 | In a garden and other poems |  |
61
RELIGIOUS PIECES
63
THE TREE OF LIFE
A Recognition in four Seasons
Argument
A prophet, desiring to recover for men the fruit of the Tree of Life, seems to find Paradise by certain traditional signs of beauty in nature. He is further persuaded by observing the beauty and innocence of children. By and by he comes upon the Tree of Knowledge, whose fruit, now old, he discerns to be evil; but from which, to his desire, new is brought forth, which is good. At each recognition one of the Guardian Angels of the Tree of Life is withdrawn, until there is left only the Angel of Death, in the light of whose sword he perceives it. The Angels' songs are not heard by the prophet.
I. Spring
ProphetO tree of life, blissful tree,
Old as the world, still springing green,
Planted, watered by God; whose fruit
Hath year by year fallen about the root,
And century by century;
Grant me that I thy glory unseen
At last attain to see!
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The flame of our eyes still hideth
The fatal tree:
Which God in charge confideth
That none may see,
Till 'gainst our light advances
A purer ray,
And melts with fervid glances
Our swords of day.
Prophet
This garden I consider: if not the wise
Repute it Paradise,
The wise may err and ancient fame be lost;
As Ophir on the swart Arabian coast,—
Whence she, of Saba queen,
In silk raiment and gold,
Bearing spices manifold,
Not unlike this lily's purer sheen,
Came a weary way to salute Solomon,
Fainting to see, and fainted having seen
Such wisdom dazzled from his throne,—
Now Ophir lies unknown;
Yet stumbling haply on gold, a man shall say
Who feeds his flocks by the well,
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A like token recover, and tell.
Chorus of Angels
The fire of our heart presages
(And gins to dim,)
That though through ageless ages
We wait for him,
He comes; our glory retires,
And shrinks from strife,
Folding in closer fires
The Tree of Life.
Prophet
Goeth up a mist,
To water the ground from the four streams at even;
Wrapt in a veil of amethyst
The trees and thickets wait for Spring to appear,
An angel out of heaven,
Bringing apparel new for the new year;
In the soft light the birds
Reset to the loved air the eternal words,
And in the woods primroses peer.
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He hath seen me with eyes of wonder
And named my name,
My shield is riven in sunder,
And quencht my flame:
My task is done, and rewarded,
If faithfully;
By others now is guarded
The mystic tree.
II. Summer
Prophet
O tree of life, blessed tree,
When shall I thy beauty attain to see?
New fledged ev'n now, new canopied with green,
(Not darkening ever as these in brooding heat,)
To beasts of the field a screen,
A shadowy bower for weary eyes and feet:
Tree by tree musing, I find not thee.
When shall I thy beauty attain to see?
New fledged ev'n now, new canopied with green,
(Not darkening ever as these in brooding heat,)
To beasts of the field a screen,
A shadowy bower for weary eyes and feet:
Tree by tree musing, I find not thee.
See, in the rippling water the children at play,
Flashing hither and thither, diamonded with spray;
Lithe and fair their limbs, their hearts light and gay—
As fair as they of Niobe;
Divinely fair, but too divinely famed;
Not so now let it be.
Children of Adam these by birth proclaimed,
Clasping a mother's breast, a father's knee,
By father's father named.
Ay, but see, but see,
Their mien how high, how free their spirit!
They are naked and not ashamed
Of that translucent veil, that symmetry.
How they shout for glee!
It is the primal joy, and not the curse they inherit.
A child of Adam, a child of God can he be?
O look, look and see!
Flashing hither and thither, diamonded with spray;
Lithe and fair their limbs, their hearts light and gay—
As fair as they of Niobe;
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Not so now let it be.
Children of Adam these by birth proclaimed,
Clasping a mother's breast, a father's knee,
By father's father named.
Ay, but see, but see,
Their mien how high, how free their spirit!
They are naked and not ashamed
Of that translucent veil, that symmetry.
How they shout for glee!
It is the primal joy, and not the curse they inherit.
A child of Adam, a child of God can he be?
O look, look and see!
The Angels of Children
His ear through nature's noises,
Where'er he trod,
Could hear in the children's voices
The praise of God.
Our task is done, and rewarded,
If faithfully,
By others now is guarded
The mystic tree.
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III. Autumn
Prophet
Say who are ye upon this bank reclining,
At random laid,
Where loaded boughs a diaper intertwining
Of fragrant shade,
Stretch down their fruits to cheer the heart's repining.
At random laid,
Where loaded boughs a diaper intertwining
Of fragrant shade,
Stretch down their fruits to cheer the heart's repining.
They hear me not, asleep, or drunken, or (ah!) dead.
