The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
VI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
VII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
II. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
III. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
III. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
VI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. | VIII. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
IX. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
I. |
II. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | ||
VIII.
But Balder moan'd, ‘O beauteous Earth
Now lying cold and dead,
Bright flash'd the lamps of flowers and stars
Around thy golden head!
Now lying cold and dead,
Bright flash'd the lamps of flowers and stars
Around thy golden head!
‘And beautiful were beast and bird,
And lamb and speckled snake,
And beautiful were human things
Who gladden'd for my sake.
And lamb and speckled snake,
And beautiful were human things
Who gladden'd for my sake.
‘But lo! on one and all of those
Blew the cold blighting breath,
Until I died that they might live
And bought their life with death.
Blew the cold blighting breath,
Until I died that they might live
And bought their life with death.
‘Behold, I live, and all is dark,
And wasted is my pain,
For glimmering at my feet I see
The fatal eyes again.
And wasted is my pain,
For glimmering at my feet I see
The fatal eyes again.
‘Why stays he here upon the Earth?
Why lingers he below?
The empty heavens wait for him,—
'Tis ended—let him go!’
Why lingers he below?
The empty heavens wait for him,—
'Tis ended—let him go!’
Death look'd up with a loving face,
And smiled from the white ground;—
The stars that sat upon their thrones
Seem'd singing with low sound.
And smiled from the white ground;—
The stars that sat upon their thrones
Seem'd singing with low sound.
The white Christ cried, ‘The green Earth lives!
She sleeps, but hath not died!
She and all fair things thou hast named
Shall quicken and abide!
She sleeps, but hath not died!
She and all fair things thou hast named
Shall quicken and abide!
‘O Balder, those great gods to whom
Thy radiant life was given,
Were far too frail to keep their plight
And summon Death to heaven.
Thy radiant life was given,
Were far too frail to keep their plight
And summon Death to heaven.
‘There is no god of all thy kin
Dare name that name aloud:
When his cold hand was on thy heart,
Each crouch'd within his cloud.
Dare name that name aloud:
480
Each crouch'd within his cloud.
‘Thou couldst not buy the boon of those,
They were too weak and poor;
Fain would they buy a boon of thee,
Now thy strange sleep is o'er!
They were too weak and poor;
Fain would they buy a boon of thee,
Now thy strange sleep is o'er!
‘Yet now for evermore fulfilled
Is thine ancestral rune,
For thou indeed hast conquer'd Death
And won thy gentle boon.
Is thine ancestral rune,
For thou indeed hast conquer'd Death
And won thy gentle boon.
‘Yea, thou hast died as fair things die
In earth, and air, and deep,
Yet hast thou risen thrice beautiful
Out of thy solemn sleep.
In earth, and air, and deep,
Yet hast thou risen thrice beautiful
Out of thy solemn sleep.
‘For life thrice seal'd and sanctified
Is on thy lips and eyes;
And whatsoe'er grows fair like thee
By love shall also rise.
Is on thy lips and eyes;
And whatsoe'er grows fair like thee
By love shall also rise.
‘Lo! out of beauty cast away
Another beauty grows:
What Death reaps in the fields of life
In fairer fields he sows.
Another beauty grows:
What Death reaps in the fields of life
In fairer fields he sows.
‘And thro' a thousand gates of gloom,
With tracts of life between,
The creatures that the Father made
Creep on, now hid, now seen;
With tracts of life between,
The creatures that the Father made
Creep on, now hid, now seen;
‘And duly out of every doom
A sweeter issue flows,
As out of dreary dooms of gods
At last thy glory rose!
A sweeter issue flows,
As out of dreary dooms of gods
At last thy glory rose!
‘So fairer yet, and ever fair,
Thy soul divine shall gleam,
A spirit springing from a tomb
And rainbow'd into dream!
Thy soul divine shall gleam,
A spirit springing from a tomb
And rainbow'd into dream!
‘O kiss me, Brother, on the mouth,
Yea, kiss me thrice again;
For when I feel thy kiss, I feel
The sun, and the wind, and the rain!
Yea, kiss me thrice again;
For when I feel thy kiss, I feel
The sun, and the wind, and the rain!
‘The dead Earth wakens 'neath thy feet,
Flame kindles thro' the sod. . . .
O kiss me with thy human lips,
Thou brightest born of God!’
Flame kindles thro' the sod. . . .
O kiss me with thy human lips,
Thou brightest born of God!’
The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | ||