 | To the end of the trail |  |
41
II
43
SHORT BEACH
Oh, the salt wind in my nostrils!
And the white sail in the creek!
And the blue beyond the marshes!
And the flag at the peak!
And the white sail in the creek!
And the blue beyond the marshes!
And the flag at the peak!
My soul lifts to the bugles
Of a far cry on the breeze—
The cry of my storm-kin calling
Overseas, overseas!
Of a far cry on the breeze—
The cry of my storm-kin calling
Overseas, overseas!
Blow, horns of the old sea-rapture!
When your call comes from afar.
I would rise from the grave to reach you
Where the sea-dooms are!
When your call comes from afar.
I would rise from the grave to reach you
Where the sea-dooms are!
July, 1898.
THE GYPSY
I found her in a gypsy camp
Between the night and morning.
I was a roving, loving scamp,
She was a child of morning.
Between the night and morning.
I was a roving, loving scamp,
She was a child of morning.
She had the wood-dew in her hair,
The road-dust on her feet,
The sting and thrill of mountain air
Made all her motion sweet.
The road-dust on her feet,
The sting and thrill of mountain air
Made all her motion sweet.
44
She moved with something like the grace
Of migratory birds.
The wander-longing in her face
Was like forgotten words.
Of migratory birds.
The wander-longing in her face
Was like forgotten words.
THE ORIENT
A FRAGMENT
[OMITTED]
The sleet of battle and the hurricane of drums
Blight for a while the calm chrysanthemums,
To clear the air
For the new April that engenders there.
But though her strenuous to-morrow
Get from the West a heritage of sorrow,
Shall not the spirit of Japan
Transmute the urge, the bitterness, the moan,
To some great bloom of beauty yet unknown
To meet the vision of the coming man?
Blight for a while the calm chrysanthemums,
To clear the air
For the new April that engenders there.
But though her strenuous to-morrow
Get from the West a heritage of sorrow,
Shall not the spirit of Japan
Transmute the urge, the bitterness, the moan,
To some great bloom of beauty yet unknown
To meet the vision of the coming man?
India, a Sabine bride,
About the hearthstone of her ravisher
Sets up her household gods; and at her side
His children learn of her.
And surely in her bosom, too, there lies
A mystery unborn.
Ay, surely, an apocalyptic morn,
In Vishnu-land an avatar shall rise.
And the West is with child of the East and the travail is long,
A travail of song.
And the East is with child of the West and the travail is sore,
A travail of war. [OMITTED]
About the hearthstone of her ravisher
Sets up her household gods; and at her side
His children learn of her.
And surely in her bosom, too, there lies
A mystery unborn.
Ay, surely, an apocalyptic morn,
In Vishnu-land an avatar shall rise.
45
A travail of song.
And the East is with child of the West and the travail is sore,
A travail of war. [OMITTED]
May, 1896.
À STEPHANE MALLARMÉ
A FRAGMENT
On battlemented MorningsideThe gold alembic days distil,
The violet rocks remember yet
The winter winds that moaned and sighed.
The grasses and the leaves are still.
DISCOVERY
A FRAGMENT
ACT III
Scene.—Mid-Ocean, on board the Santa Maria. COLUMBUS, NINO, ROLDAN, MATHEOS, near the man at the wheel. About the deck and in the forecastle Sailors, among them GIACOMO, the46
COLUMBUS.
Steersman, hold straight into the west.
NINO.
The birds
Fly southward, sir.
COLUMBUS.
They do.
NINO.
They seem land-birds, sir.
COLUMBUS.
And seek the land. I think it probable
Some island lies there, Nino.
NINO.
Your pardon, sir,
But why hold course to westward if the land
Be in the south?
COLUMBUS.
The land is in the west.
Haphazard islets in the middle sea
May rise leagues from the mainland. Not for such
Have we outsailed the Carthaginian dream
And pierced the sea of glooms. Steersman, I say,
Hold straight into the west.
47
MATHEOS.
What say you, Roldan?
Does he not carry it right hidalgo-like,
Our paper grandee, Admiral of the clouds,
And viceroy of the moon?
ROLDAN.
We whom he promised gold, this Genovese,
We shall go back to beg for copper sous
About the streets of Seville.
NINO.
Back, my masters!
Now, by St. James, I would that day were here,
For I am fearsome it will never dawn.
ROLDAN.
What mean you?
NINO.
Shall we evermore see Spain again?
I have served twenty captains in my life,
And but one madman. Have ye ne'er heard tales
Of phantom ships that seek to make a port
And fail forever?
