 | The Shadow Garden |  |
34
SCENE III
A Part of the Garden near two GravesShadow of a Dream:
I am the Dream of Life that those two lost. ...
For many years I have been near to them,
But they—they have not seen me, have forgotten:
My face they know no more, that still is fair
As once they made it, when their love created.
They gave me being and I go the rounds
Of this old Garden, giving expression to
Its inner loveliness.—Long since they died.
But I—I never die. Love lives in me.
What the dim Flowers here were talking of
I whispered to them many years ago.
They never can forget; nor can the Wind
And Fountain there forget. They sigh and sigh
Remembering me, the Dream, they think that died
35
But I am always here. They know me not,
Who knew me once so well. To-night, perhaps,
My beauty shall avail.—What say'st thou, Rose?
The Rose:
I saw thee coming and my buds took on
A new expression of young loveliness,
Caught from thy insubstantial form that seems
Arrested moonlight. ... Tell me: is there aught
That may avail in thee, or me, or these,—
These many Flowers of our wilderness,—
The Fountain or the Wind, or Moth, or Elves,
To help these Shadows in their wandering grief?
Shadow of a Dream:
In thee and these is naught. But here in me
Is something that may medicine their pain.
They have forgotten me and one they lost,
The Child, the faery Child, named Innocence,
Born of their souls' revealment long ago.
Through it, and it alone, forgotten long,
36
And old unhappiness and griefs of earth
Fall from them like dark raiment; and this place
Shall know their forms no more, gone forth with joy.
The Rose:
The air smells balmy here. What breathes around
Like Spring and Summer meeting in the dew
Beneath the thin new moon?—More spiced than I,
Sweet Flower of the night, tell me thy name.
August Lily:
I have no name, except a general one;
And that, they say, 's plebeian. But, like thee,
I'm of an ancient aristocracy.—
The human Christ bade men regard me; yea,
Consider my loveliness.—I have turned poet;
Music of beautiful words possesses me:
Such high attention, such authority,
And memory of that speech, which masters me,
37
And mediatte on beauty evermore,
And all my thoughts are fragrance. ... 'T was a thought,
That came to me to-night, whose myrrhed breath spiced
The air so sweetly, swooning on thy sense.
A mystery whispered it, or something there,
Some presence that I know not, haply Love's,
That sank into my heart like honeydew.
Its revelation fills me still with wonder
Of secret perfume, as it filled me when
God thought us into flowers, and His eyes
Rejoiced in us, and rested on us there
In Eden, and He saw that we were fair.
Therefore it is all Flowers are beautiful,
And sinless as the first-born children of God;
And all we ask is that men give us thought,
And be as we are, sinless and serene,
Dreaming their lives out.
Shadow of a Dream:
Life is but a dream.—
38
You took your cue from me. You but repeat.—
Shadow of a Dream:
A dream that 's born again for new delight.—
Spring does not perish; nor the Rose.—Imperishable,
They have immortal life, retaining each
Its own identity within the soul:
Part of the dreams are they that they suggest;
Symbolic thoughts through which our mother, Nature,
Expresses her desires, and aye renews
Her beauty. So there 's no such thing as death.
August Lily:
Thou art elusive as a dream should be.
My cousin here 's impressed.—O gentle Rose,
Why art thou so absorbed upon the grass?
The Rose:
I see my petals dropping, one by one.
I see them lying for the Wind to scatter.
Thou dost not know, hast never pressed a heart,
A human heart, and turned to dust with it.
39
Naught know I of the human heart, or grief.
Man comes and goes, I care not whence or whither.
His sorrows touch me not, nor do his joys.—
O Grass, why listenest thou? What dost thou feel?
The Grass:
I feel the dimpled coming of sweet feet.
A Child's Soul weights me with ineffable joy.
The Rose:
What leads it hither?
The Grass:
The Shadow of a Dream.
Sweet Alyssum:
I thrill with beauty, and my flowers take on
A happier whiteness, poignancy of scent.
