The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti :: :: University of Virginia Library

Astonished Heaven looked on when man was made,
When fallen man reproved seemed half forgiven;
Surely that oracle of hope first said,
Astonished Heaven.

Even so while one by one lost souls are shriven,
A mighty multitude of quickened dead;
Christ's love outnumbering ten times sevenfold seven.

Even so while man still tosses high his head,
While still the All-Holy Spirit's strife is striven;—
Till one last trump shake earth, and undismayed
Astonished Heaven.

“Judge nothing before the time.”

Love understands the mystery, whereof
We can but spell a surface history:
Love knows, remembers: let us trust in Love:
Love understands the mystery.

Love weighs the event, the long pre-history,
Measures the depth beneath, the height above,
The mystery, with the ante-mystery.

To love and to be grieved befits a dove
Silently telling her bead-history:
Trust all to Love, be patient and approve:
Love understands the mystery.

[How great is little man!]

How great is little man!
Sun, moon, and stars respond to him,
Shine or grow dim
Harmonious with his span.

296

How little is great man!
More changeable than changeful moon,
Nor half in tune
With Heaven's harmonious plan.

Ah, rich man! ah, poor man!
Make ready for the testing day
When wastes away
What bears not fire or fan.

Thou heir of all things, man,
Pursue the saints by heavenward track:
They looked not back;
Run thou, as erst they ran.

Little and great is man:
Great if he will, or if he will
A pigmy still;
For what he will he can.

[Man's life is but a working day]

Man's life is but a working day
Whose tasks are set aright:
A time to work, a time to pray,
And then a quiet night.
And then, please God, a quiet night
Where palms are green and robes are white;
A long-drawn breath, a balm for sorrow,
And all things lovely on the morrow.

[If not with hope of life]

If not with hope of life,
Begin with fear of death:
Strive the tremendous life-long strife
Breath after breath.

Bleed on beneath the rod;
Weep on until thou see;
Turn fear and hope to love of God
Who loveth thee.

297

Turn all to love, poor soul;
Be love thy watch and ward;
Be love thy starting-point, thy goal,
And thy reward.

“The day is at hand.”

Watch yet a while,
Weep till that day shall dawn when thou shalt smile:
Watch till the day
When all save only Love shall pass away.

Then Love rejoicing shall forget to weep,
Shall hope or fear no more, or watch or sleep,
But only love and stint not, deep beyond deep.
Now we sow love in tears, but then shall reap.
Have patience as True Love's own flock of sheep:
Have patience with His Love
Who served for us, Who reigns for us above.

“Endure hardness.”

A cold wind stirs the blackthorn
To burgeon and to blow,
Besprinkling half-green hedges
With flakes and sprays of snow.

Thro' coldness and thro' keenness,
Dear hearts, take comfort so:
Somewhere or other doubtless
These make the blackthorn blow.

298

“Whither the Tribes go up, even the Tribes of the Lord.”

Light is our sorrow for it ends tomorrow,
Light is our death which cannot hold us fast;
So brief a sorrow can be scarcely sorrow,
Or death be death so quickly past.

One night, no more, of pain that turns to pleasure,
One night, no more, of weeping weeping sore;
And then the heaped-up measure beyond measure,
In quietness for evermore.

Our face is set like flint against our trouble,
Yet many things there are which comfort us;
This bubble is a rainbow-coloured bubble,
This bubble-life tumultuous.

Our sails are set to cross the tossing river,
Our face is set to reach Jerusalem;
We toil awhile, but then we rest for ever,
Sing with all Saints and rest with them.

[Where never tempest heaveth]

Where never tempest heaveth,
Nor sorrow grieveth,
Nor death bereaveth,
Nor hope deceiveth,
Sleep.

Where never shame bewaileth,
Nor serpent traileth,
Nor death prevaileth,
Nor harvest faileth,
Reap.

[Marvel of marvels, if I myself shall behold]

Marvel of marvels, if I myself shall behold
With mine own eyes my King in His city of gold;
Where the least of lambs is spotless white in the fold,
Where the least and last of saints in spotless white is stoled,

299

Where the dimmest head beyond a moon is aureoled.
O saints, my beloved, now mouldering to mould in the mould,
Shall I see you lift your heads, see your cerements unrolled,
See with these very eyes? who now in darkness and cold
Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the tale untold,
“The Bridegroom cometh, cometh, His Bride to enfold.”

Cold it is, my beloved, since your funeral bell was tolled:
Cold it is, O my King, how cold alone on the wold.

“What is that to thee? follow thou me.”

Lie still, my restive heart, lie still:
God's Word to thee saith, “Wait and bear.”
The good which He appoints is good,
The good which He denies were ill:
Yea, subtle comfort is thy care,
Thy hurt a help not understood.

“Friend, go up higher,” to one: to one,
“Friend, enter thou My joy,” He saith:
To one, “Be faithful unto death.”
For some a wilderness doth flower,
Or day's work in one hour is done:—
“But thou, could'st thou not watch one hour?”

Lord, I had chosen another lot,
But then I had not chosen well;
Thy choice and only Thine is good:
No different lot, search heaven or hell,
Had blessed me fully understood;
None other, which Thou orderest not.

“Worship God.”

Lord, if Thy word had been “Worship Me not,
For I than thou am holier: draw not near:”

300

We had besieged Thy Face with prayer and tear
And manifold abasement in our lot,
Our crooked ground, our thorned and thistled plot;
Envious of flawless Angels in their sphere,
Envious of brutes, and envious of the mere
Unliving and undying unbegot.
But now Thou hast said, “Worship Me, and give
Thy heart to Me, My child:” now therefore we
Think twice before we stoop to worship Thee:
We proffer half a heart while life is strong
And strung with hope; so sweet it is to live!
Wilt Thou not wait? Yea, Thou hast waited long.

