 | The Crucifixion of Man |  |
I. PART I. IN SUSSEX.
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I. A MAN'S LETTER.
I'm cheerier now. Your letter came
(It helped me much) a week ago.
I never answered it, more shame;
I still was brooding on the blow,
(It helped me much) a week ago.
I never answered it, more shame;
I still was brooding on the blow,
That bitter blow a woman dealt:
I still was smarting from the pain.
You saw me, witnessed what I felt,
Yet dared to bid me, “Hope again!”
I still was smarting from the pain.
You saw me, witnessed what I felt,
Yet dared to bid me, “Hope again!”
You dared to tell me, “Life is fair:
In time you will forget your dream;
Feel sweetness in the summer air,
Hear music in the mountain stream.”
In time you will forget your dream;
Feel sweetness in the summer air,
Hear music in the mountain stream.”
You told me, when we met in town,
To fight on, to be strong and brave;
That, if one foolish woman frown,
Another woman's smile can save.
To fight on, to be strong and brave;
That, if one foolish woman frown,
Another woman's smile can save.
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“Time can extract the sharpest sting.
One woman has wrought you a deadly wrong?
Will never nobler songster sing
Now fate hath hushed one linnet's song?
One woman has wrought you a deadly wrong?
Will never nobler songster sing
Now fate hath hushed one linnet's song?
“She was a lovely woman—true;
I grant you all you would contend;
Hair of the most bewitching hue,
Eyes of seductive brown, my friend!
I grant you all you would contend;
Hair of the most bewitching hue,
Eyes of seductive brown, my friend!
“And yet I'll wager in a year,
Such are the changeful ways of man,
You'll look back, never shed a tear,
Nay, wonder how your love began:
Such are the changeful ways of man,
You'll look back, never shed a tear,
Nay, wonder how your love began:
“Wonder you ever cared for her,
Found witchery in her laughing gaze.
Some other woman you'll prefer;
Each woman has her charming ways.
Found witchery in her laughing gaze.
Some other woman you'll prefer;
Each woman has her charming ways.
“Because one gorgeous day in June
Seems perfect, aye beyond our dream,
Will there be no more splendours soon
When the August burning sun-rays gleam?
Seems perfect, aye beyond our dream,
Will there be no more splendours soon
When the August burning sun-rays gleam?
“Because upon one royal day
In summer every hour seems fair
Must human spirits put away
Faith in new summers, and despair?
In summer every hour seems fair
Must human spirits put away
Faith in new summers, and despair?
“Or when the sun with fervour flames,
Flashing athwart heaven's cloudy bars,
Must high hope perish? Hope proclaims
Beyond the sun the countless stars.
Flashing athwart heaven's cloudy bars,
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Beyond the sun the countless stars.
“And so with women. Still they rise,
Soft, blossom-like, for ever new.
Brown were thy lady's faithless eyes?
Love waits thee, friend, in eyes of blue.
Soft, blossom-like, for ever new.
Brown were thy lady's faithless eyes?
Love waits thee, friend, in eyes of blue.
“Much faith in God I never had,
Yet he has done this one thing well:
He made the whole earth's future glad
When Eve his first-born daughter fell.
Yet he has done this one thing well:
He made the whole earth's future glad
When Eve his first-born daughter fell.
“For now it is so easy—yes,
Too easy indeed—for man to win
The first long lingering lip-caress;
And all things follow from that sin.
Too easy indeed—for man to win
The first long lingering lip-caress;
And all things follow from that sin.
“From the first contact of the lips
All things must follow in order due:
The fluttering flag of virtue dips,
And soon the fair ship yields to you.
All things must follow in order due:
The fluttering flag of virtue dips,
And soon the fair ship yields to you.
“The morning kiss leads on to those
Whose rapture is intenser far;
Spring's crocus is not quite the rose,
Nor is your lamp the evening star.
Whose rapture is intenser far;
Spring's crocus is not quite the rose,
Nor is your lamp the evening star.
“The morning kiss leads to the night's,
When virtue with her own white hand
Draws down the blind, puts out the lights,
And is a slave at your command.”
When virtue with her own white hand
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And is a slave at your command.”
