke Street, Holborn.
The church on winter afternoons
Is warm, is dark,
The cold wind whistles down the street,
Sighs and moans,—hark!
Out of a hundred years of waste,
Of seas without a mark,
The dove on weary wing beats back
To the ark.
Is warm, is dark,
The cold wind whistles down the street,
Sighs and moans,—hark!
Out of a hundred years of waste,
Of seas without a mark,
The dove on weary wing beats back
To the ark.
Oh, I am poorer than you all,
More weak, more thin;
Oh, I go mourning all alone,
Unsaved from sin.
I will go out before your Feasts
And glorious Songs begin;
Let me in when the lights are low,
Let me in!
More weak, more thin;
Oh, I go mourning all alone,
Unsaved from sin.
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And glorious Songs begin;
Let me in when the lights are low,
Let me in!
Oh, the cold fogs, for those who rest
Not in the tomb!
Oh, it is cold along the street,
In sleet and gloom!
Oh, it was cold a hundred years
Up in the haunted room!
I sat and shivered comfortless
For my doom.
Not in the tomb!
Oh, it is cold along the street,
In sleet and gloom!
Oh, it was cold a hundred years
Up in the haunted room!
I sat and shivered comfortless
For my doom.
I left a name, a short sad tale,
A mournful shade;
Some words of pity followed me,
Men praised, none prayed;
Careless, a withered laurel leaf
Upon my grave they laid;
Then they forgot me, till you came
To my aid.
A mournful shade;
Some words of pity followed me,
Men praised, none prayed;
Careless, a withered laurel leaf
Upon my grave they laid;
Then they forgot me, till you came
To my aid.
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You built a church for sanctuary,
Thither I fled;
You worshipped there, I listened to
The words you said;
You kept the vigils of the year,
Remembering the dead;
You wrote my name, by all who pass
To be read.
Thither I fled;
You worshipped there, I listened to
The words you said;
You kept the vigils of the year,
Remembering the dead;
You wrote my name, by all who pass
To be read.
A Cross upon the door drives ill
Spirits away;
I clasped it close, it was the first
That came my way;
I kissed it weeping,—‘Oh, how long
I waited for this day!’
I came unbidden with the rest,
Let me stay!
Spirits away;
I clasped it close, it was the first
That came my way;
I kissed it weeping,—‘Oh, how long
I waited for this day!’
I came unbidden with the rest,
Let me stay!
I haunt the empty space between
The font and door;
When you go home I stay on guard,
Your janitor;
I do not sleep at nights, but they
Seem shorter than before;
A shadow in the shadow I lie
On the floor.
The font and door;
When you go home I stay on guard,
Your janitor;
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Seem shorter than before;
A shadow in the shadow I lie
On the floor.
Far off I see your Altar Lights,
I hear your Song;
The church is filled, but I am left
Out of the throng.
Oh, I am Thine, though spurned of Thee!
Have I then done Thee wrong?
Out of the deeps I call on Thee,—
For how long?
I hear your Song;
The church is filled, but I am left
Out of the throng.
Oh, I am Thine, though spurned of Thee!
Have I then done Thee wrong?
Out of the deeps I call on Thee,—
For how long?
I suffer in your midst, so much
At least I share;
I love, though I am not beloved,
My soul lies bare:
The pale ghosts cannot be forbid
To pray, and wail in prayer;
You could not sweep away my sighs
From the air.
At least I share;
I love, though I am not beloved,
My soul lies bare:
The pale ghosts cannot be forbid
To pray, and wail in prayer;
You could not sweep away my sighs
From the air.
115
I do not know your Christmas Day,
I keep your Lent;
You know the Father's face and hand,
Above you bent;
If He would have me for His slave,
I would be well content;
With bleeding heart I kneel with you,
Penitent.
I keep your Lent;
You know the Father's face and hand,
Above you bent;
If He would have me for His slave,
I would be well content;
With bleeding heart I kneel with you,
Penitent.
