 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
1
May-time on Monte Subasio
This is the Mount of God;
These heights St. Francis trod
In days as fresh as is the springtide grass.
Yea, and he left behind
The footprints of his mind
Whereby who follow peace and joy may pass.
These heights St. Francis trod
In days as fresh as is the springtide grass.
Yea, and he left behind
The footprints of his mind
Whereby who follow peace and joy may pass.
Wherefore when May is come
Men leave their city home
And all their work and all their cares below,
And seek the upper air
To find St. Francis there,
The haunting spirit of Subasio.
Men leave their city home
And all their work and all their cares below,
And seek the upper air
To find St. Francis there,
The haunting spirit of Subasio.
Eight days the snows have fled
From off the mountain's head;
Not yet the herds upon the uplands rove;
Unharmed by goat and sheep
The blesséd flowers may peep
To give us happy welcome as we move.
From off the mountain's head;
Not yet the herds upon the uplands rove;
Unharmed by goat and sheep
The blesséd flowers may peep
To give us happy welcome as we move.
2
Passed is the city gate
Where Rome once held its state;
Farewell brown roofs, old Castle wall and towers;
Up through the sunburnt rocks
Cool for the fresh-leaved box,
We seek St. Francis' world of thought and flowers.
Where Rome once held its state;
Farewell brown roofs, old Castle wall and towers;
Up through the sunburnt rocks
Cool for the fresh-leaved box,
We seek St. Francis' world of thought and flowers.
How fragrant is the May
That blooms beside the way,
How gold the broom, how green each hazel bush;
There is no wing that stirs
The thorn and junipers,
And over all there broods a solemn hush;
That blooms beside the way,
How gold the broom, how green each hazel bush;
There is no wing that stirs
The thorn and junipers,
And over all there broods a solemn hush;
There on their ruddy steep
The dead men lie asleep,
They cannot hear what Tescio sings to-day;
No lark is in the air
As up the silent stair
We climb, unhelped by song, our mountain way.
The dead men lie asleep,
They cannot hear what Tescio sings to-day;
No lark is in the air
As up the silent stair
We climb, unhelped by song, our mountain way.
But where with tufts of flowers
A grassy lawn is ours,
And hazels cease, and cease the junipers,
Sudden sweet song is given,
Larks fill with joy the heaven,
And at our feet the happy cricket chirrs.
A grassy lawn is ours,
And hazels cease, and cease the junipers,
Sudden sweet song is given,
Larks fill with joy the heaven,
And at our feet the happy cricket chirrs.
3
Tired with the stony ways,
How must our feet not praise,
Subasio, these long miles of grass outspread!
How could the heart not own
God gave no nobler down,
Flower-sprinkled thus, for weary feet to tread!
How must our feet not praise,
Subasio, these long miles of grass outspread!
How could the heart not own
God gave no nobler down,
Flower-sprinkled thus, for weary feet to tread!
For here without its peers
The towering orchis rears,
The fritillaria hangs a mottled bell,
Shines the narcissus eye,
With turquoise jewelry
The fair forget-me-not has worked her spell.
The towering orchis rears,
The fritillaria hangs a mottled bell,
Shines the narcissus eye,
With turquoise jewelry
The fair forget-me-not has worked her spell.
With thoughts of home most sweet,
About the traveller's feet
The golden cowslip glitters far and near.
But better still than all
St. Francis seems to call
‘Ye gave me joy, give these poor strangers cheer.’
About the traveller's feet
The golden cowslip glitters far and near.
But better still than all
St. Francis seems to call
‘Ye gave me joy, give these poor strangers cheer.’
Cool as the air of dawn
Across the fragrant lawn
Comes a soft wind from distant worlds of snow.
Here Thrasymene shines,
And there the Sibilines,
And there Abruzzi's hills in splendour glow.
Across the fragrant lawn
Comes a soft wind from distant worlds of snow.
Here Thrasymene shines,
And there the Sibilines,
And there Abruzzi's hills in splendour glow.
4
From distance, lo! we hark
The wolf of Gubbio bark,
And, where Bagnara 'neath Pennino lies,
I see the soldiers move,
Bearing the man they love
Home to his death, in pain, with blinded eyes.
The wolf of Gubbio bark,
And, where Bagnara 'neath Pennino lies,
I see the soldiers move,
Bearing the man they love
Home to his death, in pain, with blinded eyes.
Or there across the plain,
Purple and patched with grain,
Where grey Bevagna rests beneath the hills,
I hear the good man reach
Bird-hearts, with loving speech,
By which men touch the heart of wild birds still.
Purple and patched with grain,
Where grey Bevagna rests beneath the hills,
I hear the good man reach
Bird-hearts, with loving speech,
By which men touch the heart of wild birds still.
Then back my soul takes flight
To this untroubled height
The ‘little poor man’ loved long years ago,
When for his great heart's rest
He climbed the grassy crest
That looks on Carceri folded far below.
To this untroubled height
The ‘little poor man’ loved long years ago,
When for his great heart's rest
He climbed the grassy crest
That looks on Carceri folded far below.
With what enchantment strange
The mountains, range on range,
Move through the hours in multi-coloured pride;
Now grey with russet hue
Now silver-white and blue,
They boldly show or swift their beauty hide.
The mountains, range on range,
Move through the hours in multi-coloured pride;
Now grey with russet hue
Now silver-white and blue,
They boldly show or swift their beauty hide.
5
Now far away they gleam,
Then, near to touching seem,
While over all in bluest depths of air
White cloudlets fleck the dome
Like choirs of angels come
With pure desire to look on scenes so fair.
Then, near to touching seem,
While over all in bluest depths of air
White cloudlets fleck the dome
Like choirs of angels come
With pure desire to look on scenes so fair.
Here, on this hill of rest
With song and wild flower blest
One presence haunts the ever-changing day,
Changeless in heart and mind,
The lover of his kind,
Still Francis comes to greet us on our way.
With song and wild flower blest
One presence haunts the ever-changing day,
Changeless in heart and mind,
The lover of his kind,
Still Francis comes to greet us on our way.
He points us to the town
Wherein to him was shown
Vision of palace, arms, and beauteous bride;
Then tells us of the fight
Won by a nobler knight
Than rode to old Spoleto in his pride.
Wherein to him was shown
Vision of palace, arms, and beauteous bride;
Then tells us of the fight
Won by a nobler knight
Than rode to old Spoleto in his pride.
He lets us gaze our fill,
Then leads us from the hill
To where the Carceri gave him sure retreat,
Shows where in ilex wood
The angels brought him food
And bids us be partaker of his meat.
Then leads us from the hill
To where the Carceri gave him sure retreat,
Shows where in ilex wood
The angels brought him food
And bids us be partaker of his meat.
6
‘Come ye, yourselves apart,’
He whispers to each heart,
‘And learn how little needs our earthly life,
Then forth like strong men go
From your Subasio
Of loftiest thought—peace-makers in all strife.’
He whispers to each heart,
‘And learn how little needs our earthly life,
Then forth like strong men go
From your Subasio
Of loftiest thought—peace-makers in all strife.’
| Poems at Home and Abroad | |