MATHEOS.
We see Spain again;
The order's ta'en for that.
48
Be still! The Joker!
NINO.
Sirs, what's afoot?
MATHEOS.
Which do you set the higher,
Life and Castile or this Italian Boaster?
NINO.
I ne'er feared death in a fair fight, my mates,
But who will pour his life out for a whim
Or strive with the Devil knows what! Have you seen naught
O' nights upon your watch, strange and unnatural?
MATHEOS.
What, you have seen it, too?
NINO.
And you have seen it?
ROLDAN.
The needle?
NINO.
Ay, it points no longer north—
MATHEOS.
Or else the Pole-star wavers from its place;
NINO.
But if the eternal sky is still secure
49
That makes the iron veer toward the west
As if some magnet greater than the Pole
Lay yonder where we steer; that Mount Magnetic
That like the Kraken of the North devours
The ocean leagues like grass, and which men say
Sucks out the rivets of the stoutest ships
Letting them melt into their elements
Like frostwork in the sun.
ROLDAN.
Be still, I say;
Here comes the Genovese!
MATHEOS.
More words with you.
(They draw apart; COLUMBUS and DE ARANA on the port side.)
COLUMBUS.
And still holds fair, you see.
DE ARANA.
True, sir, and yet
Uneasily I shift my thought about
With something, I confess, of awe,—well, fear,
Fear, if you will!
COLUMBUS.
You say it, De Arana,
Not I.
50
How far the loneliness recedes!
The weight o' the stillness stifles!
COLUMBUS.
We are the first
Except the angels who have looked upon
The silence of this sea—and yet behold
How beautiful it is! Ocean and sky
Tremble with heat and color; each light vapour
Encrimsons with the sun, and the clear deeps
Let the light plunge down fathoms undersea,
Where the strange embryo life of Ocean moves
As on the first day when the spirit of God
Was brooding on the waters. Oh, it is good
To know the secrets of this world! And I
Believe, Arana, nay I know, the day
Nears when God's wisdom shall reveal to us
What no man yet has seen or dreamed on earth,
Scholar or seaman. I seem to feel already
The far-off power of equatorial suns
And dim foretokens of the austral sky.
(He retires, and seeks the lookout.)
DE ARANA.
He dreams, he dreams—even as he dreamed in Spain,
While the court mocked and whispered. Now almost
51
Believes himself. I am his kinsman—half—
Through Beatrix! If I break faith with Pinzon,
Who is but my countryman, and rip the mask
From this revolt that threats to make this night
An end of all his dreams!
I have good will to it. Break faith with Pinzon?
What's that but keep faith with the Genovese?
Bah, I dream, too! The crews are as one man
And will not venture farther. Who is he
That can compel them? Though the receding West
Held Edens for his Indies, Founts of youth
And trees of life for gems and mines of gold,
He stands alone. Well, well! When all is said,
I shall be glad, for one, to be in Spain.
Giacomo!
GIACOMO.
(Approaching.)
Ay, sir.
DE ARANA.
Yet no land?
GIACOMO.
Nor would be
If we sailed on for ever.
DE ARANA.
Is 't to-night?
52
Ay, sir.
DE ARANA.
The signal?
GIACOMO.
The boatswain's whistle, sir. The Pinta and the Nina run along side at nightfall, as soon as the commander goes below for his devotion.
SANCHEZ.
(Who has drawn near from behind.)
Ay, his
Angelus—or his Diabolus, for I am sure the devil
is in this wind that blows always with his desires.
GIACOMO.
You say well, sir. We are all agreed there is sorcery in 't.
SANCHEZ.
Or else there blow no winds for Spain in these waters.
DE ARANA.
Well, well!—But when he is saying his prayers, be they to angel or devil, what then?
GIACOMO.
Why, sir, then I pipe all hands on deck, and before Windbags knows what's up, the Captains Pinzon and their crews have boarded us.
53
It is near nightfall now.
GIACOMO.
Ay, sir, and the dark comes on here like the blowing out of a light in a cellar.
DE ARANA.
Or a tomb. The sun sets, and Night stalks over the sea in seven league boots.
GIACOMO.
We come too near her dwelling place.
WILLIAM IRES.
(In a group of sailors on the starboard side.)
Eh, mates, but I'm of another mind. Faith, I think
there's land ahead, but we've passed it. Didn't the
blessed St. Brandon sail into the west and discover
a land so beautiful that he never came back again?