Ah! so you said, my cynic friend,
In London, when I told my tale,
My passionate hope that life would end
Since love had proved of no avail:
In London, when I told my tale,
My passionate hope that life would end
Since love had proved of no avail:
And here among the country lanes
I feel there's truth in what you say;
In losing love and hope one gains,
For conscience passes quite away.
I feel there's truth in what you say;
In losing love and hope one gains,
For conscience passes quite away.
Love is not left, but life is left
—What vengeance may not life contain!
Vengeance on heaven which wrought the theft
Of love, and wrought the hopeless pain.
—What vengeance may not life contain!
Vengeance on heaven which wrought the theft
Of love, and wrought the hopeless pain.
For vengeance is the only thing
Now left worth living for, it seems.
Nought else is left in life; no spring,
No sun, no summer of lovely dreams:
Now left worth living for, it seems.
Nought else is left in life; no spring,
No sun, no summer of lovely dreams:
No days of hope, no hours of glee,
No golden sunshine on the hills,
No silver moonlight on the sea,
No soft low music in the rills:
No golden sunshine on the hills,
No silver moonlight on the sea,
No soft low music in the rills:
No faith in woman, nought in God:—
I toiled for both, I served them well,
And therefore have my footsteps trod
The endless avenues of hell.
I toiled for both, I served them well,
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The endless avenues of hell.
The more I toiled, the less I win.
The men who do not love nor pray
Win woman. She exults in sin,
And flings herself for nought away.
The men who do not love nor pray
Win woman. She exults in sin,
And flings herself for nought away.
Let one man bring a ruby brooch,
The other a life of worship true,
She'll eye the last with mute reproach,
Say to the first, “I worship you!”
The other a life of worship true,
She'll eye the last with mute reproach,
Say to the first, “I worship you!”
One loves her soul, the other loves
Her body, and the last succeeds.
One buys her bonnets, trinkets, gloves;
The other brings her noble deeds.
Her body, and the last succeeds.
One buys her bonnets, trinkets, gloves;
The other brings her noble deeds.
And noble deeds mean nothing much
To woman. She loves better far
What she can see or taste or touch;
Prefers a rushlight to a star.
To woman. She loves better far
What she can see or taste or touch;
Prefers a rushlight to a star.
“What is my soul?” the woman says.
She knows that she has eyes and hair;
A tongue that flatters—and betrays;
Lips that can fondle—and ensnare:
She knows that she has eyes and hair;
A tongue that flatters—and betrays;
Lips that can fondle—and ensnare:
But nought beyond has weight or worth
With woman,—heaven's a dreary space!
She better loves the dear old earth,
Her proper pleasant dwelling-place.
With woman,—heaven's a dreary space!
She better loves the dear old earth,
Her proper pleasant dwelling-place.
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Heaven has its charms, but not for her;
Its summits loom too cold and dread.
She has the fancy to prefer
A fire, a lover,—and a bed.
Its summits loom too cold and dread.
She has the fancy to prefer
A fire, a lover,—and a bed.
The bed must have silk curtains too;
The night-dress must be frilled and laced:
Chaste beauty mocks adornment—true—
But then one is not always chaste.
The night-dress must be frilled and laced:
Chaste beauty mocks adornment—true—
But then one is not always chaste.
Eve soon set right God's faulty thought
And wove her leafy flounce and frill:
But if the garment had been bought,
It would have pleased her better still!
And wove her leafy flounce and frill:
But if the garment had been bought,
It would have pleased her better still!
If Jesus empty-handed came,
And Judas brought a diamond ring,
Would woman hesitate? She'd claim
Knave Judas, crucify her king.
And Judas brought a diamond ring,
Would woman hesitate? She'd claim
Knave Judas, crucify her king.
You know my story.—I was wrong
In struggling hard, in aiming high.
'Tis better to be weak than strong:
All talk of God's love is a lie.
In struggling hard, in aiming high.
'Tis better to be weak than strong:
All talk of God's love is a lie.
The weak base selfish loveless hound
Wins woman—this is God's wise plan;
To let the lying cur be crowned,
And to discrown the nobler man.
Wins woman—this is God's wise plan;
To let the lying cur be crowned,
And to discrown the nobler man.
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And now what vengeance? Not on those
Who have wronged me (they are wronged as well):
No, as my scheme of vengeance grows,
Its blade selects the Lord of hell.
Who have wronged me (they are wronged as well):
No, as my scheme of vengeance grows,
Its blade selects the Lord of hell.
For earth is hell; aye, evermore
The earth which holds those lovers twain
For me must with its every door
Open on hell and hellish pain.
The earth which holds those lovers twain
For me must with its every door
Open on hell and hellish pain.
All things, all persons, fade away;
Stars are but ghosts, a shade the sun:
I see two faces night and day,
Two forms, two only,—and these are one.
Stars are but ghosts, a shade the sun:
I see two faces night and day,
Two forms, two only,—and these are one.
For she is one with him. In this
The essence of the horror lies.
Their souls are blended when they kiss:
Their spirits mingle through the eyes.
The essence of the horror lies.
Their souls are blended when they kiss:
Their spirits mingle through the eyes.
They are not two: for ever now
By day, by night, when her I see,—
The black hair curling o'er the brow,
The brown eyes (full of purity!),
By day, by night, when her I see,—
The black hair curling o'er the brow,
The brown eyes (full of purity!),
The forehead noble, grave and high,
The dainty throat that I have kissed,
Lips where the whole world's roses lie,
The blue veins on the slender wrist,—
The dainty throat that I have kissed,
Lips where the whole world's roses lie,
The blue veins on the slender wrist,—
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When these I see, I see besides
Close, closer than all speech can tell,
A man whose mocking smile derides,
And the world darkens into hell.
Close, closer than all speech can tell,
A man whose mocking smile derides,
And the world darkens into hell.
And who is Lord of hell, on whom
The noblest vengeance can be wrought?
The Lord of pain, of death, the tomb—
Of agony that baffles thought:
The noblest vengeance can be wrought?
The Lord of pain, of death, the tomb—
Of agony that baffles thought:
Who is the Author of these things?
Of every pang beneath the sky?
Lord of our mortal life that brings
With it pain's immortality:
Of every pang beneath the sky?
Lord of our mortal life that brings
With it pain's immortality:
The Power on whom man's vengeance strong
And stern and deadly can alight;
Vengeance for unimagined wrong,
For sin enthroned, and throneless right:
And stern and deadly can alight;
Vengeance for unimagined wrong,
For sin enthroned, and throneless right:
Vengeance for wrongs so grim, so deep,
They never can be purged away:
When from the sheath man's sword shall leap,
Whom shall its keen point pierce and slay?
They never can be purged away:
When from the sheath man's sword shall leap,
Whom shall its keen point pierce and slay?
Against whom shall man's kingly power
Of grief and anger and hate arise?
Whom shall man judge in this last hour
Of heavenly sophistries and lies?
Of grief and anger and hate arise?
Whom shall man judge in this last hour
Of heavenly sophistries and lies?
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God, surely: he who made the sun,
The stars, the love that gives man light,
Then, just as love's own heaven was won,
Swept all that heaven with tides of night.
The stars, the love that gives man light,
Then, just as love's own heaven was won,
Swept all that heaven with tides of night.
Enough of words—the action shows
The manhood, not the flashing speech.
Moreover clear before me grows
The avenging end that I must reach.
The manhood, not the flashing speech.
Moreover clear before me grows
The avenging end that I must reach.
There's such a lovely girl down here,—
The teacher at the village school.
(I shall not fall in love—don't fear!
Once is enough to play the fool.)
The teacher at the village school.
(I shall not fall in love—don't fear!
Once is enough to play the fool.)
Charming! if you were in the place,
It strikes me you and I should fight.
Charming? divine's the word! such grace—
Eyes stealing all the stars' wild light;
It strikes me you and I should fight.
Charming? divine's the word! such grace—
Eyes stealing all the stars' wild light;
Hair full of night's soft darkness, lips
Untasted yet by lips of man;
Hands lovely to the finger-tips;
Complete the picture—if you can.
Untasted yet by lips of man;
Hands lovely to the finger-tips;
Complete the picture—if you can.
One day the picture shall be mine
In all its loveliness complete:
I'll study it then, pure line by line;
Own it, from forehead to the feet.
In all its loveliness complete:
I'll study it then, pure line by line;
Own it, from forehead to the feet.
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—I carry home her books at night:
We saunter through the country lanes:
She sometimes questions, “Is this right?”
I answer, “If my goodness gains.”
We saunter through the country lanes:
She sometimes questions, “Is this right?”
I answer, “If my goodness gains.”
For that old answer ever serves
To lay the doubt in woman's soul.
They love to help a man who swerves
Aside, and rein him to the goal.
To lay the doubt in woman's soul.
They love to help a man who swerves
Aside, and rein him to the goal.
Run straight—the thing's prosaic quite.
A good girl better loves to win
A soul from darkness to the light:
Her virtue shines against his sin.
A good girl better loves to win
A soul from darkness to the light:
Her virtue shines against his sin.
So now this dainty teacher thinks
That what I need she can supply.
This card I flourish, when she shrinks
From wanderings 'neath the starry sky.
That what I need she can supply.
This card I flourish, when she shrinks
From wanderings 'neath the starry sky.
“I'm gaining so”—so I proclaim—
“In goodness, virtue, manhood, truth:
Indeed it were a sin, a shame,
Now to cut short your work of ruth.
“In goodness, virtue, manhood, truth:
Indeed it were a sin, a shame,
Now to cut short your work of ruth.
“Your pitying task continue then,
Dear Annie”—that's the name she bears:
“Make me a model among men;
From my cornfield snatch out the tares.
Dear Annie”—that's the name she bears:
“Make me a model among men;
From my cornfield snatch out the tares.
“If once a woman stooped to take
My weary worn-out life in hand,
Who knows? I might in the ending make
The staunchest lover in the land.”
My weary worn-out life in hand,
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The staunchest lover in the land.”
That's quite enough! We get our stroll:
There are no more objections raised.
She talks of moonlight and the soul
(Sometimes until I feel half dazed!)
There are no more objections raised.
She talks of moonlight and the soul
(Sometimes until I feel half dazed!)
She has read a very marvellous book—
Sympneumata, or some such name—
And this she quotes by hook or crook,
Now aptly, now without an aim.
Sympneumata, or some such name—
And this she quotes by hook or crook,
Now aptly, now without an aim.
A wondrous book—so I should deem.
It solves all doubts beneath the sky:
There's one especial tender dream
Of lovers' perfect unity.
It solves all doubts beneath the sky:
There's one especial tender dream
Of lovers' perfect unity.
“Dual” no more, “biune's” the word!
No more the weary lover seeks
(The strangest dream I ever heard:
Savours of Plato, and the Greeks).
No more the weary lover seeks
(The strangest dream I ever heard:
Savours of Plato, and the Greeks).
This “sympneumatic” union serves
Unending sweetness to provide:
Gives soul-joy, while it thrills the nerves
—A husband, while it brings a bride.
Unending sweetness to provide:
Gives soul-joy, while it thrills the nerves
—A husband, while it brings a bride.
For in far old-world realms that lay
Beyond our trivial moon and sun,
Closed to the starlight of to-day,
The woman and the man were one.
Beyond our trivial moon and sun,
Closed to the starlight of to-day,
The woman and the man were one.
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But Satan foiled God's primal plan:
The “biune” form was rent in twain;
The woman torn from out the man
Shivering, and with a ghastly pain.
The “biune” form was rent in twain;
The woman torn from out the man
Shivering, and with a ghastly pain.
She, once divided, wandered far,
Helpless without the enclosing form,
The man's strong shape that used to bar
The assaults of hostile spear or storm.
Helpless without the enclosing form,
The man's strong shape that used to bar
The assaults of hostile spear or storm.
He, once divided, wandered too,
Unable now, from her apart,
To mingle as he used to do
His with the eternal Spirit's heart.
Unable now, from her apart,
To mingle as he used to do
His with the eternal Spirit's heart.
For God inspires the soul of man,
So runs the “sympneumatic” dream,
Through woman: thus, when life began,
Flowed forth God's inspiration-stream.
So runs the “sympneumatic” dream,
Through woman: thus, when life began,
Flowed forth God's inspiration-stream.
But now the hapless halves are twain;
They seek each other through the years.
Man strives his long-lost bride to gain:
She strives and seeks, with lonely tears.
They seek each other through the years.
Man strives his long-lost bride to gain:
She strives and seeks, with lonely tears.
And, when the long strange search is done,
The world's redemption is at hand.
At last love's victory will be won
And all will be as God first planned.
The world's redemption is at hand.
At last love's victory will be won
And all will be as God first planned.
The severed halves again unite:
The perfect human being is there,
Married with infinite delight;
And thus will end the world's despair.
The perfect human being is there,
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And thus will end the world's despair.
... —So runs the dream, and so I hear
In nightly lectures from my love.
Her words fall gently on my ear,
Dark trees around, bright stars above.
In nightly lectures from my love.
Her words fall gently on my ear,
Dark trees around, bright stars above.
I listen, and I vow that all
Beyond all doubt is plain and true:
And yet such daring dreams appal
My spirit, between me and you.
Beyond all doubt is plain and true:
And yet such daring dreams appal
My spirit, between me and you.
One human being! none to seek—
No passionate huntsmanship to show—
Romance would perish in a week,
And with it all life's worth would go.
No passionate huntsmanship to show—
Romance would perish in a week,
And with it all life's worth would go.
Or, if the loved one be a ghost,
A spirit of the sunlit air,
One of the spotless heavenly host,
Shall I seek my “sympneuma” there?
A spirit of the sunlit air,
One of the spotless heavenly host,
Shall I seek my “sympneuma” there?
Never! I hold for love and Art
Woman's the fittest after all.
No angel ever won man's heart:
Man's heart was won by woman's fall.
Woman's the fittest after all.
No angel ever won man's heart:
Man's heart was won by woman's fall.
That's my opinion. Annie thinks
Quite otherwise—but we shall see.
I fashion all the strongest links
Of love's chain, while she talks to me.
Quite otherwise—but we shall see.
I fashion all the strongest links
Of love's chain, while she talks to me.
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I listen: while I listen, slips
The chain around her, coil on coil.
One day the sweetness of her lips
Shall compensate for all my toil.
The chain around her, coil on coil.
One day the sweetness of her lips
Shall compensate for all my toil.
My letter's close—for I must go,
I have to meet her at the school,
And you may trust me quite, you know,
To keep both head and heart quite cool.
I have to meet her at the school,
And you may trust me quite, you know,
To keep both head and heart quite cool.
Good-bye, and if you're in the mood
Write, urge your light creed's easy claims—
(Think of us sitting in the wood,
So happy!)
Yours most truly,
James.
Write, urge your light creed's easy claims—
(Think of us sitting in the wood,
So happy!)
Yours most truly,
James.
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II. A YOUNG GIRL'S DREAM.
Fair the world is, though the breezes of September
O'er the moors and through the forest-alleys pass:
Though the light of burning August we remember
Is a light for ever lost to us, alas!
Though the glory of the branches and the flowers
Has for ever with the summer passed away,
Love is living yet within the forest-bowers
And his heart is still as tender as in May.
O'er the moors and through the forest-alleys pass:
Though the light of burning August we remember
Is a light for ever lost to us, alas!
Though the glory of the branches and the flowers
Has for ever with the summer passed away,
Love is living yet within the forest-bowers
And his heart is still as tender as in May.
Was the spring-time half as sweet to me, I wonder,
When the pearly snowdrops peeped above the mould,
When the green buds burst their wintry sheaths asunder
And the crocus dared to don its crown of gold—
When the sunlight flashed across the river-billows
As the wild wind lashed them into stormy glee,
And the branches dipping in them of the willows
Deemed they dipped their grey-green leafage in the sea?
When the pearly snowdrops peeped above the mould,
When the green buds burst their wintry sheaths asunder
And the crocus dared to don its crown of gold—
When the sunlight flashed across the river-billows
As the wild wind lashed them into stormy glee,
And the branches dipping in them of the willows
Deemed they dipped their grey-green leafage in the sea?
Was the summer half as fair with all its gleaming
Of the crimson fuchsias near our cottage gate?
Summer—when the stars of midnight watched me dreaming
At the window, when I left it whispered “Wait!”
Summer—when the rose with passion seemed to languish
And the lily sighed her love-tale to the rose;
When the world's heart scorned the very thought of anguish
And its spirit was a spirit at repose.
Of the crimson fuchsias near our cottage gate?
Summer—when the stars of midnight watched me dreaming
At the window, when I left it whispered “Wait!”
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And the lily sighed her love-tale to the rose;
When the world's heart scorned the very thought of anguish
And its spirit was a spirit at repose.
Summer—when I wondered, wondered, looking forward,
Who would love me, strove to picture and divine;
Started at a fancied footstep, gazing doorward,—
Sat in fancy, often, with his hand in mine:
Summer—when my heart knew little as I wandered
Counting blossoms, watching butterfly and bee,
Knew so little of the love-lore that it pondered,
Knew so little, O my lover-soul, of thee!
Who would love me, strove to picture and divine;
Started at a fancied footstep, gazing doorward,—
Sat in fancy, often, with his hand in mine:
Summer—when my heart knew little as I wandered
Counting blossoms, watching butterfly and bee,
Knew so little of the love-lore that it pondered,
Knew so little, O my lover-soul, of thee!
Was the summer half as lovely as the season
That brings perfect love and passion to my heart?
Let the blossoms madden at September's treason!
Pangless, I can watch their glowing tints depart.
For my heart and all its thoughts are given over
To my darling, and there's summer in his gaze:
Let the lily go in mourning for her lover!
All my heart is full of dreams of summer days.
That brings perfect love and passion to my heart?
Let the blossoms madden at September's treason!
Pangless, I can watch their glowing tints depart.
For my heart and all its thoughts are given over
To my darling, and there's summer in his gaze:
Let the lily go in mourning for her lover!
All my heart is full of dreams of summer days.
All my heart is full of dreams of love and heaven;
God is good to me, aye good to me indeed:
Love for teacher and for prophet he has given,
Love for sermon and for bible and for creed.
I was lonely in the wild world, I remember,
Lonely through the leafy balmy days of June;
I am happy and companioned in September;
Envious, doubtless, is the silver lonely moon.
God is good to me, aye good to me indeed:
Love for teacher and for prophet he has given,
Love for sermon and for bible and for creed.
I was lonely in the wild world, I remember,
Lonely through the leafy balmy days of June;
I am happy and companioned in September;
Envious, doubtless, is the silver lonely moon.
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Envious doubtless are the sea-birds on the ocean:
On the tossing waters where have they to rest?
Round them stretch the waves in ceaseless angry motion,
Where is any nook for haven or for rest?
Envious, doubtless, are the stars i' the airy spaces;
Leagues they are from any loving star apart;
Lonely sail they, leagues from love in starry faces,
But my darling has his dwelling in my heart.
On the tossing waters where have they to rest?
Round them stretch the waves in ceaseless angry motion,
Where is any nook for haven or for rest?
Envious, doubtless, are the stars i' the airy spaces;
Leagues they are from any loving star apart;
Lonely sail they, leagues from love in starry faces,
But my darling has his dwelling in my heart.
He will raise me, he will lift me by his passion
Towards a region wholly pure and wholly fair:
We shall love with angels' love in holiest fashion,
Yet find sweetness in the old earth's summer air.
We will visit all the old earth's sacred places
And in every land be happy and at home,
Knit in union closer for the stranger faces;
Dream in Paris, pass our honeymoon in Rome.
Towards a region wholly pure and wholly fair:
We shall love with angels' love in holiest fashion,
Yet find sweetness in the old earth's summer air.
We will visit all the old earth's sacred places
And in every land be happy and at home,
Knit in union closer for the stranger faces;
Dream in Paris, pass our honeymoon in Rome.
We will wander hand in hand, with love and slowly,
Through the cornfields and the towns of Palestine;
Fancy that we see the eyes of Jesus holy,
Dream we hear the voice most tender and divine.
We, the children of the dark-blue Northern ocean,
Born in mist-land, loved and nurtured by the sea,
In the sunny East will gaze with deep emotion
On sunstricken leafless drear Gethsemane.
Through the cornfields and the towns of Palestine;
Fancy that we see the eyes of Jesus holy,
Dream we hear the voice most tender and divine.
We, the children of the dark-blue Northern ocean,
Born in mist-land, loved and nurtured by the sea,
In the sunny East will gaze with deep emotion
On sunstricken leafless drear Gethsemane.
All our life will be the better for the glory
That once shone through Jesus' figure and his face;
Better shall we understand the sweet old story
When we see with tearful eyes the very place,
As we say, “Beneath this heaven of cloudless weather
Wandered Jesus, here he prayed and here he spoke”—
We shall wander through the vineyards, we together,
Where his loving heart grew weary, where it broke.
That once shone through Jesus' figure and his face;
Better shall we understand the sweet old story
When we see with tearful eyes the very place,
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Wandered Jesus, here he prayed and here he spoke”—
We shall wander through the vineyards, we together,
Where his loving heart grew weary, where it broke.
Though the beauty and the glamour have departed,
Doubtless, from the fields and hills that Jesus saw,
Yet we'll gaze with love upon them, tender-hearted,
And with something still within the soul of awe:
For the paths that God as perfect man hath taken
Must for ever gleam with wonder, where he trod
Still the human heart with love and faith unshaken
Will behold the man,—beholding him, the God.
Doubtless, from the fields and hills that Jesus saw,
Yet we'll gaze with love upon them, tender-hearted,
And with something still within the soul of awe:
For the paths that God as perfect man hath taken
Must for ever gleam with wonder, where he trod
Still the human heart with love and faith unshaken
Will behold the man,—beholding him, the God.
We will trace in fancy spots he may have cherished,
Say, “This corner of a vineyard he held dear:”
See in fancy the lone hill-side where he perished
And the rock-tomb whence his risen voice rang clear.
“Here,” we say, “the loving sad disciples wept him;
Here they laid his silent body to repose,
Deeming that the eternal darkness would have kept him
Sleeping ever; here they marvelled, when he rose.”
Say, “This corner of a vineyard he held dear:”
See in fancy the lone hill-side where he perished
And the rock-tomb whence his risen voice rang clear.
“Here,” we say, “the loving sad disciples wept him;
Here they laid his silent body to repose,
Deeming that the eternal darkness would have kept him
Sleeping ever; here they marvelled, when he rose.”
Here our cottage has been home to me, and pleasure,
Priceless happiness of girlhood, I have known:
To my mother been her darling, her one treasure,
Made my father's life less weary, less alone.
—Now my life at last will leave the lowly places,
Break to noble freedom, burst its prison bars;
But for ever I shall love the dear lost faces,
Love them as the golden morning loves the stars!
Priceless happiness of girlhood, I have known:
To my mother been her darling, her one treasure,
Made my father's life less weary, less alone.
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Break to noble freedom, burst its prison bars;
But for ever I shall love the dear lost faces,
Love them as the golden morning loves the stars!
I will tell my husband many a simple story;
He will listen, for he loves me, to my tale:
Tell him of our dear old garden's summer glory,
From my girlish dreaming draw aside the veil—
Tell him how I wandered through the hazel cover
Dreaming of him, dreaming of him by the lake;
How I longed to be of service to my lover,
How I yearned to give my life-blood for his sake.
He will listen, for he loves me, to my tale:
Tell him of our dear old garden's summer glory,
From my girlish dreaming draw aside the veil—
Tell him how I wandered through the hazel cover
Dreaming of him, dreaming of him by the lake;
How I longed to be of service to my lover,
How I yearned to give my life-blood for his sake.
Foolish dreams, it may be,—weak and very girlish;
Yet they have their beauty and value, let them be!
The vast ocean is not angry, is not churlish:
Let the river sing its ditty to the sea!
Let the river tell its quiet tales and simple
Of the blossoms growing in the inland nooks,
Though the sea receive with hardly a surface-dimple
All the life-throbs of a thousand eager brooks.
Yet they have their beauty and value, let them be!
The vast ocean is not angry, is not churlish:
Let the river sing its ditty to the sea!
Let the river tell its quiet tales and simple
Of the blossoms growing in the inland nooks,
Though the sea receive with hardly a surface-dimple
All the life-throbs of a thousand eager brooks.
All my thoughts and dreams are his and he will treasure
Touch them tenderly, transfigure one by one
All my girlish hopes and every girlish pleasure,
As the shadowy vales are lighted by the sun.
All my friends are his—he'll make me love them better,
Never rob me of the true heart of a friend;
Make me faithful to each promise to the letter,
Make me cling to father and mother to the end.
Touch them tenderly, transfigure one by one
All my girlish hopes and every girlish pleasure,
As the shadowy vales are lighted by the sun.
All my friends are his—he'll make me love them better,
Never rob me of the true heart of a friend;
Make me faithful to each promise to the letter,
Make me cling to father and mother to the end.
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All the children shall be happy at our wedding!
(They will miss their girlish teacher's loving rule)—
While another path and happier I am treading,
They will tread the worn old pathway to the school;
To the same old school with honeysuckle clinging
Round the doorway and festooning from the eaves—
I shall often hear the hymn that they are singing,
Hear their fingers rustle through their lesson-leaves.
(They will miss their girlish teacher's loving rule)—
While another path and happier I am treading,
They will tread the worn old pathway to the school;
To the same old school with honeysuckle clinging
Round the doorway and festooning from the eaves—
I shall often hear the hymn that they are singing,
Hear their fingers rustle through their lesson-leaves.
I shall see them trotting underneath the larches,
See them in their scarlet tippets and their hoods,
See them enter 'neath the school-house' grey-stone arches,
Hear their laughter in the playground of the woods:
Hear some tiny child's glad cry of sudden pleasure
When he spies the first blue egg within the nest,
Gathers up with careful hands his turquoise-treasure,
Shows it, full of lordly triumph, to the rest.
See them in their scarlet tippets and their hoods,
See them enter 'neath the school-house' grey-stone arches,
Hear their laughter in the playground of the woods:
Hear some tiny child's glad cry of sudden pleasure
When he spies the first blue egg within the nest,
Gathers up with careful hands his turquoise-treasure,
Shows it, full of lordly triumph, to the rest.
I shall see the first rich golden daffodilly
Don its gorgeous glittering raiment on the bank,
Mark the snow-white wedding-garment of the lily,
Stand again upon our brook-bridge—just a plank—
Marking, as the gentle West wind lightly winnows
The dark leafage of the rustling alder-tree,
Half a hundred darting gleaming saucy minnows
Make believe that they are salmon in the sea!
Don its gorgeous glittering raiment on the bank,
Mark the snow-white wedding-garment of the lily,
Stand again upon our brook-bridge—just a plank—
Marking, as the gentle West wind lightly winnows
The dark leafage of the rustling alder-tree,
Half a hundred darting gleaming saucy minnows
Make believe that they are salmon in the sea!
Then, that every thought and dream may be the sweeter,
I will turn to him, my husband and my friend:
How the present joy will make the past completer!
How the early days will sanctify the end!
Passing from my pleasant dream of days behind me,
Dream of English gardens, English hill and sky,
Golden splendid Southern sunlight will remind me
That I'm dreaming on the shores of Italy!
I will turn to him, my husband and my friend:
How the present joy will make the past completer!
How the early days will sanctify the end!
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Dream of English gardens, English hill and sky,
Golden splendid Southern sunlight will remind me
That I'm dreaming on the shores of Italy!
Then a loving kiss will bring me to my senses;
I must leave the children, leave them far away,
Leave them labouring over nouns and verbs and tenses,
Leave them lonely at their labour and their play:
I must leave them, for my husband's voice is calling;
Leave the tender lovely dreams of early life;
See the curtain o'er the girl's work swiftly falling—
There's a grander mission waiting for the wife!
I must leave the children, leave them far away,
Leave them labouring over nouns and verbs and tenses,
Leave them lonely at their labour and their play:
I must leave them, for my husband's voice is calling;
Leave the tender lovely dreams of early life;
See the curtain o'er the girl's work swiftly falling—
There's a grander mission waiting for the wife!
| The Crucifixion of Man | |