O Tree of Knowledge, 'tis thou, tree divine
Of good and ill;—trembling, I view thee.
To me, as them, thy golden apples incline,
Able to slake my thirst, or else undo me.
Which shall I pluck, which dread
Of all their goodlihead?
If roots be twain, from which there flows
To these elixir, poison to those,
How can I track their currents through the stem
Which bears and buries them?
Nay, but it cannot be the tree of good;
'Tis utter evil; to nearer view
The fruit dislustres, dull of hue,
All its ripe vermilion vanished,
Dead fruit, not human food;
And these mistaking souls from life are banished.
O Tree of Knowledge, 'tis thou, tree divine
Of good and ill;—trembling, I view thee.
To me, as them, thy golden apples incline,
Able to slake my thirst, or else undo me.
Which shall I pluck, which dread
Of all their goodlihead?
If roots be twain, from which there flows
To these elixir, poison to those,
How can I track their currents through the stem
Which bears and buries them?
Nay, but it cannot be the tree of good;
'Tis utter evil; to nearer view
The fruit dislustres, dull of hue,
All its ripe vermilion vanished,
Dead fruit, not human food;
And these mistaking souls from life are banished.
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But see,—a wonder,—lo, on each branch swells
A new fruit ruddy-rinded, that smells
Freshly, and from their places in decay
The old shrivel, and drop away.
The ripeness allures to taste, O what should stay me?
Ill was the old, but the new is goodly and sweet;
A blessing is in it, desire to greet,
Not a curse to slay me;
(O divine the taste!)
Of the blind to open the eyes,
Deaf ears to unstop, make wise
The feeble-hearted, and to-day (O haste!)
For these poor dead the tree of life display!
A new fruit ruddy-rinded, that smells
Freshly, and from their places in decay
The old shrivel, and drop away.
The ripeness allures to taste, O what should stay me?
Ill was the old, but the new is goodly and sweet;
A blessing is in it, desire to greet,
Not a curse to slay me;
(O divine the taste!)
Of the blind to open the eyes,
Deaf ears to unstop, make wise
The feeble-hearted, and to-day (O haste!)
For these poor dead the tree of life display!
Angel of the Tree of Divine Knowledge
The old fruit which evil bringeth
He hath eschewed;
I breathe, and a new fruit springeth;
He saw it good.
My task is done; and rewarded,
If faithfully;
By others now is guarded
The mystic Tree.
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IV. Winter
ProphetI had thought ere this to have blest mine eyes
With thy vision benign, immortal tree;
For since that fruit, more than with Euphrasy,
My spirits are all alert, my sense more keen.
Nor is the north that chides with the stript boughs
An enemy, if it shows
All these but mortal, though in Paradise.
But thou, O still unseen,
Come into sight; not yet I faint, but abide
And ever abide, yearning thee to behold.
Thee following, this girdling forest wide,
My heart by hope made bold,
I have laboured through, and now emerge at length
Torn by the briers, spent my strength;
But branches wintry-bare deny the sheen
Of the amaranthine leaves and fruit of gold.
Till now at last the light
Fails from my hope as from the heaven,
Where marshal the clouds, blown up with boisterous breath;
The trees strain from the blast of death
Shrieking convulsed, so fierce the hail is driven
Across the vault of night.
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Of a cherub lightens down
And rends the air with crashing din;
Ah, if it be by God's command
To show light in the darkness of nature's frown
That I my purpose win!
It flashes and still flashes, and now I see
Beyond the blaze glooming a tree, a tree,
Stately and large,—(O light deceive not,
O weary eyes not now believe not!)—
Unseen before; to that I press,
Despite the tempest and limbs' tardiness.
Lighten, O sword divine, to clear my way,
And thou, O happy heart, upstay
Steps that falter and swerve, since few
Remain; come light again, I shall win through.
Angel of Death
My flame he hath not abhorred,
Nor nature's strife,
But lightened through my sword,
Hath passed to Life.
My task is done; and rewarded,
If faithfully;
Henceforth no more is guarded,
The mystic tree.
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LINES ON A YOUNG FRIEND WHO DIED JUST BEFORE TAKING ORDERS
Put
off thy shoes from off thy feet:—
So came a voice to thee (tho' shod
With preparation, to make meet
For God) from God.
So came a voice to thee (tho' shod
With preparation, to make meet
For God) from God.
No vision nor similitude
He showed thee then, but, higher grace,
His Godhead's self, nor veil-endued,
But face to face.
He showed thee then, but, higher grace,
His Godhead's self, nor veil-endued,
But face to face.
Now not by word, O slow of speech,
Shalt thou the ills of life console,
Nor tongue to ear thy gospel preach,
But soul to soul.