Mignonette:
Its young approach trembles my roots like rain;
And one by one I feel new buds in me.
The Fountain
(from a distance):
Bring it to me! bring it to me!—I'm fain
To look upon its face I see afar.
Let its pure gaze go down in me and change
My depths as starlight changes. Bring it to me.
40
(approaching):
Yea; I will bring it to thee. Have no fear.
It shall be ours. I'll make it thine and mine.
Poppy:
What is this sweet disturbance, balmed with love
As is my bloom with dew?—What shakes my heart,
Unfolding all my slumber-heavy leaves?
Some dim delirium that anticipates
Unborn desire, that gives me newer life
Before 't is asked? ... In all my opiate pods
I feel imperious perfume, that responds
To some approaching gladness.—What is this
That makes the night more beautiful than it is?
Shadow of a Dream:
A dream it is, and yet it is no dream.
A Soul it is—Soul of a little Child.
Foxglove:
What doth possess me? What enfolds my flowers?
Claims me, compels me? makes my bells one peal
Of delicate pearl, showering the anxious air
41
Marigold:
My amber dazzles into gold, like flame;
And the musked bitterness, that made my bloom
Acrid as sorrow, is grown suddenly sweet,
Touched with the moonlight of a Child's gold head.
Phlox:
Oh, what is this strange beauty over me?
Like some long flower crowned with curling fire,
Yet fairer than the fairest lily that blows,
Epitomising all of purity
And poetry in its immortal face.
The Wind:
Violets and windflowers in its heavenly hair,
Innocence it is who runs among the Flowers.
I'll breathe upon its eyes and make it mine,
And lead it to the Fountain there to play.
Shadow of a Dream:
Would'st thou mislead it?—Nay; this Soul is mine.
Hither I called it. It returns to me.
42
Soul of a Child:
What voices were those that I heard, or dreamed?
'T was as if fragrance spoke. I see but Flowers,
And feel the night Wind in my dewy hair.—
I thought I heard my mother calling me.
The Wind:
Its voice is like remembered melody.
The Rose:
Or like a bud unfolding into flower.
The Wind:
A Flower that shall be mine within the hour.
Soul of a Child:
Mother! O Mother!—Did my mother call?—
Who is it whispers at my ear? and sighs
Sweet promises of something on my eyes?—
The Wind! my playmate Wind, who flings a ball
Of thistledown before me. See it bowl!
Shadow of a Dream:
Wilt thou not see me? Look at me at all?
The Wind:
Come, follow me! come with me, thou sweet Soul.
43
Shadow of a Dream:
It follows the Wind. See where it dances there!
Someway, somehow, it must return to me—
It must return before those Lovers come.—
When will they come?—I dare not seek them out,
And leave the Child to wander with the Wind,
Play on the Fountain's edge that sings to it,
Luring its beauty down,—like some pale Faery
That smiling clasps, and, for its loveliness,
Slays some fair soul that listen'd to its song.—
Oh, that the Elves were here to help me now!
The fair, protecting powers that have in ward
The loveliness and innocence of earth!
[Passes on.
Poppy:
What wings, or winds, are these that bend my head?—
I feel dim feet, like moonbeams, on my hair.
[The Elves appear.
Larkspur:
O languor-laden, lift thy brows and see:
44
Elves of the Moonlight:
Look at that yellow spider on yon Rose.
What a huge web he spins to catch one gnat
Or whining fly! But webs are snares for dew
As well as gnats; his wondrous diagram,
Think you he gat it from his head? or stomach?—
Wherein he carries this material,
The fluid silk, the nimbly running silver,
From which he weaves his lairs.—Old ingenuity,
Come, quit thy mathematics! thy designs!
And leave thy web,—that serves, in some grey way,
The purposes of beauty. ... Come, turn out,
Thou long-shanked spinner!—So!—Thy web remains
For dawn to rope with rain. But thou, be off!
Elves of the Starlight:
What makes the air so anxious here? What holds
With tension as of some large hope at pause,
Some purposed good perpending or per formed?—
45
Moonflower:
A Child,
Who seeks its mother whom it can not find.
The Wind and Fountain lead its soul astray.
The Grass:
I felt its light feet press me and became
Its slave, albeit, as all Elfins know,
I am no servile thing. My heart is brave
With much endurance, and inured to hardship,
And strong with strength of many years of youth.
Elves of the Starlight:
Thou hast a small voice for so brave a thing.
But thou combinest littleness with greatness,
A happy union that has helped thee far
In hiding many a man-made scar of earth.
Courage is thine; nowhere thou fear'st to go.
The Grass:
Speak not to me of courage. Bring the Child.
I long to feel the pressure of its feet,
And of the feet of those for whom it seeks.
Elves of the Moonlight:
What, now, hath more integrity than Grass,
Or reverence of life, or joy in beauty!—
46
That hath designs on yon deep-bosomed Rose.
Out! thou legged gluttony, with thy bristling paunch!
Wouldst gorge on beauty always!—Not tonight!—
Weeds be thy supper in yon place of weeds.
There cram thy pulpy gullet till thou burst.
Elves of the Starlight:
O Flower of the Moon, what didst thou say?—
A Child, a Soul, the Wind hath led astray?—
There stands a shadow near it like a dream.
Moonflower:
The Shadow of a Dream that called it here
I know not why.—'T is very beautiful.
Soul of a Child
(prattling in the distance):
Come, dance with me, thou merry, merry Wind!
Come, take me by the curls and carry me,
And toss me like a puff-ball o'er the Fountain.
The Fountain:
Come here to me and lean along my marge.
Come, let me clasp thee to my foam-cold breast.
47
Not yet; not yet. When I am tired of play.
When I am tired of play. Not yet; not yet.
Elves of the Moonlight:
Here is that spider's mate: come, pluck her forth,
The bloated horror! Let her follow him
Into the weeds and lay her grim snares there.
Luck send the worm and all its feverish hair
Into her clutches. May she eat and die
And so both have an end!—Now let's away.—
Elves of the Starlight:
See! there's a light within that yew-tree coigne,
Set round with thorns. It hovers o'er a grave.
Hither it comes, a Shadow trailing it.
[The SHADOW OF A DREAM appears.
Shadow of a Dream:
Worse than a Will-o'-Wisp, it will not wend
The way that I would have it.—Elfins, you,
Light people of the starbeams and the moon,
Assist me now. Drive ye that lanthorn hither;
That little light which shines so far away.
Elves of the Star- and Moon-light
(as
48
Aye! we will drive it for you.—Follow, follow!
Come, brothers, hunt it from the haunted hollow.
Be it a Gnome or Goblin, Imp or Faery,
It shall come forth and show us.—Now be wary!—
It can't escape us.—Ah! you see!—Surround it.—
Well generaled, Pixies!—Out with it, and hound it!
[Circling the Firefly they chant:
Drive it, drive it!
Let it not escape!—
Keep it to the right or left.—
Drive it in a spider's weft.—
It may take some other shape—
Worm or beetle, moth or eft;
Wriggle in some crack or cleft,
In the goblin earth agape.—
Drive it, drive it!
Let it not escape.
[The Firefly appears surrounded with Elves.
49
Welcome, thou wandering fire!—Thanks to you
My airy ministers of dusk and dew,
Who dance on moonbeams, and who make the rays
Of starlight your pale bridges. Go your ways;
You have performed my bidding; your reward
Shall be to tesselate with flowers this sward,
And see two souls made happy.
Elves of the Star- and Moon light:
Come away!
Our work is done here. Soon the Break of Day
Will flutter on the hills her gown of mist,
And bind her sandals on of amethyst.—
Our work is done. Come, let us go away.
Back of somewhere we feel the Break of Day.
[Elves pass on.
Firefly:
O Shadow with the eyes of Long-ago,
Pointing with violet light the golden gloom,
What wouldst thou with me? I obey thee now.
Shadow of a Dream:
Thou seest the little Child who dances there?—
50
Who wander in the darkness. Thou must know
My purpose is that it and they shall meet:
And from that meeting happiness shall grow.
Firefly
(departing in the direction of the Child):
I go, I go,
Like a will-o'-the-wisp,—
Let the Night-Wind blow
And the Fountain crisp:
From the Night-Wind's lisp
And the Fountain's flow,
I know, I know,
Like a will-o'-the-wisp,
With a glimmer of green and a flicker of gold,
I will lead the Child to the place I'm told.
[The Shadows of the Man and Woman appear.
Shadow of the Man:
Who lured our light away?—Where is it gone?—
I saw it shimmer here a moment since.—
What Shadow grows between us and the Flowers?
51
The Shadow of a Dream that once you knew.
Shadow of the Man:
What Dream is that?—Many have been our Dreams,
But all have died; not one sweet Dream remains.—
But thou—thou hast the lineaments of them all. ...
Mightily thou takest me by the heartstrings here
With old, imperishable longings lost.
Soul of a Child
(in the distance):
Dance, little gleam! I'm tired of Wind and Wave.
And you are lovely as a little star.—
Twinkle again before me. Ah, you know,
I wish you 'd lead me where my mother is.
Mother! (Drawing nearer.)
Mother!—Where can my mother be?
[The Soul of a Child appears following the Firefly.
Shadow of the Woman:
Some Child is lost here in this world of Flowers.
52
Dear, dancing light, to lead me and so far!—
I fear I'm lost now.—See, the Flowers sleep.
The Wind is angry with me and the Fountain
Weeps that I have departed. I am lost,
So says the Wind, and it knows everything.—
Don't leave me now!—'Tis gone.—How still it is!—
Where is my mother?—Mother!—
Shadow of a Dream:
Little Soul,
Here is thy mother and thy father too.
Shadow of the Woman:
It is our Child. She is returned to us.—
O head of gold, where hast thou been so long?
Shadow of the Man:
Thou didst not call for me, O heart of joy!—
Look in my eyes. Know'st thou thy father, Child?
Soul of a Child:
I could not see you, father, for the Flowers.—
And I have found you both?—How good God is!
53
Our Child! our little Joy come back again!
Shadow of the Woman
(impulsively):
Here, take our hands and lead us from this place,
O young-eyed Innocence, whose soul is song.
Long have our hearts been grief-bound, and the night
Contained us and there was no hint of dawn.—
Long have we waited for thy coming, Sweet.
[A Cock crows in the dim distance.
All the Flowers
(as with one voice):
The Dawn! the Dawn!—It is the Dawn! the Dawn!
Shadow of a Dream:
Hold fast its hands. Now look into my eyes:
I am the Dream that long ago you dreamed,
The Dream that never dies; that led it here,
Your long-lost Child, your little Innocence,
Who holds your hands now and will lead you safe
Out of this Garden of the Shadow of Death.
Soul of a Child:
How old this Garden looks! How grey and old!—
54
Wakes on the drowsy ledges of the hills.
Grey, old, and sad; and all the Flowers are changed
To sorrowful lights that stare at me like eyes
And chill me to the heart.—Oh, let us go!—
Hold fast my hands and I will lead the way.
[They pass out of the Garden and beyond.
Shadow of the Man:
The day breaks, see! The darkness fades away.
Soul of a Child:
The darkness fades not: 't is the light that comes.
These are the heights. See, here 's the Edelweiss.
How cold and pure it looks, and so alone!—
Are Flowers ever lonesome, ever sad?
Shadow of the Woman:
All mortal things are sad and Flowers die.—
Sweet Child, thy voice thrills through me like young song.
Look! it is Morning. Mists sweep round us here,
And, oh,—the Garden!—See! the Garden 's gone!
55
Look back no more. Yonder our pathway lies.
The Garden and its Flowers were merely mist,
And have returned to that from which they sprang.—
Look back no more. Morning and Joy are ours.
| The Shadow Garden | |