 | Poems |  |
3
THE DESTROYER
With care, and skill, and cunning artShe parried Time's malicious dart,
And kept the years at bay,
Till passion entered in her heart
And aged her in a day!
9
MOON AND SEA
You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:The tide of hope swells high within my breast,
And hides the rough dark rockes of life's unrest
When your fond eyes smile near in perigee.
But when that loving face is turned from me,
Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear,
And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear.
You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.
15
A LOVER'S QUARREL
We two were lovers, the Sea and I;
We plighted our troth 'neath a summer sky.
We plighted our troth 'neath a summer sky.
And all through the riotous, ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
At times my lover would rage and storm.
I said: ‘No matter, his heart is warm.’
I said: ‘No matter, his heart is warm.’
Whatever his humour, I loved his ways,
And so we lived through the golden days.
And so we lived through the golden days.
I know not the manner it came about,
But in the autumn we two fell out.
But in the autumn we two fell out.
Yet this I know—'twas the fault of the Sea,
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.
I lingered as long as a woman may
To find what her lover will do or say.
To find what her lover will do or say.
But he met my smiles with a sullen frown,
And so I turned to the wooing Town.
And so I turned to the wooing Town.
Oh, bold was this suitor, and blithe as bold!
His look was as bright as the Sea's was cold.
His look was as bright as the Sea's was cold.
As the Sea was sullen, the Town was gay;
He made me forget for a winter day.
He made me forget for a winter day.
16
For a winter day and a winter night
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.
And yet, in spite of his mirth and cheer,
I knew full well he was insincere.
I knew full well he was insincere.
And when the young buds burst on the tree,
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.
Pride was forgotten—I knew, I knew,
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.
I heard him calling, and lo! I came,
To find him waiting, for ever the same.
To find him waiting, for ever the same.
And when he saw me, with murmurs sweet
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.
And so again 'neath a summer sky
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
REPLY TO RUDYARD KIPLING'S POEM ‘He travels the fastest who travels alone.’
Who travels alone with his eye on the heights,
Though he laughs in the daytime, oft weeps through the nights;
For courage goes down with the set of the sun,
When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.
He speeds but to grief, though full gaily he ride,
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
Though he laughs in the daytime, oft weeps through the nights;
For courage goes down with the set of the sun,
When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.
He speeds but to grief, though full gaily he ride,
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
17
Who travels alone, without lover or friend,
But hurries from nothing, to nought at the end;
Though great be his winnings, and high be his goal,
He is bankrupt in wisdom, and beggared in soul.
Life's one gift of value to him is denied
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
But hurries from nothing, to nought at the end;
Though great be his winnings, and high be his goal,
He is bankrupt in wisdom, and beggared in soul.
Life's one gift of value to him is denied
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
It is easy enough in this world to make haste
If we live for that purpose; but think of the waste!
For life is a poem to leisurely read,
And the joy of a journey lies not in its speed.
Oh! vain his achievement, and petty his pride,
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
If we live for that purpose; but think of the waste!
For life is a poem to leisurely read,
And the joy of a journey lies not in its speed.
Oh! vain his achievement, and petty his pride,
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
98
SONNET
Methinks ofttimes my heart is like some beeThat goes forth through the summer day and sings,
And gathers honey from all growing things
In garden plot, or on the clover lea.
When the long afternoon grows late, and she
Would seek her hive, she cannot lift her wings,
So heavily the too sweet burden clings,
From which she would not, and yet would, fly free.
So with my full fond heart; for when it tries
To lift itself to peace-crowned heights, above
The common way where countless feet have trod.
Lo! then, this burden of dear human ties,
This growing weight of precious earthly love,
Binds down the spirit that would soar to God.
99
LET ME LEAN HARD
Let me lean hard upon the Eternal Breast;
In all earth's devious ways, I sought for rest
And found it not. I will be strong, said I,
And lean upon myself. I will not cry
And importune all heaven with my complaint,
But not my strength fails, and I fall, I faint:
Let me lean hard.
In all earth's devious ways, I sought for rest
And found it not. I will be strong, said I,
And lean upon myself. I will not cry
And importune all heaven with my complaint,
But not my strength fails, and I fall, I faint:
Let me lean hard.
Let me lean hard upon the unfailing Arm.
I said I will walk on, I fear no harm,
The spark divine within my soul will show
The upward pathway where my feet should go,
But now the heights to which I msot aspire
Are lost in clouds. I stumble and I tire;
Let me lean hard.
I said I will walk on, I fear no harm,
The spark divine within my soul will show
The upward pathway where my feet should go,
But now the heights to which I msot aspire
Are lost in clouds. I stumble and I tire;
Let me lean hard.
Let me lean harder yet. That swerveless force
Which speeds the solar systems on their course
Can take, unfelt, the burden of my woe,
Which bears me to the dust and hurts me so;
I thought my strength enough for any fate,
But lo! I sink beneath my sorrow's weight:
Let me lean hard.
Which speeds the solar systems on their course
Can take, unfelt, the burden of my woe,
Which bears me to the dust and hurts me so;
I thought my strength enough for any fate,
But lo! I sink beneath my sorrow's weight:
Let me lean hard.
114
POVERTY AND WEALTH
The stork flew over a town one day,And back of each wing an infant lay;
One to a rich man's home he brought,
And one he left at a labourer's cot.
The rich man said, ‘My son shall be
A lordly ruler o'er land and sea.’
115
That I have another mouth to fill.’
The rich man's son grew strong and fair,
And proud with the pride of a millionaire:
His motto in life was, ‘Live while you may,’
And he crowded years in a single day.
He bought position and name and place,
And he bought him a wife with a handsome face.
He journeyed over the whole wide world,
But discontent in his heart lay curled
Like a serpent hidden in leaves and moss,
And life seemed hollow and gold was dross.
He scoffed at woman, and doubted God,
And died like a beast and went back to the sod.
The son of the labourer tilled the soil,
And thanked God daily for health and toil.
He wedded for love in his youthful prime,
And two lives chorded in tune and time.
His wants were simple, and simple his creed,
To trust God fully: it served his need,
And lightened his labour,a nd helped him to die
With a smile on his lips and a hope in his eye.
When all is over and all is done,
Now which of these men was the richer one?
130
DEATH OF LABOUR
Methought a great wind swept across the earth,And all the toilers perished. Then I saw
Pale terror blanch the rosy face of mirth,
And careless eyes grow full of fear and awe.
The sounds of pleasure ceased; the laughing song
On folly's lip changed to an angry cures:
A nameless horror seized the idle throng,
And death and ruin filled the universe.
PROGRESS
In its giving and its getting,
In its smiling and its fretting,
In its peaceful years of toiling
And its awful days of war,
Ever on the world is moving,
And all human life is proving
It is reaching toward the purpose
That the great God meant it for.
In its smiling and its fretting,
In its peaceful years of toiling
And its awful days of war,
Ever on the world is moving,
And all human life is proving
It is reaching toward the purpose
That the great God meant it for.
Through its laughing and its weeping,
Through its losing and its keeping,
Through its follies and its labours,
Weaving in and out of sight
To the end from the beginning,
Through all virtue and all sinning,
Reeled from God's great spool of Progress,
Runs the golden thread of Right.
Through its losing and its keeping,
Through its follies and its labours,
Weaving in and out of sight
131
Through all virtue and all sinning,
Reeled from God's great spool of Progress,
Runs the golden thread of Right.
All the darkness and the errors,
All the sorrows and the terrors,
Time has painted in the background
On the canvas of the World.
All the beauty of life's story
He will do in tones of glory
When these final blots of shadow
From his brushes have been hurled.
All the sorrows and the terrors,
Time has painted in the background
On the canvas of the World.
All the beauty of life's story
He will do in tones of glory
When these final blots of shadow
From his brushes have been hurled.
310
OVER THE MAY HILL
All through the night time, and all through the day time,
Dreading the morning and dreading the night,
Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time
Season of beauty and season of blight,
Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,
Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,
Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,
Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.
Dreading the morning and dreading the night,
Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time
Season of beauty and season of blight,
Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,
Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,
Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,
Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.
311
Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are cheery,
Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,
Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary—
Too well I know what that weariness means.
But how could I know in the crisp winter weather
(Though sometimes I notices a catch in your breath),
Riding and singing and dancing together,
How could I know you were racing with death?
Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,
Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary—
Too well I know what that weariness means.
But how could I know in the crisp winter weather
(Though sometimes I notices a catch in your breath),
Riding and singing and dancing together,
How could I know you were racing with death?
How could I know when we danced until morning,
And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd—
With only that shortness of breath for a warning,
How could I know that you danced for a shroud?
Whirling and whirling through moonlight and star-light,
Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,
Down in your eyes shone a deep light—a far light,
How could I know 'twas the light to your grave?
And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd—
With only that shortness of breath for a warning,
How could I know that you danced for a shroud?
Whirling and whirling through moonlight and star-light,
Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,
Down in your eyes shone a deep light—a far light,
How could I know 'twas the light to your grave?
Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing,
Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,
Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing,
‘Over the May hill’ is waiting your tomb.
The season of mirth and of music is over—
I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song,
Under the violets, under the clover,
My heart and my love will be lying ere long.
Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,
Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing,
‘Over the May hill’ is waiting your tomb.
The season of mirth and of music is over—
I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song,
Under the violets, under the clover,
My heart and my love will be lying ere long.
113
FRIENDSHIP
Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving
Thy strong regard for me,
Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving;
Let thy faith speak for thee.
Thy strong regard for me,
Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving;
Let thy faith speak for thee.
Swear not to me that nothing can divide us—
So little such oaths mean.
But when distrust and envy creep beside us
Let them not come between.
So little such oaths mean.
But when distrust and envy creep beside us
Let them not come between.
Say not to me the depths of thy devotion
Are deeper than the sea;
But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion
Embitter them for me.
Are deeper than the sea;
But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion
Embitter them for me.
Vow not to love me ever and for ever,
Words are such idle things;
But when we differ in opinions, never
Hurt me by little stings.
Words are such idle things;
But when we differ in opinions, never
Hurt me by little stings.
I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken,
And spoken, are but air.
I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken
Than list thy words so fair.
And spoken, are but air.
I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken
Than list thy words so fair.
If all the little proofs of trust are heeded,
It thou are always kind,
No sacrifice, no promise will be needed
To satisfy my mind.
It thou are always kind,
No sacrifice, no promise will be needed
To satisfy my mind.
324
RIVER AND SEA
We stood by the river that swept
In its glory and grandeur away;
But never a pulse o' me leapt,
And you wondered at me that day.
In its glory and grandeur away;
But never a pulse o' me leapt,
And you wondered at me that day.
We stood by the lake as it lay
With its dimpled face turned to the light;
Was it strange I had nothing to say
To so fair and enchanting a sight?
With its dimpled face turned to the light;
Was it strange I had nothing to say
To so fair and enchanting a sight?
I look on your tresses of gold—
You are fair and a thing to be loved—
Do you think I am heartless and cold
That I look and am wholly unmoved?
You are fair and a thing to be loved—
Do you think I am heartless and cold
That I look and am wholly unmoved?
One answer, dear friend, I will make
To the questions your eyes ask of me:
‘Talk not of the river or lake
To those who have looked on the sea.’
To the questions your eyes ask of me:
‘Talk not of the river or lake
To those who have looked on the sea.’
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