Shalt thou the ills of life console,
Nor tongue to ear thy gospel preach,
But soul to soul.
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DURING THE ANTHEM
The windows shake with the wind
Of the organ-peal above;
But angels there enshrined
Keep their still look of love:
The boys below in the choir
Sing plangent notes that drown
My heart in tears of fire,
But leave unvexed their own.
Of the organ-peal above;
But angels there enshrined
Keep their still look of love:
The boys below in the choir
Sing plangent notes that drown
My heart in tears of fire,
But leave unvexed their own.
No steadfast angel I;
No thoughtless innocent,
Through whom God's praise may cry
Nor scorch the way it went;
Child-haven left, my bark
Rides a tumultuous sea,
That far, far port its mark,—
The saints' serenity.
No thoughtless innocent,
Through whom God's praise may cry
Nor scorch the way it went;
Child-haven left, my bark
Rides a tumultuous sea,
That far, far port its mark,—
The saints' serenity.
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AMBITION
Unsummoned they arrive, and pass unchecked,
Tall, fair, and chaplet-decked;
With wreaths of berried myrtle to allure,
Myrtle and bay with glistening dew fresh-varnished;
But some bear gold, and some but lilies pure,
Some roses heavy-petalled, heavy-scented,
Or that sweet bud of May
Which lives its hour and falls contented;
But who not knows, who knows so well as I
That but to touch is loss, their show a lie;—
The flowers are shrivelled, and the gold is tarnished.
Tall, fair, and chaplet-decked;
With wreaths of berried myrtle to allure,
Myrtle and bay with glistening dew fresh-varnished;
But some bear gold, and some but lilies pure,
Some roses heavy-petalled, heavy-scented,
Or that sweet bud of May
Which lives its hour and falls contented;
But who not knows, who knows so well as I
That but to touch is loss, their show a lie;—
The flowers are shrivelled, and the gold is tarnished.
So well as I who knows?
But who so well, O sole, O sovereign rose,
How life itself lives but to touch and take;
For that the blood rejoices, the limbs ache,
The brain ferments, the throat is dry;
It is the world, life, I;
Though fate forbid, it must be mine, must, must!
'Tis mine; a moment, and 'tis summer dust.
But who so well, O sole, O sovereign rose,
How life itself lives but to touch and take;
For that the blood rejoices, the limbs ache,
The brain ferments, the throat is dry;
It is the world, life, I;
Though fate forbid, it must be mine, must, must!
'Tis mine; a moment, and 'tis summer dust.
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O heart of golden fire,
Self-coined in idle pulse of passionate desire,
Wilt thou desire inherit?
Then nurse thy flames till they be white from red,
And let the ore be shed
Into the seething cauldron of thy spirit;
And when the minute strikes, pour; and behold
True steel, more potent than the finest gold.
Self-coined in idle pulse of passionate desire,
Wilt thou desire inherit?
Then nurse thy flames till they be white from red,
And let the ore be shed
Into the seething cauldron of thy spirit;
And when the minute strikes, pour; and behold
True steel, more potent than the finest gold.
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THE PLOUGHED MEADOW
Cowslip and daffodil
Spring here for whoso will
In the merry meadow
Where all the weeds are flowers;
Kine will not eat them,
But all the sunny hours
Merry maidens pleat them,
Till night brings shadow.
Spring here for whoso will
In the merry meadow
Where all the weeds are flowers;
Kine will not eat them,
But all the sunny hours
Merry maidens pleat them,
Till night brings shadow.
Daffodils die away,
Cowslips, from light of day,
When the plows shear it,
And earth's heart is broken;
Blood-poppy takes their place,
Sharp sorrow's token;
Charlock, the land's disgrace,
Assays to cheer it.
Cowslips, from light of day,
When the plows shear it,
And earth's heart is broken;
Blood-poppy takes their place,
Sharp sorrow's token;
Charlock, the land's disgrace,
Assays to cheer it.
Dare we then blame the plow,
'Cause darnel springs up now?
Where lurked the charlock seeds,
When the meads were merry?
What sower planted them?
Say, who would bury
Seeds of them? who wanted them,
Flowers that were only weeds?
'Cause darnel springs up now?
Where lurked the charlock seeds,
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What sower planted them?
Say, who would bury
Seeds of them? who wanted them,
Flowers that were only weeds?
Envoy
O daughter mine, O thou,
Thou art the meadow, now
All thy weeds are flowers.
But soon will dawn the hours
When thy heart must be broken,
When conscience shall shear thee,
And heart's blood be the token.
Then will shew the weeds
Springing apace, apace,
Darnel, the heart's disgrace,
And charlock, in pale pride,
Assaying to cheer thee.