All glorious things within me stirred,
As in the bud;
Heroic deeds and wonderful
Throbbed in my blood;
Dim and wild echoes came to me
Along time's rolling flood;
I wove them into words, I half
Understood.
As in the bud;
Heroic deeds and wonderful
Throbbed in my blood;
Dim and wild echoes came to me
Along time's rolling flood;
I wove them into words, I half
Understood.
The creed of Christ was spoken round,
I knew it not.
Wild music sounded in my brain,
My heart was hot;
The fires of hell, the fires of heaven
Were mingled in this spot;
I had no sign, it seemed as if
Heaven forgot.
I knew it not.
Wild music sounded in my brain,
My heart was hot;
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Were mingled in this spot;
I had no sign, it seemed as if
Heaven forgot.
O sorrow of fate! the seasons keep
Their time on earth:
Why should the seasons of the heavens
Fail of their mirth?
Of daisies and of primroses
The May-Day hath no dearth;
But the Flower of the Gods in January
Came to birth.
Their time on earth:
Why should the seasons of the heavens
Fail of their mirth?
Of daisies and of primroses
The May-Day hath no dearth;
But the Flower of the Gods in January
Came to birth.
Faces that were unseen by me,
Voices unheard!
I would have waited on your will,
For one kind word.
I could have lived! I would have been
Your happy singing-bird;
You should have been more glad for me,
More heart-stirred.
Voices unheard!
I would have waited on your will,
For one kind word.
I could have lived! I would have been
Your happy singing-bird;
You should have been more glad for me,
More heart-stirred.
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I pass you, though you see me not,
Along the street;
I watch your coming as for friends,
Kind eyes I meet:
The pavement echoes with the tread
Of ministering feet;
In the grey morning I am first
Out to greet.
Along the street;
I watch your coming as for friends,
Kind eyes I meet:
The pavement echoes with the tread
Of ministering feet;
In the grey morning I am first
Out to greet.
O boys to-day! in Bands of Hope,
In Guild, in Roll,
One of your days of everyday
Had saved my soul;
One word of all the words you hear
Had made my spirit whole;
I would have begged your wasted crumbs
For my dole.
In Guild, in Roll,
One of your days of everyday
Had saved my soul;
One word of all the words you hear
Had made my spirit whole;
I would have begged your wasted crumbs
For my dole.
You hunger, but you will not starve
Without a friend;
There are dark times,—you have a hope
Lights up the end;
You toil, but others toil with you,
For you their lives they spend;
You fall,—hands are stretched out to you,
To amend.
Without a friend;
There are dark times,—you have a hope
Lights up the end;
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For you their lives they spend;
You fall,—hands are stretched out to you,
To amend.
O kindly led, be kind to me,
Comfort me too!
I was as young as you, give me
A place with you.
Of all the gifts so freely given,
Leave me at least a few;
Spare me sometimes out of your prayers
One or two.
Comfort me too!
I was as young as you, give me
A place with you.
Of all the gifts so freely given,
Leave me at least a few;
Spare me sometimes out of your prayers
One or two.
O priests, who daily minister,
Give me some sign!
For me who have but tears to drink,
Where you pour wine.
Is there no bond of fellowship,
Our hearts to intertwine?
When you confess the people's sins,
Speak for mine!
Give me some sign!
For me who have but tears to drink,
Where you pour wine.
Is there no bond of fellowship,
Our hearts to intertwine?
When you confess the people's sins,
Speak for mine!
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I am no longer desolate,
I have a home;
Familiar footsteps come and go
Amidst the gloom:
Yours is the Children's Bread,—to wait
The Master exiles some:
I shall be watching here, when next
He shall come.
I have a home;
Familiar footsteps come and go
Amidst the gloom:
Yours is the Children's Bread,—to wait
The Master exiles some:
I shall be watching here, when next
He shall come.
| Ballads of the North and Other Poems | |