“Afterward he repented, and went.”

Lord, when my heart was whole I kept it back
And grudged to give it Thee.
Now then that it is broken, must I lack
Thy kind word “Give it Me”?
Silence would be but just, and Thou art just.
Yet since I lie here shattered in the dust,
With still an eye to lift to Thee,
A broken heart to give,
I think that Thou wilt bid me live,
And answer “Give it Me.”

“Are they not all Ministering Spirits?”

Lord, whomsoever Thou shalt send to me,
Let that same be
Mine Angel predilect:
Veiled or unveiled, benignant or austere,
Aloof or near;
Thine, therefore mine, elect.

So may my soul nurse patience day by day,
Watch on and pray
Obedient and at peace;

301

Living a lonely life in hope, in faith;
Loving till death,
When life, not love, shall cease.

. . . . Lo, thou mine Angel with transfigured face
Brimful of grace,
Brimful of love for me!
Did I misdoubt thee all that weary while,
Thee with a smile
For me as I for thee?

[Our life is long. Not so, wise Angels say]

Our life is long. Not so, wise Angels say
Who watch us waste it, trembling while they weigh
Against eternity one squandered day.

Our life is long. Not so, the Saints protest,
Filled full of consolation and of rest:
“Short ill, long good, one long unending best.”

Our life is long. Christ's word sounds different:
“Night cometh: no more work when day is spent.
Repent and work today, work and repent.”

Lord, make us like Thy Host who day nor night
Rest not from adoration, their delight,
Crying “Holy, Holy, Holy,” in the height.

Lord, make us like Thy Saints who wait and long
Contented: bound in hope and freed from wrong
They speed (may be) their vigil with a song.

Lord, make us like Thyself: for thirty-three
Slow years of toil seemed not too long to Thee,
That where Thou art, there Thy Beloved might be.

[Lord, what have I to offer? sickening fear]

Lord, what have I to offer? sickening fear
And a heart-breaking loss.
Are these the cross Thou givest me? then dear
I will account this cross.

If this is all I have, accept even this
Poor priceless offering,

302

A quaking heart with all that therein is,
O Thou my thorn-crowned King.

Accept the whole, my God, accept my heart
And its own love within:
Wilt Thou accept us and not sift apart?
—Only sift out my sin.

[Joy is but sorrow]

Joy is but sorrow,
While we know
It ends tomorrow:—
Even so!
Joy with lifted veil
Shows a face as pale
As the fair changing moon so fair and frail.

Pain is but pleasure,
If we know
It heaps up treasure:—
Even so!
Turn, transfigured Pain,
Sweetheart, turn again,
For fair thou art as moonrise after rain.

[Can I know it?—Nay.—]

Can I know it?—Nay.—
Shall I know it?—Yea,
When all mists have cleared away
For ever and aye.—

Why not then today?—
Who hath said thee nay?
Lift a hopeful heart and pray
In a humble way.—

Other hearts are gay.—
Ask not joy today:
Toil today along thy way
Keeping grudge at bay.—

On a past May-day
Flowers pranked all the way;

303

Nightingales sang out their say
On a night of May.—

Dost thou covet May
On an Autumn day?
Foolish memory saith its say
Of sweets past away.—

Gone the bloom of May,
Autumn beareth bay:
Flowerless wreath for head grown grey
Seemly were today.—

Dost thou covet bay?
Ask it not today:
Rather for a palm-branch pray;
None will say thee nay.

“When my heart is vexed I will complain.”

“The fields are white to harvest, look and see,
Are white abundantly.
The full-orbed harvest moon shines clear,
The harvest time draws near,
Be of good cheer.”

“Ah, woe is me!
I have no heart for harvest time,
Grown sick with hope deferred from chime to chime.”

“But Christ can give thee heart Who loveth thee:
Can set thee in the eternal ecstasy
Of His great jubilee:
Can give thee dancing heart and shining face,
And lips filled full of grace,
And pleasures as the rivers and the sea.
Who knocketh at His door
He welcomes evermore:

304

Kneel down before
That ever-open door
(The time is short) and smite
Thy breast, and pray with all thy might.”

“What shall I say?”
“Nay, pray.
Tho' one but say ‘Thy Will be done,’
He hath not lost his day
At set of sun.”

“Praying always.”

After midnight, in the dark
The clock strikes one,
New day has begun.
Look up and hark!
With singing heart forestall the carolling lark.

After mid-day, in the light
The clock strikes one,
Day-fall has begun.
Cast up, set right
The day's account against the on-coming night.

After noon and night, one day
For ever one
Ends not, once begun.
Whither away,
O brothers and O sisters? Pause and pray.

“As thy days, so shall thy strength be.”

Day that hath no tinge of night,
Night that hath no tinge of day,
These at last will come to sight
Not to fade away.

This is twilight that we know,
Scarcely night and scarcely day;

305

This hath been from long ago
Shed around man's way:

Step by step to utter night,
Step by step to perfect day,
To the Left Hand or the Right
Leading all away.

This is twilight: be it so;
Suited to our strength our day:
Let us follow on to know,
Patient by the way.

[A heavy heart, if ever heart was heavy]

A heavy heart, if ever heart was heavy,
I offer Thee this heavy heart of me.
Are such as this the hearts Thou art fain to levy
To do and dare for Thee, to bleed for Thee?
Ah, blessed heaviness, if such they be!

Time was I bloomed with blossom and stood leafy
How long before the fruit, if fruit there be:
Lord, if by bearing fruit my heart grows heavy,
Leafless and bloomless yet accept of me
The stripped fruit-bearing heart I offer Thee.

Lifted to Thee my heart weighs not so heavy,
It leaps and lightens lifted up to Thee;
It sings, it hopes to sing amid the bevy
Of thousand thousand choirs that sing, and see
Thy Face, me loving, for Thou lovest me.

[If love is not worth loving, then life is not worth living]

If love is not worth loving, then life is not worth living,
Nor aught is worth remembering but well forgot;
For store is not worth storing and gifts are not worth giving,
If love is not;

And idly cold is death-cold, and life-heat idly hot,
And vain is any offering and vainer our receiving,
And vanity of vanities is all our lot.

306

Better than life's heaving heart is death's heart unheaving,
Better than the opening leaves are the leaves that rot,
For there is nothing left worth achieving or retrieving,
If love is not.

[What is it Jesus saith unto the soul?]

What is it Jesus saith unto the soul?
“Take up the Cross, and come and follow Me.”
One word He saith to all men: none may be
Without a cross yet hope to touch the goal.
Then heave it bravely up, and brace thy whole
Body to bear; it will not weigh on thee
Past strength; or if it crush thee to thy knee
Take heart of grace, for grace shall be thy dole.
Give thanks today, and let tomorrow take
Heed to itself; today imports thee more,
Tomorrow may not dawn like yesterday:
Until that unknown morrow go thy way,
Suffer and work and strive for Jesus' sake:—
Who tells thee what tomorrow keeps in store?

[They lie at rest, our blessed dead]

They lie at rest, our blessed dead;
The dews drop cool above their head,
They knew not when fleet summer fled.

Together all, yet each alone;
Each laid at rest beneath his own
Smooth turf or white allotted stone.

When shall our slumber sink so deep,
And eyes that wept and eyes that weep
Weep not in the sufficient sleep?

God be with you, our great and small,
Our loves, our best beloved of all,
Our own beyond the salt sea-wall.

307

“Ye that fear Him, both small and great.”

Great or small below,
Great or small above;
Be we Thine, whom Thou dost know
And love:

First or last on earth,
First or last in Heaven;
Only weighted with Thy worth,
And shriven.

Wise or ignorant,
Strong or weak; Amen;
Sifted now, cast down, in want:—
But then?

Then,—when sun nor moon,
Time nor death, finds place,
Seeing in the eternal noon
Thy Face:

Then,—when tears and sighing,
Changes, sorrows, cease;
Living by Thy Life undying
In peace:

Then,—when all creation
Keeps its jubilee,
Crowned amid Thy holy nation;
Crowned, discrowned, in adoration
Of Thee.

“Called to be Saints.”

The lowest place. Ah, Lord, how steep and high
That lowest place whereon a saint shall sit!
Which of us halting, trembling, pressing nigh,
Shall quite attain to it?

308

Yet, Lord, Thou pressest nigh to hail and grace
Some happy soul, it may be still unfit
For Right Hand or for Left Hand, but whose place
Waits there prepared for it.

[The sinner's own fault? So it was.]

The sinner's own fault? So it was.
If every own fault found us out,
Dogged us and hedged us round about,
What comfort should we take because
Not half our due we thus wrung out?

Clearly his own fault. Yet I think
My fault in part, who did not pray
But lagged and would not lead the way.
I, haply, proved his missing link.
God help us both to mend and pray.

[Who cares for earthly bread tho' white?]

Who cares for earthly bread tho' white?
Nay, heavenly sheaf of harvest corn!
Who cares for earthly crown tonight?
Nay, heavenly crown tomorrow morn!
I will not wander left or right,
The straightest road is shortest too;
And since we hold all hope in view
And triumph where is no more pain,
Tonight I bid good night to you
And bid you meet me there again.

[Laughing Life cries at the feast,—]

Laughing Life cries at the feast,—
Craving Death cries at the door,—
“Fish, or fowl, or fatted beast?”
“Come with me, thy feast it o'er.”—
“Wreathe the violets.”—“Watch them fade.”—
“I am sunshine.”—“I am shade:
I am the sun-burying west.”—
“I am pleasure.”—“I am rest:
Come with me, for I am best.”

309

“The end is not yet.”

Home by different ways. Yet all
Homeward bound thro' prayer and praise,
Young with old, and great with small,
Home by different ways.

Many nights and many days
Wind must bluster, rain must fall,
Quake the quicksand, shift the haze.

Live hath called and death will call
Saints who praying kneel at gaze,
Ford the flood or leap the wall,
Home by different ways.

[Who would wish back the Saints upon our rough]

Who would wish back the Saints upon our rough
Wearisome road?
Wish back a breathless soul
Just at the goal?
My soul, praise God
For all dear souls which have enough.

I would not fetch one back to hope with me
A hope deferred,
To taste a cup that slips
From thirsting lips:—
Hath he not heard
And seen what was to hear and see?

How could I stand to answer the rebuke
If one should say:
“O friend of little faith,
Good was my death,
And good my day
Of rest, and good the sleep I took”?

310

“That which hath been is named already, and it is known that it is Man.”

“Eye hath not seen:”—yet man hath known and weighed
A hundred thousand marvels that have been:
What is it which (the Word of Truth hath said)
Eye hath not seen?

“Ear hath not heard:”—yet harpings of delight,
Trumpets of triumph, song and spoken word,
Man knows them all: what lovelier, loftier might
Hath ear not heard?

“Nor heart conceived:”—yet man hath now desired
Beyond all reach, beyond his hope believed,
Loved beyond death: what fire shall yet be fired
No heart conceived?

“Deep calls to deep:”—man's depth would be despair
But for God's deeper depth: we sow to reap,
Have patience, wait, betake ourselves to prayer:
Deep answereth deep.

[Of each sad word which is more sorrowful]

Of each sad word which is more sorrowful,
“Sorrow” or “Disappointment”? I have heard
Subtle inflections baffling subtlest rule,
Of each sad word.

Sorrow can mourn: and lo! a mourning bird
Sings sweetly to sweet echoes of its dule,
While silent disappointment broods unstirred.

Yet both nurse hope, where Penitence keeps school
Who makes fools wise and saints of them that erred:
Wise men shape stepping stone, or curb, or tool,
Of each sad word.

311

“I see that all things come to an end.”

I.

No more! while sun and planets fly,
And wind and storm and seasons four,
And while we live and while we die,—
No more.

Nevertheless old ocean's roar,
And wide earth's multitudinous cry,
And echo's pent reverberant store

Shall hush to silence by and bye:
Ah, rosy world gone cold and hoar!
Man opes no more a mortal eye,
No more.

“But Thy Commandment is exceeding broad.”

II.

Once again to wake, nor wish to sleep;
Once again to feel, nor feel a pain!
Rouse thy soul to watch and pray and weep
Once again.

Hope afresh, for hope shall not be vain:
Start afresh along the exceeding steep
Road to glory, long and rough and plain.

Sow and reap: for while these moments creep,
Time and earth and life are on the wane:
Now, in tears; tomorrow, laugh and reap
Once again.

Sursam Corda.

“Lift up your hearts.” “We lift them up.” Ah me!
I cannot, Lord, lift up my heart to Thee:
Stoop, lift it up, that where Thou art I too may be.

312

“Give Me thy heart.” I would not say Thee nay,
But have no power to keep or give away
My heart: stoop, Lord, and take it to Thyself today.

Stoop, Lord, as once before, now once anew
Stoop, Lord, and hearken, hearken, Lord, and do,
And take my will, and take my heart, and take me too.

[O ye, who are not dead and fit]

O ye, who are not dead and fit
Like blasted tree beside the pit
But for the axe that levels it,

Living show life of love, whereof
The force wields earth and heaven above:
Who knows not love begetteth love?

Love poises earth in space, Love rolls
Wide worlds rejoicing on their poles,
And girds them round with aureoles.

Love lights the sun, Love thro' the dark
Lights the moon's evanescent arc,
Lights up the star, lights up the spark.

O ye who taste that love is sweet,
Set waymarks for all doubtful feet
That stumble on in search of it.

Sing notes of love: that some who hear
Far off inert may lend an ear,
Rise up and wonder and draw near.

Lead life of love: that others who
Behold your life, may kindle too
With love, and cast their lot with you.

[Where shall I find a white rose blowing?—]

Where shall I find a white rose blowing?—
Out in the garden where all sweets be.—
But out in my garden the snow was snowing
And never a white rose opened for me.
Nought but snow and a wind were blowing
And snowing.

313

Where shall I find a blush rose blushing?—
On the garden wall or the garden bed.—
But out in my garden the rain was rushing
And never a blush rose raised its head.
Nothing glowing, flushing or blushing:
Rain rushing.

Where shall I find a red rose budding?—
Out in the garden where all things grow.—
But out in my garden a flood was flooding
And never a red rose began to blow.
Out in a flooding what should be budding?
All flooding!

Now is winter and now is sorrow,
No roses but only thorns today:
Thorns will put on roses tomorrow,
Winter and sorrow scudding away.
No more winter and no more sorrow
Tomorrow.

“Redeeming the Time.”

A life of hope deferred too often is
A life of wasted opportunities;
A life of perished hope too often is
A life of all-lost opportunities:
Yet hope is but the flower and not the root,
And hope is still the flower and not the fruit;—
Arise and sow and weed: a day shall come
When also thou shalt keep thy harvest home.

“Now they desire a Better Country.”

Love said nay, while Hope kept saying
All his sweetest say,
Hope so keen to start a-maying!—
Love said nay.

314

Love was bent to watch and pray;
Long the watching, long the praying;
Hope grew drowsy, pale and grey.

Hope in dreams set off a-straying,
All his dream-world flushed by May;
While unslumbering, praying, weighing,
Love said nay.

A CASTLE-BUILDER'S WORLD.

“The line of confusion, and the stones of emptiness.”

Unripe harvest there hath none to reap it
From the misty gusty place,
Unripe vineyard there hath none to keep it
In unprofitable space.
Living men and women are not found there,
Only masks in flocks and shoals;
Flesh-and-bloodless hazy masks surround there,
Ever wavering orbs and poles;
Flesh-and-bloodless vapid masks abound there,
Shades of bodies without souls.

“These all wait upon Thee.”

Innocent eyes not ours
Are made to look on flowers,
Eyes of small birds and insects small:
Morn after summer morn
The sweet rose on her thorn
Opens her bosom to them all.
The least and last of things
That soar on quivering wings,
Or crawl among the grass blades out of sight,
Have just as clear a right
To their appointed portion of delight
As Queens or Kings.

315

“Doeth well . . . doeth better.”

My love whose heart is tender said to me,
“A moon lacks light except her sun befriend her.
Let us keep tryst in heaven, dear Friend,” said she,
My love whose heart is tender.

From such a loftiness no words could bend her:
Yet still she spoke of “us” and spoke as “we,”
Her hope substantial, while my hope grew slender.

Now keeps she tryst beyond earth's utmost sea,
Wholly at rest, tho' storms should toss and rend her;
And still she keeps my heart and keeps its key,
My love whose heart is tender.

[Our heaven must be within ourselves]

Our heaven must be within ourselves,
Our home and heaven the work of faith
All thro' this race of life which shelves
Downward to death.

So faith shall build the boundary wall,
And hope shall plant the secret bower,
That both may show magnifical
With gem and flower.

While over all a dome must spread,
And love shall be that dome above;
And deep foundations must be laid,
And these are love.

“Vanity of Vanities.”

Of all the downfalls in the world,
The flutter of an Autumn leaf
Grows grievous by suggesting grief:
Who thought, when Spring was first unfurled,
Of this? The wide world lay empearled;
Who thought of frost that nips the world?
Sigh on, my ditty.

316

There lurk a hundred subtle stings
To prick us in our daily walk:
An apple cankered on its stalk,
A robin snared for all his wings,
A voice that sang but never sings;
Yea, sight or sound or silence stings.
Kind Lord, show pity.

[The hills are tipped with sunshine, while I walk]

The hills are tipped with sunshine, while I walk
In shadows dim and cold:
The unawakened rose sleeps on her stalk
In a bud's fold,
Until the sun flood all the world with gold.

The hills are crowned with glory, and the glow
Flows widening down apace:
Unto the sunny hill-tops I, set low,
Lift a tired face,—
Ah, happy rose, content to wait for grace!

How tired a face, how tired a brain, how tired
A heart I lift, who long
For something never felt but still desired;
Sunshine and song,
Song where the choirs of sunny heaven stand choired.

[Scarce tolerable life, which all life long]

Scarce tolerable life, which all life long
Is dominated by one dread of death;
Is such life, life? if so, who pondereth
May call salt sweetness or call discord song.
Ah me, this solitude where swarms a throng!
Life slowly grows and dwindles breath by breath:
Death slowly grows on us; no word it saith,
Its cords all lengthened and its pillars strong.
Life dies apace, a life that but deceives:
Death reigns as tho' it lived, and yet is dead:
Where is the life that dies not but that lives?
The sweet long life, immortal, ever young,

317

True life that wooes us with a silver tongue
Of hope, much said and much more left unsaid.

[All heaven is blazing yet]

All heaven is blazing yet
With the meridian sun:
Make haste, unshadowing sun, make haste to set;
O lifeless life, have done.
I choose what once I chose;
What once I willed, I will:
Only the heart its own bereavement knows;
O clamorous heart, lie still.

That which I chose, I choose;
That which I willed, I will;
That which I once refused, I still refuse:
O hope deferred, be still.
That which I chose and choose
And will is Jesus' Will:
He hath not lost his life who seems to lose:
O hope deferred, hope still.

“Balm in Gilead.”

Heartsease I found, where Love-lies-bleeding
Empurpled all the ground:
Whatever flowers I missed unheeding,
Heartsease I found.

Yet still my garden mound
Stood sore in need of watering, weeding,
And binding growths unbound.

Ah, when shades fell to light succeeding
I scarcely dared look round:
“Love-lies-bleeding” was all my pleading,
Heartsease I found.

318

“In the day of his Espousals.”

That Song of Songs which is Solomon's
Sinks and rises, and loves and longs,
Thro' temperate zones and torrid zones,
That Song of Songs.

Fair its floating moon with her prongs:
Love is laid for its paving stones:
Right it sings without thought of wrongs.

Doves it hath with music of moans,
Queens in throngs and damsels in throngs,
High tones and mysterious undertones,
That Song of Songs.

“She came from the uttermost part of the earth.”

“The half was not told me,” said Sheba's Queen,
Weighing that wealth of wisdom and of gold:
“Thy fame falls short of this that I have seen:
The half was not told.

“Happy thy servants who stand to behold,
Stand to drink in thy gracious speech and mien;
Happy, thrice happy, the flock of thy fold.

“As the darkened moon while a shadow between
Her face and her kindling sun is rolled,
I depart; but my heart keeps memory green:
The half was not told.”

[Alleluia! or Alas! my heart is crying]

Alleluia! or Alas! my heart is crying:
So yours is sighing;
Or replying with content undying,
Alleluia!

Alas! grieves overmuch for pain that is ending,
Hurt that is mending,
Life descending soon to be ascending,
Alleluia!

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[The Passion Flower hath sprung up tall]

The Passion Flower hath sprung up tall,
Hath east and west its arms outspread;
The heliotrope shoots up its head
To clear the shadow of the wall:
Down looks the Passion Flower,
The heliotrope looks upward still,
Hour by hour
On the heavenward hill.

The Passion Flower blooms red or white,
A shadowed white, a cloudless red;
Caressingly it droops its head,
Its leaves, its tendrils, from the light:
Because that lowlier flower
Looks up, but mounts not half so high,
Hour by hour
Tending toward the sky.

God's Acre.

Hail, garden of confident hope!
Where sweet seeds are quickening in darkness and cold;
For how sweet and how young will they be
When they pierce thro' the mould.
Balm, myrtle, and heliotrope
There watch and there wait out of sight for their Sun:
While the Sun, which they see not, doth see
Each and all one by one.

“The Flowers appear on the Earth.”

Young girls wear flowers,
Young brides a flowery wreath,
But next we plant them
In garden plots of death.
Whose lot is best:

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The maiden's curtained rest,
Or bride's whose hoped-for sweet
May yet outstrip her feet?
Ah! what are such as these
To death's sufficing ease?
He sleeps indeed who sleeps in peace
Where night and morning meet.

Dear are the blossoms
For bride's or maiden's head,
But dearer planted
Around our blessed dead.
Those mind us of decay
And joys that fade away,
These preach to us perfection,
Long love and resurrection.
We make our graveyards fair,
For spirit-like birds of air,
For Angels may be finding there
Lost Eden's own delection.

“Thou knewest . . . thou oughtest therefore.”

Behold in heaven a floating dazzling cloud,
So dazzling that I could but cry Alas!
Alas, because I felt how low I was;
Alas, within my spirit if not aloud,
Foreviewing my last breathless bed and shroud:
Thus pondering, I glanced downward on the grass;
And the grass bowed when airs of heaven would pass,
Lifting itself again when it had bowed.
That grass spake comfort; weak it was and low,
Yet strong enough and high enough to bend
In homage at a message from the sky:
As the grass did and prospered, so will I;
Tho' knowing little, doing what I know,
And strong in patient weakness till the end.

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“Go in Peace.”

Can peach renew lost bloom,
Or violet lost perfume,
Or sullied snow turn white as overnight?
Man cannot compass it, yet never fear:
The leper Naaman
Shows what God will and can;
God Who worked there is working here;
Wherefore let shame, not gloom, betinge thy brow,
God Who worked then is working now.

“Half dead.”

O Christ the Life, look on me where I lie
Ready to die:
O Good Samaritan, nay, pass not by.

O Christ, my Life, pour in Thine oil and wine
To keep me Thine;
Me ever Thine, and Thee for ever mine.

Watch by Thy saints and sinners, watch by all
Thy great and small:
Once Thou didst call us all,—O Lord, recall.

Think how Thy saints love sinners, how they pray
And hope alway,
And thereby grow more like Thee day by day.

O Saint of saints, if those with prayer and vow
Succour us now. . . .
It was not they died for us, it was Thou.

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“One of the Soldiers with a Spear pierced His Side.”

Ah, Lord, we all have pierced Thee: wilt Thou be
Wroth with us all to slay us all?
Nay, Lord, be this thing far from Thee and me:
By whom should we arise, for we are small,
By whom if not by Thee?

Lord, if of us who pierced Thee Thou spare one,
Spare yet one more to love Thy Face,
And yet another of poor souls undone,
Another, and another—God of grace,
Let mercy overrun.

[Where love is, there comes sorrow]

Where love is, there comes sorrow
Today or else tomorrow:
Endure the mood,
Love only means our good.

Where love is, there comes pleasure
With or withouten measure,
Early or late
Cheering the sorriest state.

Where love is, all perfection
Is stored for heart's delection;
For where love is
Dwells every sort of bliss.

Who would not choose a sorrow
Love's self will cheer tomorrow?
One day of sorrow,
Then such a long tomorrow!

[Bury Hope out of sight]

Bury Hope out of sight,
No book for it and no bell;
It never could bear the light
Even while growing and well:
Think if now it could bear

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The light on its face of care
And grey scattered hair.

No grave for Hope in the earth,
But deep in that silent soul
Which rang no bell for its birth
And rings no funeral toll.
Cover its once bright head;
Nor odours nor tears be shed:
It lived once, it is dead.

Brief was the day of its power,
The day of its grace how brief:
As the fading of a flower,
As the falling of a leaf,
So brief its day and its hour;
No bud more and no bower
Or hint of a flower.

Shall many wail it? not so:
Shall one bewail it? not one:
Thus it hath been from long ago,
Thus it shall be beneath the sun.
O fleet sun, make haste to flee;
O rivers, fill up the sea;
O Death, set the dying free.

The sun nor loiters nor speeds,
The rivers run as they ran,
Thro' clouds or thro' windy reeds
All run as when all began.
Only Death turns at our cries:—
Lo, the Hope we buried with sighs
Alive in Death's eyes!

A Churchyard Song of Patient Hope.

All tears done away with the bitter unquiet sea,
Death done away from among the living at last,
Man shall say of sorrow—Love grant it to thee and me!—
At last, “It is past.”

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Shall I say of pain, “It is past,” nor say it with thee,
Thou heart of my heart, thou soul of my soul, my Friend?
Shalt thou say of pain, “It is past,” nor say it with me
Beloved to the end?

[One woe is past. Come what come will]

One woe is past. Come what come will
Thus much is ended and made fast:
Two woes may overhang us still;
One woe is past.

As flowers when winter puffs its last
Wake in the vale, trail up the hill,
Nor wait for skies to overcast;

So meek souls rally from the chill
Of pain and fear and poisonous blast,
To lift their heads: come good, come ill,
One woe is past.

“Take no thought for the morrow.”

Who knows? God knows: and what He knows
Is well and best.
The darkness hideth not from Him, but glows
Clear as the morning or the evening rose
Of east or west.

Wherefore man's strength is to sit still:
Not wasting care
To antedate tomorrow's good or ill;
Yet watching meekly, watching with good will,
Watching to prayer.

Some rising or some setting ray
From east or west,
If not today, why then another day
Will light each dove upon the homeward way
Safe to her nest.

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“Consider the Lilies of the field.”

Solomon most glorious in array
Put not on his glories without care:—
Clothe us as Thy lilies of a day,
As the lilies Thou accountest fair,
Lilies of Thy making,
Of Thy love partaking,
Filling with free fragrance earth and air:
Thou Who gatherest lilies, gather us and wear.

“Son, remember.”

I laid beside thy gate, am Lazarus;
See me or see me not I still am there,
Hungry and thirsty, sore and sick and bare,
Dog-comforted and crumbs-solicitous:
While thou in all thy ways art sumptuous,
Daintily clothed, with dainties for thy fare:
Thus a world's wonder thou art quit of care,
And be I seen or not seen I am thus.
One day a worm for thee, a worm for me:
With my worm angel songs and trumpet burst
And plenitude an end of all desire:
But what for thee, alas! but what for thee?
Fire and an unextinguishable thirst,
Thirst in an unextinguishable fire.

“Heaviness may endure for a night, but Joy cometh in the morning.”

No thing is great on this side of the grave,
Nor any thing of any stable worth:
Whatso is born from earth returns to earth:
No thing we grasp proves half the thing we crave:

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The tidal wave shrinks to the ebbing wave:
Laughter is folly, madness lurks in mirth:
Mankind sets off a-dying from the birth:
Life is a losing game, with what to save?
Thus I sat mourning like a mournful owl,
And like a doleful dragon made ado,
Companion of all monsters of the dark:
When lo! the light cast off its nightly cowl,
And up to heaven flashed a carolling lark,
And all creation sang its hymn anew.

While all creation sang its hymn anew
What could I do but sing a stave in tune?
Spectral on high hung pale the vanishing moon
Where a last gleam of stars hung paling too.
Lark's lay—a cockcrow—with a scattered few
Soft early chirpings—with a tender croon
Of doves—a hundred thousand calls, and soon
A hundred thousand answers sweet and true.
These set me singing too at unawares:
One note for all delights and charities,
One note for hope reviving with the light,
One note for every lovely thing that is;
Till while I sang my heart shook off its cares
And revelled in the land of no more night.

“The Will of the Lord be done.”

O Lord, fulfil Thy Will
Be the days few or many, good or ill:
Prolong them, to suffice
For offering up ourselves Thy sacrifice;
Shorten them if Thou wilt,
To make in righteousness an end of guilt.
Yea, they will not be long
To souls who learn to sing a patient song;
Yea, short they will not be

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To souls on tiptoe to flee home to Thee.
O Lord, fulfil Thy Will:
Make Thy Will ours, and keep us patient still
Be the days few or many, good or ill.

“Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven.”

Treasure plies a feather,
Pleasure spreadeth wings,
Taking flight together,—
Ah! my cherished things.

Fly away, poor pleasure,
That art so brief a thing:
Fly away, poor treasure,
That hast so swift a wing.

Pleasure, to be pleasure,
Must come without a wing:
Treasure, to be treasure,
Must be a stable thing.

Treasure without feather,
Pleasure without wings,
Elsewhere dwell together
And are heavenly things.

“Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth.”

“One sorrow more? I thought the tale complete.”—
He bore amiss who grudges what he bore:
Stretch out thy hands and urge thy feet to meet
One sorrow more.

Yea, make thy count for two or three or four:
The kind Physician will not slack to treat
His patient while there's rankling in the sore.

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Bear up in anguish, ease will yet be sweet;
Bear up all day, for night has rest in store:
Christ bears thy burden with thee, rise and greet
One sorrow more.

“Then shall ye shout.”

It seems an easy thing
Mayhap one day to sing
Yet the next day
We cannot sing or say.

Keep silence with good heart,
While silence fits our part:
Another day
We shall both sing and say.

Keep silence, counting time
To strike in at the chime:
Prepare to sound,—
Our part is coming round.

Can we not sing or say?
In silence let us pray,
And meditate
Our love-song while we wait.

[Everything that is born must die]

Everything that is born must die;
Everything that can sigh may sing;
Rocks in equal balance, low or high,
Everything.

Honeycomb is weighed against a sting;
Hope and fear take turns to touch the sky;
Height and depth respond alternating.

O my soul, spread wings of love to fly,
Wings of dove that soars on home-bound wing:
Love trusts Love, till Love shall justify
Everything.

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[Lord, grant us calm, if calm can set forth Thee]

Lord, grant us calm, if calm can set forth Thee;
Or tempest, if a tempest set Thee forth;
Wind from the east or west or south or north,
Or congelation of a silent sea,
With stillness of each tremulous aspen tree.

Still let fruit fall, or hang upon the tree;
Still let the east and west, the south and north,
Curb in their winds, or plough a thundering sea;
Still let the earth abide to set Thee forth,
Or vanish like a smoke to set forth Thee.

Changing Chimes.

It was not warning that our fathers lacked,
It is not warning that we lack today.
The Voice that cried still cries: “Rise up and act:
Watch alway,—watch and pray,—watch alway,—
All men.”

Alas, if aught was lacked goodwill was lacked;
Alas, goodwill is what we lack today.
O gracious Voice, grant grace that all may act,
Watch and act,—watch and pray,—watch alway.—
Amen.

“Thy Servant will go and fight with this Philistine.”

Sorrow of saints is sorrow of a day,
Gladness of saints is gladness evermore:
Send on thy hope, send on thy will before
To chant God's praise along the narrow way.
Stir up His praises if the flesh would sway,
Exalt His praises if the world press sore,
Peal out His praises if black Satan roar
A hundred thousand lies to say them nay.

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Devil and Death and Hades, threefold cord
Not quickly broken, front thee to thy face;
Front thou them with a face of tenfold flint:
Shout for the battle, David! never stint
Body or breath or blood, but proof in grace
Die for thy Lord, as once for thee thy Lord.

[Thro' burden and heat of the day]

Thro' burden and heat of the day
How weary the hands and the feet
That labour with scarcely a stay,
Thro' burden and heat!

Tired toiler whose sleep shall be sweet,
Kneel down, it will rest thee to pray:
Then forward, for daylight is fleet.

Cool shadows show lengthening and grey,
Cool twilight will soon be complete:
What matters this wearisome way
Thro' burden and heat?

“Then I commended Mirth.”

“A merry heart is a continual feast.”
Then take we life and all things in good part:
To fast grows festive while we keep at least
A merry heart

Well pleased with nature and well pleased with art;
A merry heart makes cheer for man and beast,
And fancies music in a creaking cart.

Some day, a restful heart whose toils have ceased,
A heavenly heart gone home from earthly mart:
Today, blow wind from west or wind from east,
A merry heart.

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Sorrow hath a double voice,
Sharp today but sweet tomorrow:
Wait in patience, hope, rejoice,
Tried friends of sorrow.

Pleasure hath a double taste,
Sweet today but sharp tomorrow:
Friends of pleasure, rise in haste,
Make friends with sorrow.

Pleasure set aside today
Comes again to rule tomorrow:
Welcomed sorrow will not stay,
Farewell to sorrow!

[Shadows today, while shadows show God's Will.]

Shadows today, while shadows show God's Will.
Light were not good except He sent us light.
Shadows today, because this day is night
Whose marvels and whose mysteries fulfil
Their course and deep in darkness serve Him still.
Thou dim aurora, on the extremest height
Of airy summits wax not over-bright;
Refrain thy rose, refrain thy daffodil.
Until God's Word go forth to kindle thee
And garland thee and bid thee stoop to us,
Blush in the heavenly choirs and glance not down:
Today we race in darkness for a crown,
In darkness for beatitude to be,
In darkness for the city luminous.

“Truly the Light is sweet.”

Light colourless doth colour all things else:
Where light dwells pleasure dwells
And peace excels.
Then rise and shine,
Thou shadowed soul of mine,
And let a cheerful rainbow make thee fine.

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Light, fountain of all beauty and delight,
Leads day forth from the night,
Turns blackness white.
Light waits for thee
Where all have eyes to see:
Oh, well is thee, and happy shalt thou be!

“Are ye not much better than they?”

The twig sprouteth,
The moth outeth,
The plant springeth,
The bird singeth:
Tho' little we sing today
Yet are we better than they;
Tho' growing with scarce a showing,
Yet, please God, we are growing.

The twig teacheth,
The moth preacheth,
The plant vaunteth,
The bird chanteth,
God's mercy overflowing
Merciful past man's knowing.
Please God to keep us growing
Till the awful day of mowing.

“Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house.”

Wisest of sparrows that sparrow which sitteth alone
Perched on the housetop, its own upper chamber, for nest;
Wisest of swallows that swallow which timely has flown
Over the turbulent sea to the land of its rest:
Wisest of sparrows and swallows, if I were as wise!

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Wisest of spirits that spirit which dwelleth apart
Hid in the Presence of God for a chapel and nest,
Sending a wish and a will and a passionate heart
Over the eddy of life to that Presence in rest:
Seated alone and in peace till God bids it arise.

“I am small and of no reputation.”

The least, if so I am;
If so, less than the least,
May I reach heaven to glorify the Lamb
And sit down at the Feast.

I fear and I am small,
Whence am I of good cheer;
For I who hear Thy call, have heard Thee call
To Thee the small who fear.

[O Christ my God Who seest the unseen]

O Christ my God Who seest the unseen,
O Christ my God Who knowest the unknown,
Thy mighty Blood was poured forth to atone
For every sin that can be or hath been.

O Thou Who seest what I cannot see,
Thou Who didst love us all so long ago,
O Thou Who knowest what I must not know,
Remember all my hope, remember me.

[Yea, if Thou wilt, Thou canst put up Thy sword]

Yea, if Thou wilt, Thou canst put up Thy sword;
But what if Thou shouldst sheathe it to the hilt
Within the heart that sues to Thee, O Lord?
Yea, if Thou wilt.

For if Thou wilt Thou canst purge out the guilt
Of all, of any, even the most abhorred:
Thou canst pluck down, rebuild, build up the unbuilt.

Who wanders, canst Thou gather by love's cord?
Who sinks, uplift from the under-sucking silt

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To set him on Thy rock within Thy ward?
Yea, if Thou wilt.

[Sweetness of rest when Thou sheddest rest]

Sweetness of rest when Thou sheddest rest,
Sweetness of patience till then;
Only the Will of our God is best
For all the millions of men.

For all the millions on earth today,
On earth and under the earth;
Waiting for earth to vanish away,
Waiting to come to the birth.

[O foolish Soul! to make thy count]

O foolish Soul! to make thy count
For languid falls and much forgiven,
When like a flame thou mightest mount
To storm and carry heaven.

A life so faint,—is this to live?
A goal so mean,—is this a goal?
Christ love thee, remedy, forgive,
Save thee, O foolish Soul.

[Before the beginning Thou hast foreknown the end]

Before the beginning Thou hast foreknown the end,
Before the birthday the death-bed was seen of Thee:
Cleanse what I cannot cleanse, mend what I cannot mend,
O Lord All-Merciful, be merciful to me.

While the end is drawing near I know not mine end;
Birth I recall not, my death I cannot foresee:
O God, arise to defend, arise to befriend,
O Lord All-Merciful, be merciful to me.

[The goal in sight! Look up and sing]

The goal in sight! Look up and sing,
Set faces full against the light,
Welcome with rapturous welcoming
The goal in sight.

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Let be the left, let be the right:
Straight forward make your footsteps ring
A loud alarum thro' the night.

Death hunts you, yea, but reft of sting;
Your bed is green, your shroud is white:
Hail! Life and Death and all that bring
The goal in sight.

[Looking back along life's trodden way]

Looking back along life's trodden way
Gleams and greenness linger on the track;
Distance melts and mellows all today,
Looking back.

Rose and purple and a silvery grey,
Is that cloud the cloud we called so black?
Evening harmonizes all today,
Looking back.

Foolish feet so prone to halt or stray,
Foolish heart so restive on the rack!
Yesterday we sighed, but not today
Looking back.