And by the same token he was an Irishman.
TALLARTE.
He must have been. That is a very Irish story.
IRES.
That's your Saxon envy, Tallarte de Lajes. It takes more than a Spanish name to hide an English dunderhead.
TALLARTE.
If your old bog-trotting saint discovered something, why don't anybody know it?
54
Faith he kept it to himself, and that's the chief pleasure of a discovery.
TALLARTE.
Then I suppose you're for going ahead.
IRES.
I am, with the ship turned around—
GIACOMO.
(Who has joined them.)
Who talks of going
ahead?
TALLARTE.
William Ires.
IRES.
Who told you so? I said the old man was right in looking for land, for an Irishman and a saint found it before him. And that I will maintain. But I am in favour of going back, and listen you all, it is not because I am afraid—but because I am tired of sailing in one direction.
GIACOMO.
Corpo di Baccho, there may be land ahead worse than the sea—Listen, I have just overheard the mates saying that by a sure computation we should come in eight days more to a mountain made all of loadstone.
SEBASTIAN.
Mother of God!
55
And as soon as we come in sight of this mountain, the bolts will all fly out of their places and the ships sink into the sea.
SAILORS.
Oh, Oh!
SEBASTIAN.
And hark ye, Master Giacomo, I have been told by Moors, to whom the Devil has taught much forbidden knowledge, that in these parts dwelleth the great bird, Roc, whose wings darken the sky, and who grasps the largest frigate with his mighty talons as easily as an owl clutches a field-mouse. Then soaring up higher than the topmost clouds, tears it to atoms and drops them in the sea.
SAILORS.
Oh, oh!
GIACOMO.
Masters, this is a voyage of ill-fortune.
SAILORS.
Ay, that it is.
GIACOMO.
First, we set sail on a Friday.
A SAILOR.
No good ever came of beginning aught o' Friday.
GIACOMO.
Then there was the burning mountain.
56
Teneriffe!
GIACOMO.
Ay, Teneriffe, terrific, set in the sea
To warn the impious back that dare to press
Beyond the bounds of things! All night it flared,
Blazoning on the clouds tremendous dooms,
While from the dark we watched and trembled, Yet
This portent braved, and the long cutting through
The interminable net of magic herbs,
That strove to wind us in a woven charm,
Still lured by signs of land from league to league
Which still proved lying, till the very stars
Began to shift in heaven— (Four bells.)
COLUMBUS.
Steersman, hold straight into the West! The Angelus.
(Silence, during which COLUMBUS disappears into the cabin. Here and there a sailor drops on his knees, crosses himself and prays. GIACOMO blows his whistle. Sailors silently come on deck from below—It darkens—The Pinta and Nina have come alongside.)
Enter over the taffrail, PINZON, and sailors.
PINZON.
Seamen.
[OMITTED]
57
PÈRE AMBROISE
Did you see the joy and peace of God's great grace
On her face!
Did you hear the calm still sainthood in her speak
Through her cheek?
Then that light of holy knowledge, clear and wise,
In her eyes?
—Ere her face was hid forever, chaste and pale,
By the veil,
Ere the vision and the glory and the light
Passed from sight,
Loving, trusting, God's own work that God had blessed,
Full of rest.
On her face!
Did you hear the calm still sainthood in her speak
Through her cheek?
Then that light of holy knowledge, clear and wise,
In her eyes?
—Ere her face was hid forever, chaste and pale,
By the veil,
Ere the vision and the glory and the light
Passed from sight,
Loving, trusting, God's own work that God had blessed,
Full of rest.
Yet she loved me in a fashion as I think.
Just a chink
In the lattice of her heart let through one day
One faint ray
Of the roselight of the morning of love's skies
On my eyes,
And the phantom of the roselight on her cheek
Bade me speak.
Had I spoken, had I fanned the spark aflame,
Would the same
Fate have fallen on us, think you, now we dree
—I and she?
Just a chink
In the lattice of her heart let through one day
One faint ray
Of the roselight of the morning of love's skies
On my eyes,
And the phantom of the roselight on her cheek
Bade me speak.
Had I spoken, had I fanned the spark aflame,
Would the same
Fate have fallen on us, think you, now we dree
—I and she?
58
But I stopped, even while my heart leaped with the mirth
Of love's birth,
Stopped—I thought I heard God's messenger somewhere
—In the air,
Was it?—bid unbuskin lest my footprints wound
Holy ground.
Sweet wise novice, she was seeking truer bliss,
Jesu's kiss.
I, God's consecrated priest, should I step in,
Thrust between
Her white soul and endless love my poor love-dower
Of an hour!
Of love's birth,
Stopped—I thought I heard God's messenger somewhere
—In the air,
Was it?—bid unbuskin lest my footprints wound
Holy ground.
Sweet wise novice, she was seeking truer bliss,
Jesu's kiss.
I, God's consecrated priest, should I step in,
Thrust between
Her white soul and endless love my poor love-dower
Of an hour!
So I rushed away and left her standing there,
Tall and fair
As the angel when he stood by Mary's side,
Awed, and cried
“Ave, plena gratia!” seeing her fair sweet face,
Full of grace.
Holy Mother! may she never know the cause
Made me pause
So abruptly! Well, love's might-be in her breast
Slept unguessed
Save by me, and I—I left her, tall and fair,
Standing there.
Ah, the bitter tears I shed then, all alone,
Falling prone
Tall and fair
As the angel when he stood by Mary's side,
Awed, and cried
“Ave, plena gratia!” seeing her fair sweet face,
Full of grace.
Holy Mother! may she never know the cause
Made me pause
So abruptly! Well, love's might-be in her breast
Slept unguessed
Save by me, and I—I left her, tall and fair,
Standing there.
Ah, the bitter tears I shed then, all alone,
Falling prone
59
Where the crucifix within the shadow hangs
—God's own pangs,
God's death shown in symbol, His heartache divine
Dwarfing mine
—At the priedieu in the corner of the room
In the gloom.
And I sobbed myself to silence, let heart break
For His sake,
As His Sacred Heart long since at Calvary
Broke for me.
—God's own pangs,
God's death shown in symbol, His heartache divine
Dwarfing mine
—At the priedieu in the corner of the room
In the gloom.
And I sobbed myself to silence, let heart break
For His sake,
As His Sacred Heart long since at Calvary
Broke for me.
I had taught her, I had poured into her ear
All the dear
Mystic wonder of the Love above all love,—
Tried to prove
To her pure faith, where no need of proof was, how
Man should now
Give the love back as completely as he can,
Being but man,
Pain for pain and blood for blood and strife for strife,
—Life for life.
How her face flushed—then grew paler than blown mist,
Rapt and whist!
No heat like the iron when it whitens!—so
When she'd show
That death-pallor in her cheek while eye-fires blazed,
Unamazed
I had seen her brave the Devil, stood he where
She must fare
Past him in the sheer high pathway that she trod
Leads to God,—
She had plunged her hand with Mutius in the flame,
Faced the shame
And the suffering, the spitting and the spear,
Without fear.
All the dear
Mystic wonder of the Love above all love,—
Tried to prove
To her pure faith, where no need of proof was, how
Man should now
Give the love back as completely as he can,
Being but man,
Pain for pain and blood for blood and strife for strife,
—Life for life.
How her face flushed—then grew paler than blown mist,
Rapt and whist!
No heat like the iron when it whitens!—so
When she'd show
That death-pallor in her cheek while eye-fires blazed,
Unamazed
60
She must fare
Past him in the sheer high pathway that she trod
Leads to God,—
She had plunged her hand with Mutius in the flame,
Faced the shame
And the suffering, the spitting and the spear,
Without fear.
So I wakened in her heart the first desire
For the higher
Life of utter selflessness and sacrifice,
Saw arise
A great innocent fearlessness that made me fear,
Saw appear
Golden first-fruits of devotion ripening
In the spring
Of the new Christ-year whose Easter bade her then
Rise again;
And I loved her in her life of love and prayer
Unaware.
For the higher
Life of utter selflessness and sacrifice,
Saw arise
A great innocent fearlessness that made me fear,
Saw appear
Golden first-fruits of devotion ripening
In the spring
Of the new Christ-year whose Easter bade her then
Rise again;
And I loved her in her life of love and prayer
Unaware.
Unaware!—ah, but now the clouds withdrew
And I knew!—
Felt the might of love within me rend my heart,
Great drops start
From my body as I agonized, lying there,
In despair!
And I called upon her, murmured her sweet name
Should God claim
This of all things, more to me than all the gold
World could hold,
More than fame, power, victory in the dearest strife
—More than life!
And I knew!—
Felt the might of love within me rend my heart,
Great drops start
From my body as I agonized, lying there,
In despair!
61
Should God claim
This of all things, more to me than all the gold
World could hold,
More than fame, power, victory in the dearest strife
—More than life!
More than God, I had almost said. But that wild thought
Stopped me—brought
Fear upon me—a great horror. Then light broke
Through the smoke
Round about me and I seemed to see God's plan
Chastening man.
“I, the Lord thy God, a jealous God, demand
Heart and hand
First for Me to labor, first love Me, My sway
First obey
—Mine your firstlings, Mine your first fruits, Mine your best
—Costliest!”
Stopped me—brought
Fear upon me—a great horror. Then light broke
Through the smoke
Round about me and I seemed to see God's plan
Chastening man.
“I, the Lord thy God, a jealous God, demand
Heart and hand
First for Me to labor, first love Me, My sway
First obey
—Mine your firstlings, Mine your first fruits, Mine your best
—Costliest!”
Was not she my dearest, best—fit sacrifice
In God's eyes,
Lest perchance her image leave nought in my heart
For His part?
Might it not be best for me to lose her here?
She so near,
God so far away in heaven, how should I not
Have forgot
God,—seeing the wondrous beauty of her hair,
And the fair
Angel face—and then the deeps, the mysteries
Of her eyes!
In God's eyes,
Lest perchance her image leave nought in my heart
For His part?
Might it not be best for me to lose her here?
She so near,
62
Have forgot
God,—seeing the wondrous beauty of her hair,
And the fair
Angel face—and then the deeps, the mysteries
Of her eyes!
If I give her now to God, my pearl of price,
Greater thrice
In my eyes—ah, heaven!—than all else life has brought,
Shall He not,
In the yonder-world when I have burned away
All the clay
From my spirit and the gold alone remains,
Bless my pains
With this gift back from His hands that took to give?
“Die to live,”
Was His word of old. Dead love may, like dead men,
Rise again,—
Greater thrice
In my eyes—ah, heaven!—than all else life has brought,
Shall He not,
In the yonder-world when I have burned away
All the clay
From my spirit and the gold alone remains,
Bless my pains
With this gift back from His hands that took to give?
“Die to live,”
Was His word of old. Dead love may, like dead men,
Rise again,—
Not to earth-life here, but at the Day of Days
In the place
Of God's dwelling, where reflections of the Trine
Union shine
Through innumerable unions, caught and bound
In one round
Up to Him and in Him by a mystery strange
That shall change
All the myrrh of sorrow offered at His shrine
Into Wine.
Shall God scorn a broken heart? Shall He despise
Sacrifice?
In the place
Of God's dwelling, where reflections of the Trine
Union shine
Through innumerable unions, caught and bound
In one round
63
That shall change
All the myrrh of sorrow offered at His shrine
Into Wine.
Shall God scorn a broken heart? Shall He despise
Sacrifice?
Then I looked up at the crucifix above—
God's great love
Broke upon me like a torrent whirling down
Tower and town
In its pathway,—and the mystery grew more clear
Symboled there.
What was man's poor love in 's farthest weariest reach,
—Loftiest niche
Man could statue in his heart's cathedral,—height
Of heart's flight,—
To God's love before the ages had begun
For His Son!
God's great love
Broke upon me like a torrent whirling down
Tower and town
In its pathway,—and the mystery grew more clear
Symboled there.
What was man's poor love in 's farthest weariest reach,
—Loftiest niche
Man could statue in his heart's cathedral,—height
Of heart's flight,—
To God's love before the ages had begun
For His Son!
Holier than the holiest love that e'er the earth
Brought to birth,
Mary's for the Christ-child, burning brighter far
Than the star
Led the wise men—She our sea-star, beaconing,
So to bring
Us too with her to the Christ—she, who became
Heaven's Dame!—
Holier still and higher and swifter Thine,
Love Divine,
Outsoars Mary's even, far as hers outsoars
Height of ours.
Brought to birth,
Mary's for the Christ-child, burning brighter far
Than the star
Led the wise men—She our sea-star, beaconing,
So to bring
Us too with her to the Christ—she, who became
Heaven's Dame!—
64
Love Divine,
Outsoars Mary's even, far as hers outsoars
Height of ours.
Yet God gave His Son—O mystery that sleeps
In God's deeps!—
Let His infinite Love be tortured—pierced and torn—
Turned to scorn
For our sake—ay, even for this poor half-divine
Love of mine.
Now He asks me, shall I shrink to give Him thence
Recompense?
How the mist about me at this break of day
Cleared away
And God's meaning slowly, like the morning, stole
On my soul!
In God's deeps!—
Let His infinite Love be tortured—pierced and torn—
Turned to scorn
For our sake—ay, even for this poor half-divine
Love of mine.
