 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
IV. Death sings.
‘I know not whence my feet have come,
Nor whither they must go—
Lonely I wander, dark and dumb,
In summer and in snow.
Nor whither they must go—
Lonely I wander, dark and dumb,
In summer and in snow.
‘For on mine eyes there falls a gleam,
That keeps them dim and blind,
Of strange eternities of dream
Before me and behind;
That keeps them dim and blind,
Of strange eternities of dream
Before me and behind;
And ever, ever as I pace
Along my lonely track,
The light retires before my face,
Advancing at my back;
Along my lonely track,
The light retires before my face,
Advancing at my back;
‘But ever, ever if I turn
And would my steps retrace,
Close to my back that light doth burn,
But flies before my face.
And would my steps retrace,
Close to my back that light doth burn,
But flies before my face.
‘I close mine eyes, I fain would sleep,
I rest with folded wing,
Or on my weary way I creep
Like any harmless thing.
I rest with folded wing,
Or on my weary way I creep
Like any harmless thing.
‘Yet day by day, from land to land,
From gentle fold to fold,
I pass, and lo, my cruel hand
Leaves all things calm and cold.
From gentle fold to fold,
I pass, and lo, my cruel hand
Leaves all things calm and cold.
‘Man marketh with his bitterest moan
My shadow sad and dim;
Of all things hateful, I alone
Am hatefullest to him!
My shadow sad and dim;
Of all things hateful, I alone
Am hatefullest to him!
‘Ay me, a brand is on my brow,
A fire is in my breast,—
Ever my bitter breath doth bow
Those flowers I love the best.
A fire is in my breast,—
469
Those flowers I love the best.
‘I crouch beside the cradled child,
I look into its eyes,
I love to watch its slumber mild
As quietly it lies.
I look into its eyes,
I love to watch its slumber mild
As quietly it lies.
‘I dare not touch it with my hand,
Or creep too close to see,
Yet for a little space I stand
And mark it, silently,
Or creep too close to see,
Yet for a little space I stand
And mark it, silently,
‘Ah, little dream pale human things,
At rest beneath the skies,
How, as they sleep, with gentle wings
I shade their cheeks and eyes!
At rest beneath the skies,
How, as they sleep, with gentle wings
I shade their cheeks and eyes!
‘The maiden with her merry laugh,
The babe with its faint cry,
The old man leaning on his staff,
Are mine, and these must die.
The babe with its faint cry,
The old man leaning on his staff,
Are mine, and these must die.
‘I touch them softly with my hand,
They turn as still as stone,
Then looking in their eyes I stand
Until their light hath flown.
They turn as still as stone,
Then looking in their eyes I stand
Until their light hath flown.
‘I set faint gleams around their lips,
I smooth their brows and hair,
I place within their clay-cold grips
The lilies of despair.
I smooth their brows and hair,
I place within their clay-cold grips
The lilies of despair.
‘And verily when they bear them forth
I follow with the rest;
But when their bones are in the earth
My gentle task is best.
I follow with the rest;
But when their bones are in the earth
My gentle task is best.
‘For there I sit with head bent low
For many a dreamy day,
And watch the grass and flowers grow
Out of the changing clay.
For many a dreamy day,
And watch the grass and flowers grow
Out of the changing clay.
‘O think of this and blame not me,
Thou with the eyes divine—
A Shadow creeps from sea to sea,
Stranger than thine or mine.
Thou with the eyes divine—
A Shadow creeps from sea to sea,
Stranger than thine or mine.
‘Who made the white bear and the seal?
The eagle and the lamb?
As these am I—I live and feel—
One made me, and I am.’
The eagle and the lamb?
As these am I—I live and feel—
One made me, and I am.’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |