 | Ballads of the North and Other Poems |  |
54
ALL SOULS' DAY.
We drave across the Ocean to the West,
On one November night of storm and rain;
When morning dawned the winds were laid to rest,
And quiet was the main.
On one November night of storm and rain;
When morning dawned the winds were laid to rest,
And quiet was the main.
And in the lull of the day-dawning dim
A stranger stood on the deck and looked around,
And lordly spake to the Captain asking him,
‘Whither is this ship bound?’
A stranger stood on the deck and looked around,
And lordly spake to the Captain asking him,
‘Whither is this ship bound?’
And the Captain answered, ‘Sir, we sail on yonder,
Straight onward to the Islands of the Blest,
To the Haven of the Saints who went before us,
Far in the farthest West.’
Straight onward to the Islands of the Blest,
To the Haven of the Saints who went before us,
Far in the farthest West.’
‘And whom do you carry on your good ship forward?’
‘Valiant hearts, and full of faith are every one,
That will not fail till they reach the land of glory,
Past the setting of the sun.’
‘Valiant hearts, and full of faith are every one,
That will not fail till they reach the land of glory,
Past the setting of the sun.’
‘The way is long,’ said the stranger musing inly,
‘Yea,’ said the Captain, ‘and a perilous way;
With the storm, the deep, the dark, the air's dominion,
We must battle night and day.’
‘Yea,’ said the Captain, ‘and a perilous way;
With the storm, the deep, the dark, the air's dominion,
We must battle night and day.’
‘I am here,’ said the other, ‘to conduct, if any
Will forsake the blessed quest, and tarry here;
On this night alone I pass my post, and challenge
Whomsoever may draw near.
Will forsake the blessed quest, and tarry here;
On this night alone I pass my post, and challenge
Whomsoever may draw near.
‘Here lies the country invisible and haunted
Of All Souls, the innumerable, the sad,
And the night is here, and the morning when is granted
That some message may be had.
Of All Souls, the innumerable, the sad,
And the night is here, and the morning when is granted
That some message may be had.
56
‘All night their shadowy shores were round you lying,
Albeit with holden eyes you marked them not,
Around you streamed the anguish and the sighing
Of those whom ye forgot.
Albeit with holden eyes you marked them not,
Around you streamed the anguish and the sighing
Of those whom ye forgot.
‘And if any here will stay and break their voyage,
I have come to be their convoy thitherward,
Though the place be desolate and full of weeping,
I will be their guide and guard.’
I have come to be their convoy thitherward,
Though the place be desolate and full of weeping,
I will be their guide and guard.’
But the Captain spake, ‘Not one of these assembled
Will turn back disheartened from the Glorious Way;
There lies our path across the utmost ocean;’
With one voice they answered, ‘Yea!’
Will turn back disheartened from the Glorious Way;
There lies our path across the utmost ocean;’
With one voice they answered, ‘Yea!’
And the other said, ‘Are there none whom ye remember,
Who the feast of All the Saints may never share?
Are there none who think on you, and ask forgiveness,
Yet to hope it do not dare?’
Who the feast of All the Saints may never share?
Are there none who think on you, and ask forgiveness,
Yet to hope it do not dare?’
57
Then I spake, because the face of power and pity
Arrested and subdued me to his mind,
‘Let these pass on unto the Golden City,
But I will stay behind.’
Arrested and subdued me to his mind,
‘Let these pass on unto the Golden City,
But I will stay behind.’
He took my hand, and in a moment after
We two upon the waves were all alone,
In a small boat that swiftly stemmed the waters,
And the tall ship was gone.
We two upon the waves were all alone,
In a small boat that swiftly stemmed the waters,
And the tall ship was gone.
And the grave ferryman asked, as I sat wondering,
‘Grieve you not for the lost track of the Blessed Dead,
For the vision of All Saints, and all their splendour?’
‘Nay, mine were no Saints,’ I said.
‘Grieve you not for the lost track of the Blessed Dead,
For the vision of All Saints, and all their splendour?’
‘Nay, mine were no Saints,’ I said.
And I asked him, ‘In your lost land and forsaken,
Is there no hope, is it evermore the same?
Hath there not any come to bring good tidings?’
‘Yea,’ he said, ‘once One came.’
Is there no hope, is it evermore the same?
Hath there not any come to bring good tidings?’
‘Yea,’ he said, ‘once One came.’
58
‘And from this country is there no departing?
Is there no day of deliverance for All Souls?’
‘Nay, I know not of the times,’ he answered sighing,
‘Seals are upon those scrolls.’
Is there no day of deliverance for All Souls?’
‘Nay, I know not of the times,’ he answered sighing,
‘Seals are upon those scrolls.’
Now the day was breaking, and the light grew clearer,
Yet no glow of sunrise swept across the sky,
But a deep, sad blue coloured all the air and water,
And the land, as we drew nigh.
Yet no glow of sunrise swept across the sky,
But a deep, sad blue coloured all the air and water,
And the land, as we drew nigh.
In the blue of the hyacinth rose a hundred miles,
Dark, and a darkling shadow across the bay;
In the blue of the larkspur lay a thousand isles,
Open and low to the dawning of the day.
Dark, and a darkling shadow across the bay;
In the blue of the larkspur lay a thousand isles,
Open and low to the dawning of the day.
And the distant sky was cloudy blue and tender,
Not as the light of the sun makes blue the day;
And his garments were dark-blue who sat before me,
And light-blue was the spray
Not as the light of the sun makes blue the day;
And his garments were dark-blue who sat before me,
And light-blue was the spray
59
Of his oars, and all the morn melted in mystery
Of some new life begun, of some unknown sense
And the face before me grew more beatific,
And the low light more intense;
Of some new life begun, of some unknown sense
And the face before me grew more beatific,
And the low light more intense;
And the world grew magical and hushed in wonder,
And the gliding dream grew sweeter and more sweet;
And I cried, ‘Oh, what shore is this where we are landing?
Whom are you taking me to meet?’
And the gliding dream grew sweeter and more sweet;
And I cried, ‘Oh, what shore is this where we are landing?
Whom are you taking me to meet?’
| Ballads of the North and Other Poems | |