Thou art the meadow, now
All thy weeds are flowers.
But soon will dawn the hours
When thy heart must be broken,
When conscience shall shear thee,
And heart's blood be the token.
Then will shew the weeds
Springing apace, apace,
Darnel, the heart's disgrace,
And charlock, in pale pride,
Assaying to cheer thee.
But let one sow, sow wide
In the furrow, and take heed
The seed is the good seed—
It shall choke charlock and darnel,
For that seed is eternal.
In the furrow, and take heed
The seed is the good seed—
It shall choke charlock and darnel,
For that seed is eternal.
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CAIAPHAS
The signal comes; Azazel's goat is dead.
Dead too our sin, and—the atonement fit
Such as His people may to God All-dread
Present and live,—have paid their lives for it
A bullock and a ram; that, type of sin;
This, symbol of obedient hearts within.
Dead too our sin, and—the atonement fit
Such as His people may to God All-dread
Present and live,—have paid their lives for it
A bullock and a ram; that, type of sin;
This, symbol of obedient hearts within.
And now I wash: O whiter than white snow,
Whiter than these white robes make Thou my hands,
Use Thou as I the hyssop, for I go
Before Thy Face to do Thy dear commands.
I lift the veil, and thro the awful dark
Scatter the blood towards the Holy Ark.
Whiter than these white robes make Thou my hands,
Use Thou as I the hyssop, for I go
Before Thy Face to do Thy dear commands.
I lift the veil, and thro the awful dark
Scatter the blood towards the Holy Ark.
So it is done: For you, O people mine
Thus year by year doth your High-priest atone;
Pouring the innocent blood of goats and kine,
Bending before the mercy-seat alone.
Lo, ye are clean; O bruised, afflicted sore,
God hath forgiven you, go, and sin no more.
Thus year by year doth your High-priest atone;
Pouring the innocent blood of goats and kine,
Bending before the mercy-seat alone.
Lo, ye are clean; O bruised, afflicted sore,
God hath forgiven you, go, and sin no more.
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Ay, put away from you the accursed thing,
Schism and sedition; give to all their dues:
Why make a Christ when Cæsar is your King,
Why kick against the pricks, O foolish Jews?
Surely 'twere well that one mad man should die,
And not the whole people perish utterly.
Schism and sedition; give to all their dues:
Why make a Christ when Cæsar is your King,
Why kick against the pricks, O foolish Jews?
Surely 'twere well that one mad man should die,
And not the whole people perish utterly.
ON A MADONNA AND CHILD OF BELLINI
Years pass and change; mother and child remain:
Mother so proudly sad, so sadly wise,
With perfect face and wonderful calm eyes,
Full of a mute expectancy of pain:
Child of whose love the mother seems so fain,
Looking far off, as if in other skies
He saw the hill of crucifixion rise,
And knew the horror, and would not refrain.
Mother so proudly sad, so sadly wise,
With perfect face and wonderful calm eyes,
Full of a mute expectancy of pain:
Child of whose love the mother seems so fain,
Looking far off, as if in other skies
He saw the hill of crucifixion rise,
And knew the horror, and would not refrain.
Yet all that pain is over in very deed,
And only love shines from those eyes alway;
Love to fulfil the world's enormous need,
Light to illuminate the devious way,
Still brighter as the centuries recede,
And more and more unto the perfect day.
And only love shines from those eyes alway;
Love to fulfil the world's enormous need,
Light to illuminate the devious way,
Still brighter as the centuries recede,
And more and more unto the perfect day.
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UNDER THE CANOPY
Yes, it is good for us that we are here;
Scarlet, and blue, and purple in the sky,
The covering of the holy sanctuary,
By day obscured, at last by night shines clear.
Lo, yonder sinking sun is flaming there
In evening sacrifice to God most high,
And yonder moon is praying quietly,
And her one star holdeth his taper near.
Scarlet, and blue, and purple in the sky,
The covering of the holy sanctuary,
By day obscured, at last by night shines clear.
Lo, yonder sinking sun is flaming there
In evening sacrifice to God most high,
And yonder moon is praying quietly,
And her one star holdeth his taper near.
Yes, good for us, albeit men may say
Could we climb higher past the paths of men,
Vague mists would shew for all that fine linen,
And all that purple and scarlet turn to grey.
It may be, yet for us they keep their hue,
And if thou climb beyond, there is still the blue.
Could we climb higher past the paths of men,
Vague mists would shew for all that fine linen,
And all that purple and scarlet turn to grey.
It may be, yet for us they keep their hue,
And if thou climb beyond, there is still the blue.
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