Now He asks me, shall I shrink to give Him thence
Recompense?
How the mist about me at this break of day
Cleared away
And God's meaning slowly, like the morning, stole
On my soul!
Yield you, bend your will to His will; who obeys,
Gets God's grace.
Though the Devil's pride within you still impel
To rebel,
Keeping back the day of God's fulfilment here,
Do not fear,—
Vanquished is victorious; freedom's self-defeat
Being complete,
Then the purpose of God's lesson is made known,
Hell's o'erthrown,
And submission lifts to higher liberty—
Love makes free.
Gets God's grace.
Though the Devil's pride within you still impel
To rebel,
Keeping back the day of God's fulfilment here,
Do not fear,—
Vanquished is victorious; freedom's self-defeat
Being complete,
Then the purpose of God's lesson is made known,
Hell's o'erthrown,
65
Love makes free.
If you yield you as the helpless knife obeys
Him that slays—
As the senseless waters tumble down the hill,
Will or nill,
That's the Stoic, that benumbs you, makes you slave,
As Christ gave
Freedom, life for you, so give you with good will,
Then you fill
God's full cup of sacrifice to brim, and so
Come to know
God's way, act it, be it, so with God to be,
As God, free,—
Him that slays—
As the senseless waters tumble down the hill,
Will or nill,
That's the Stoic, that benumbs you, makes you slave,
As Christ gave
Freedom, life for you, so give you with good will,
Then you fill
God's full cup of sacrifice to brim, and so
Come to know
God's way, act it, be it, so with God to be,
As God, free,—
Freedom, lost once, freely yielded at God's feet,
Now more sweet,
Found again at God's feet, past the ebb and flow,
In Heaven's glow.
See, God striving with me, I would not unclasp
My heart's grasp
Till He blessed me—then I rose and stole away. ...
The next day
Made excuses—certain matters of import—
Well, in short,
That's the last I saw of her till twelve hours since.
I did wince
In the church there. How heart's embers burst to flame!
But I came
Back for that,—that last look. Ite, missa est. ...
What a rest
In the stars! The lazy wind in the close beneath
Seems to breathe
A great quiet. That's like our love, sister—ours,
Peace embowers,
Calm and tender. See the moonlight's elfish play
On the bay. ...
What a heavy scent of honeysuckle!. ... So!
Let us go.
Now more sweet,
Found again at God's feet, past the ebb and flow,
In Heaven's glow.
See, God striving with me, I would not unclasp
My heart's grasp
Till He blessed me—then I rose and stole away. ...
The next day
Made excuses—certain matters of import—
Well, in short,
That's the last I saw of her till twelve hours since.
I did wince
66
But I came
Back for that,—that last look. Ite, missa est. ...
What a rest
In the stars! The lazy wind in the close beneath
Seems to breathe
A great quiet. That's like our love, sister—ours,
Peace embowers,
Calm and tender. See the moonlight's elfish play
On the bay. ...
What a heavy scent of honeysuckle!. ... So!
Let us go.
1887
A LYRIC
Sunshine of yellow hair
And still white trust,
What doest thou in this lair
Of death and dust?
The halls where I abide
Are dusk and dour,
And fearsome lurkers hide
By arch and door.
And still white trust,
What doest thou in this lair
Of death and dust?
The halls where I abide
Are dusk and dour,
And fearsome lurkers hide
By arch and door.
67
The ruins of my heart
Are lone and grim;
There strange companions start,
Hollow and dim,
In the deserted rooms
With wan despair—
What doest thou in these glooms,
Bonny and fair?
Are lone and grim;
There strange companions start,
Hollow and dim,
In the deserted rooms
With wan despair—
What doest thou in these glooms,
Bonny and fair?
Ghosts of dead loves at night
Arise and walk;
Fear sears me like a blight
To hear them talk.
I never shall get free
Of their dead eyes.
That look they turn on me
Kills as it dies.
Arise and walk;
Fear sears me like a blight
To hear them talk.
I never shall get free
Of their dead eyes.
That look they turn on me
Kills as it dies.
Inhabit not my soul,
O dream of dawn!
The dead have me in thrall,
Will not be gone,
Haunt me by ghostly stair
And shuddering gloom!
Leave me to seek them there
From room to room.
O dream of dawn!
The dead have me in thrall,
Will not be gone,
Haunt me by ghostly stair
And shuddering gloom!
Leave me to seek them there
From room to room.
Columbia University, 1899.
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