The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
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 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
Now behold I saw a woman in a mud-hut
Raking the white spent embers with her fingers,
And fouling her bright hair with the white ashes,
Raking the white spent embers with her fingers,
And fouling her bright hair with the white ashes,
Her mouth was very bitter with the ashes;
Her eyes with dust were blinded; and her sorrow
Sobbed in the throat of her like gurgling water.
Her eyes with dust were blinded; and her sorrow
Sobbed in the throat of her like gurgling water.
And all around the voiceless hills were hoary,
But red light scorched their edges; and above her
There was a soundless trouble of the vapours.
But red light scorched their edges; and above her
There was a soundless trouble of the vapours.
‘Whither, and O whither,’ said the woman,
‘O Spirit of the Lord, hast Thou conveyed them,
My little ones, my little son and daughter?
‘O Spirit of the Lord, hast Thou conveyed them,
My little ones, my little son and daughter?
‘For, lo! we wandered forth at early morning,
And winds were blowing round us, and their mouths
Blew rose-buds to the rose-buds, and their eyes
And winds were blowing round us, and their mouths
Blew rose-buds to the rose-buds, and their eyes
‘Looked violets at the violets, and their hair
Made sunshine in the sunshine, and their passing
Left a pleasure in the dewy leaves behind them;
Made sunshine in the sunshine, and their passing
Left a pleasure in the dewy leaves behind them;
‘And suddenly my little son looked upward,
And his eyes were dried like dew-drops; and his going
Was like a blow of fire upon my face.
And his eyes were dried like dew-drops; and his going
Was like a blow of fire upon my face.
‘And my little son was gone. My little daughter
Looked round me for him, clinging to my vesture;
But the Lord had drawn him from me, and I knew it
Looked round me for him, clinging to my vesture;
But the Lord had drawn him from me, and I knew it
‘By the sign He gives the stricken, that the lost one
Lingers nowhere on the earth, on hill or valley,
Neither underneath the grasses nor the tree-roots.
Lingers nowhere on the earth, on hill or valley,
Neither underneath the grasses nor the tree-roots.
271
‘And my shriek was like the splitting of an ice-reef,
And I sank among my hair, and all my palm
Was moist and warm where the little hand had filled it.
And I sank among my hair, and all my palm
Was moist and warm where the little hand had filled it.
‘Then I fled and sought him wildly, hither and thither—
Though I knew that he was stricken from me wholly
By the token that the Spirit gives the stricken.
Though I knew that he was stricken from me wholly
By the token that the Spirit gives the stricken.
‘I sought him in the sunlight and the starlight,
I sought him in great forests, and in waters
Where I saw mine own pale image looking at me.
I sought him in great forests, and in waters
Where I saw mine own pale image looking at me.
‘And I forgot my little bright-haired daughter,
Though her voice was like a wild-bird's far behind me,
Till the voice ceased, and the universe was silent.
Though her voice was like a wild-bird's far behind me,
Till the voice ceased, and the universe was silent.
‘And stilly, in the starlight, came I backward
To the forest where I missed him; and no voices
Brake the stillness as I stooped down in the starlight,
To the forest where I missed him; and no voices
Brake the stillness as I stooped down in the starlight,
‘And saw two little shoes filled up with dew,
And no mark of little footsteps any farther,
And knew my little daughter had gone also.’
And no mark of little footsteps any farther,
And knew my little daughter had gone also.’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |