 | Song-bloom |  |
1
DEDICATION.
I sang ten years ago: I sing to-day:
And through the intervening years my song
Has surged round chiming shores with wavelets strong
And ripples soft of many a passionate lay.
Lady, whose sweet kiss through the weary way
Hath helped me, lifted me when morns were long,
Nights dreary,—take these fancies as they throng,
Flowerbuds that chide my hair's unlyric grey.
And through the intervening years my song
Has surged round chiming shores with wavelets strong
And ripples soft of many a passionate lay.
Lady, whose sweet kiss through the weary way
Hath helped me, lifted me when morns were long,
Nights dreary,—take these fancies as they throng,
Flowerbuds that chide my hair's unlyric grey.
Thou art ever with me; we can see the sun
Now rising on the further side death's stream,
And, perhaps, our larger half of toil is done,
Our larger sorrows suffered,—and our dream
Of perfect love waits burning to be won
Hard by the deep dim waves that closelier gleam.
Now rising on the further side death's stream,
And, perhaps, our larger half of toil is done,
Our larger sorrows suffered,—and our dream
Of perfect love waits burning to be won
Hard by the deep dim waves that closelier gleam.
August 31, 1880.
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THE ITALIAN ORGAN-WOMAN.
O Italian organ-woman
With the dark dark eyes,
What quick dreams rise
Within me as I watch thee!
What thoughts of southern skies!
With the dark dark eyes,
What quick dreams rise
Within me as I watch thee!
What thoughts of southern skies!
In a moment, in a gasping
Of the sudden glowing soul,
The blue waves roll
Of the Adriatic, clasping
My feet; I touch the goal
Of the sudden glowing soul,
The blue waves roll
Of the Adriatic, clasping
My feet; I touch the goal
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Of a thousand glowing fancies;
The soft Italian air
Breathes, and the pure dark hair,
Sweet beyond all romances,
Before mine eyes is fair.
The soft Italian air
Breathes, and the pure dark hair,
Sweet beyond all romances,
Before mine eyes is fair.
Oh, wonderful old seasons
Of the wondrous middle age,
Your passionate billows rage
About me—wars and treasons—
A strange unfathomed page.
Of the wondrous middle age,
Your passionate billows rage
About me—wars and treasons—
A strange unfathomed page.
And all because the ringing
Of one swift organ smote
My spirit,—and afloat
It went, and heard sweet singing
In many a gilded boat
Of one swift organ smote
My spirit,—and afloat
It went, and heard sweet singing
In many a gilded boat
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In Italy, diviner
Than is the cold sad land
Wherein our chilled feet stand,
Our harps swept by a minor
Love-breeze, a loveless hand.
Than is the cold sad land
Wherein our chilled feet stand,
Our harps swept by a minor
Love-breeze, a loveless hand.
O Italy, thy tender
And infinite caress
Is worth all stormy stress
That follows, and thy splendour
Makes bitterest death seem less
And infinite caress
Is worth all stormy stress
That follows, and thy splendour
Makes bitterest death seem less
Than one swift dream-emotion:
Oh, not in England now
I linger, but thought's prow
Cuts through the blue clear ocean
Whose waves thy rowers plough.
Oh, not in England now
I linger, but thought's prow
Cuts through the blue clear ocean
Whose waves thy rowers plough.
19
And all because thy music,
And thine Italian eyes,
Sent me to bluer skies
O dark-eyed organ-woman
Than these that o'er us rise.
And thine Italian eyes,
Sent me to bluer skies
O dark-eyed organ-woman
Than these that o'er us rise.
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ENGLAND AND PALESTINE.
Not in Jerusalem
Where many a tall straight stem
Of august palm-tree by the way-side stands;
Not in the olden town
Where Christ's dear timeless crown
Was woven, plaited by the Father's hands,
And by the lips of those
Far sweeter than the rose
Kissed,—ere about his brow, majestic, it expands:
Where many a tall straight stem
Of august palm-tree by the way-side stands;
Not in the olden town
Where Christ's dear timeless crown
Was woven, plaited by the Father's hands,
And by the lips of those
Far sweeter than the rose
Kissed,—ere about his brow, majestic, it expands:
Not in that city fair
Of sultry Eastern air
Shall for our brows be crowns and garlands spun
O valiant Western men,
Valiant, but not as then,
When, daily, deeds miraculous were done
The ancient legends say;
Blind eyes made whole with clay,
And cures unheard of wrought beneath the Eastern sun.
Of sultry Eastern air
Shall for our brows be crowns and garlands spun
O valiant Western men,
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When, daily, deeds miraculous were done
The ancient legends say;
Blind eyes made whole with clay,
And cures unheard of wrought beneath the Eastern sun.
Oh, sweeter is the rose
Here, where the North wind blows
Its flawless petals, bends its pliant stem,
Than Eastern lilies bright
Which maidens cull by night
And weave into a spotless diadem;
Fairer the rich green grass
Through which our swift feet pass
Than the few stalks which banks of desert-streamlets hem.
Here, where the North wind blows
Its flawless petals, bends its pliant stem,
Than Eastern lilies bright
Which maidens cull by night
And weave into a spotless diadem;
Fairer the rich green grass
Through which our swift feet pass
Than the few stalks which banks of desert-streamlets hem.
O South wind in the pine
Of England be thou mine,
Yea, mine the forests dark of Western shores,
And mine the strenuous crew
Of strong arms labouring through
The white resurgent seas with bent quick oars;
And mine the balmy lane
Where honey-suckles strain
Their eager tendrils,—mine the creeper round our doors.
Of England be thou mine,
Yea, mine the forests dark of Western shores,
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Of strong arms labouring through
The white resurgent seas with bent quick oars;
And mine the balmy lane
Where honey-suckles strain
Their eager tendrils,—mine the creeper round our doors.
A blood-red wondrous crown
Of endless high renown
Was Christ's; but plait we in our love-lit vales
Soft garlands sweeter far
Than any wreaths that are
Woven beneath the moon that Sinai pales,
Or in Gethsemane,
Or grown in Galilee,
Where many a fisher-prow the quiet lake assails.
Of endless high renown
Was Christ's; but plait we in our love-lit vales
Soft garlands sweeter far
Than any wreaths that are
Woven beneath the moon that Sinai pales,
Or in Gethsemane,
Or grown in Galilee,
Where many a fisher-prow the quiet lake assails.
O shores and lakes and dells
Of England! asphodels
And lilies of the East are not so fair
As tender blossoms born
Beneath the breath of morn
Within your folds and nursed by Western air:
Nor are the Eastern maids
Crowned with the dim black braids
As sweet as flowing crowns of sun-kissed golden hair.
Of England! asphodels
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As tender blossoms born
Beneath the breath of morn
Within your folds and nursed by Western air:
Nor are the Eastern maids
Crowned with the dim black braids
As sweet as flowing crowns of sun-kissed golden hair.
O England! cliffs and downs
And bustling fervent towns
And long grey shores and myriad-manèd sea,
And gardens, close, red-walled,
And mountains weird and bald
And white-plumed torrents tossing o'er the lea
And green sequestered nooks
And pebbly trout-loved brooks—
Give all your glory of soul, ye wild domains, to me!
And bustling fervent towns
And long grey shores and myriad-manèd sea,
And gardens, close, red-walled,
And mountains weird and bald
And white-plumed torrents tossing o'er the lea
And green sequestered nooks
And pebbly trout-loved brooks—
Give all your glory of soul, ye wild domains, to me!
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Crown me not with a hand
Burnt red with sultry sand,
But with the clear palm of an English maid;
Stars that above us shine,
O'er mountain-ash and pine,
And fluctuant birch and tangled oak-tree's shade
And silvery mute stream,
Mix ye with my fond dream,—
And flowers that flush in spring the English mossy glade.
Burnt red with sultry sand,
But with the clear palm of an English maid;
Stars that above us shine,
O'er mountain-ash and pine,
And fluctuant birch and tangled oak-tree's shade
And silvery mute stream,
Mix ye with my fond dream,—
And flowers that flush in spring the English mossy glade.
And English women fair,
Sweet for the Northern air,
Breathed as the English rose and white as high
Lilies that round us stand,
Stretch forth from all the land
Hands lily-white and fragrant ere I die,
And crown the English song
That sweeps in tide-flood strong
Across my eager heart and through my soul doth sigh.
Sweet for the Northern air,
Breathed as the English rose and white as high
Lilies that round us stand,
Stretch forth from all the land
Hands lily-white and fragrant ere I die,
And crown the English song
That sweeps in tide-flood strong
Across my eager heart and through my soul doth sigh.
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Oh, never yet avail
Our songs that seek the pale
And sun-burnt maidens of the Eastern land;
That leave the land of pines
For weak low-growing vines:
Never avail the feet that feebly stand
Upon our sounding shores:
Never avail the oars
That shun the utter deep, that strike against the sand.
Our songs that seek the pale
And sun-burnt maidens of the Eastern land;
That leave the land of pines
For weak low-growing vines:
Never avail the feet that feebly stand
Upon our sounding shores:
Never avail the oars
That shun the utter deep, that strike against the sand.
Grant me the perfect kiss
Of England,—give me this,
O time, O life, O death with down-bowed wings!
I ask this; nothing more:
One swift scent of the shore
That the blue endless English ocean rings
With ring of sweet white foam;
One rosebud from my home,
One flower whereto my hand in the death-grapple clings.
Of England,—give me this,
O time, O life, O death with down-bowed wings!
I ask this; nothing more:
One swift scent of the shore
That the blue endless English ocean rings
With ring of sweet white foam;
One rosebud from my home,
One flower whereto my hand in the death-grapple clings.
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One rustling heather-bell,
One tuft of furze to smell,
One woman's mouth, dearer than rose, to kiss;
One vision, nothing more,
Of limitless wide shore;
One awful rush of music; only this:
One breath of the utter sky
Of England;—then I die
Content, clasped in a wild unfathomable bliss.
One tuft of furze to smell,
One woman's mouth, dearer than rose, to kiss;
One vision, nothing more,
Of limitless wide shore;
One awful rush of music; only this:
One breath of the utter sky
Of England;—then I die
Content, clasped in a wild unfathomable bliss.
One wondrous London day,
To watch the torrent play,
The flood of life, along the murmuring shore
Of endless seething streets;
One with the heart that beats
In giant pulses through them evermore:
Then let the veil be rent
And let me pass content
The ever-rippling, waiting, yearning, death-stream o'er.
To watch the torrent play,
The flood of life, along the murmuring shore
Of endless seething streets;
One with the heart that beats
In giant pulses through them evermore:
Then let the veil be rent
And let me pass content
The ever-rippling, waiting, yearning, death-stream o'er.
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Crowned with my own sweet land,
Her hand within my hand,
Her eyes upon my eyes, her tender gaze
Deeply intent on me,
And all her wind-sweet sea
Laughing as children laugh in primrose-ways;
Thus would I pass,—nor fear
Lest in a new land drear
I pass beyond the reach of love and flowers and bays.
Her hand within my hand,
Her eyes upon my eyes, her tender gaze
Deeply intent on me,
And all her wind-sweet sea
Laughing as children laugh in primrose-ways;
Thus would I pass,—nor fear
Lest in a new land drear
I pass beyond the reach of love and flowers and bays.
Where God is, children are,
And sweet love, and the star
Of labour and of hope,—and woman's tread;
Woman whose tender breath
Fills all the vales of death
Like the far miles of countless rose-scent shed
In the Caucasian vales:
Such death no spirit pales,
For where there lasts a rose, no death-pale soul is dead.
And sweet love, and the star
Of labour and of hope,—and woman's tread;
Woman whose tender breath
Fills all the vales of death
Like the far miles of countless rose-scent shed
In the Caucasian vales:
Such death no spirit pales,
For where there lasts a rose, no death-pale soul is dead.
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Where love is, death is not;
Yea, not o'er any spot
Where sweet love treads hath bitter death the power
Not over England's seas,
Nor the immortal breeze,
Nor one white pure imperishable flower
Of English womanhood,
Nor one true bard who stood
True to his love and land through life's fast-flitting hour.
Yea, not o'er any spot
Where sweet love treads hath bitter death the power
Not over England's seas,
Nor the immortal breeze,
Nor one white pure imperishable flower
Of English womanhood,
Nor one true bard who stood
True to his love and land through life's fast-flitting hour.
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A HYMN.
[Than woman's grace more infinitely tender]
Than woman's grace more infinitely tender,
Crowned with the wide sky's uttermost deep splendour,
God-like and woman-like, friend to each offender,
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Crowned with the wide sky's uttermost deep splendour,
God-like and woman-like, friend to each offender,
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Strong as the strong seas, gentle as the falling
Snowflakes of winter, hearken to our calling:
Rend thou our foes' ranks, our advance inwalling;
Great Father, cheer us!
Snowflakes of winter, hearken to our calling:
Rend thou our foes' ranks, our advance inwalling;
Great Father, cheer us!
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Ruler of the four winds, Maker of the roses,
Sweetness of thine each petal-cup discloses;
Thine all the wealth sweet utmost summer shows is;
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Sweetness of thine each petal-cup discloses;
Thine all the wealth sweet utmost summer shows is;
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Strong in the blast of the North wind's anger,
Chider of nations, eager-footed ranger
Threading the stars' ways victor over danger,
Great Father, cheer us!
Chider of nations, eager-footed ranger
Threading the stars' ways victor over danger,
Great Father, cheer us!
Softer than woman-heart, Healer of the weary,
Sending calm sleep down, winged, upon the dreary
Children of men when sorrow waileth, eerie;
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Sending calm sleep down, winged, upon the dreary
Children of men when sorrow waileth, eerie;
Sweet Mother, hear us!
God of the war-ranks, flushed with the charges,
When the red bolts reel, blunted on the targes,
When the red foot-prints brighten river-marges,
Great Father, cheer us!
When the red bolts reel, blunted on the targes,
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Great Father, cheer us!
Send us a flower, God,—send us we pray thee,
Breath of thine heaven-land, seeking to-day thee!
Lo! with our clasped hands, God, we delay thee!
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Breath of thine heaven-land, seeking to-day thee!
Lo! with our clasped hands, God, we delay thee!
Sweet Mother, hear us!
Lift us through high seas of our tribulation
Ever from high towards holier higher station:
Heal every sad soul, renovate each nation:
Great Father, hear us!
Ever from high towards holier higher station:
Heal every sad soul, renovate each nation:
Great Father, hear us!
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TO “SOMEBODY”.
I
Not in joy thou camestFilling with delight
Where love's shafts thou aimest
All the pathway bright,
Crowned with a buoyant wreath of blossoms from the height.
II
Not like common flowersGorgeous in array
Were the buds thy bowers
Cloistered from the way:
Blossoms were thine of sorrow, not of gaudy day.
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III
White thy buds and tenderIn soft beauty were,
Not of fierce red splendour
Flushing all the air
With the august rich bloom their fiery tendrils bear.
IV
Red with fierce pain only,Streaked with love's own blood,
Telling of the lonely
Tides of sorrow's flood,
Is thy spirit's clear bloom, every gentle bud.
V
Every path thou makest,Spirit dear, divine:
Lo! as dawn thou breakest
On this spirit of mine
Made by thine own grief-pang, ever and ever thine.
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VI
Thou art in the sunset,Thou art in the sky,
In the white clear onset
Of the waves that try
To climb the sheer shore, surging ever yet more high.
VII
In the honeysuckle,Lady, is thy breast:
Dimpled dear white knuckle,
Is a lily dressed
Sweetlier e'er than thou art, in a snowier vest?
VIII
Thou art in the roses,Yea, each perfect bloom
Thine own heart discloses,
Thine heart-deep perfume:
Victor, O flower triumphant, thou art o'er the tomb!
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IX
Thou art in all Nature,Lady, unto me:
In her every feature;
In the wide wide sea,
In the soft leaf-laughter of a wind-kissed tree.
X
In the pure tide-laughterOn the silver sands;
In the ripples, after,
Hunting with moist hands
For the receding tide-wave, ebbing o'er the strands.
XI
In the ripple-surgingOf all mountain-lakes;
In the swift winds urging
Bushes in bent brakes;
In all that world-wide gladness, world-wide movement, makes.
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XII
In the orange lily,In the white as well:
In the blue land hilly:
In the soft furze-smell:
In all divine delights of Nature thou dost dwell.
XIII
At thy golden coming,Doth not sorrow flee?
Summer and the humming
Of the banded bee
And laughter of all Nature do environ thee.
XIV
When thy dark eyes meet me,How can trouble stay?
When thy touch doth greet me,
All is bright as day:
The sun shines forth, and splendid is his golden ray.
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XV
Whether it be LondonOr the country side,
Straightway grief is undone,
For I know my bride,
Alert, white-hearted, splendid, beautiful, swift-eyed.
XVI
Swift dark eyes of wonderHow doth passion fill
Your sweet depths, and sunder
By its regal will
All that the separate hours between did work of ill!
XVII
Common fields are gloriousWhen thy step is near:
Seasons slow, laborious,
Shine forth swift and dear;
Thou bringest every blessing by thy coming here.
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XVIII
Lo! for thee the oceanSoundeth on the shore,
Its profound emotion
Pouring evermore
Forth at thy feet which love it; thee doth it adore.
XIX
Sweet, thy spirit is giftedFar beyond the crowd:
Gentle, not uplifted
Be thou: calm, not proud:
Tender of voice and queenly,—lonely, God-endowed.
XX
Surely on some morrowWe shall rise and flee
This dim earth, and borrow
Pinions of the free,
And cleave the quiet blue superb airs joyfully.
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XXI
Surely all our longingAnd our suffering known
To the high God, thronging,
Winged, around his throne,
Some day shall bring his blessing on us, for our own.
XXII
Have we not, sweet, waited,Through the sighing years?
Gazed through barriers grated?
Wetted with our tears
The lonely sands of life-time: what relief appears?
XXIII
Lo! the great sweet visionDeath brings and his hand—
One day for our prison
Blue sky shall expand
And sweet love's perfect summer roseflush all the land.
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XXIV
Then the tender rose-flushOn thy cheek shall be:
As it burns and glows, flush
Likewise leagues of sea:
And sunrise beams resplendent, flames in every tree.
XXV
Then we will not tarry;Dead will be all wrong;
God our souls shall marry,
Married in my song
Long ere we fled the earth, vast-pinioned angels strong.
XXVI
For in song possessingAll thy sweet sweet soul,
Music fond, caressing,
Doth around thee roll
Great waves of passion now, long ere we touch the goal.
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XXVII
But one day at sweepingRush of God's swift hand
All the love that, sleeping,
Charmed the sleeping land
Shall awake: awake, shall waft to heaven's strand.
XXVIII
One hour doth the sorrow,But one hour, endure:
Then the burning morrow
And the awful pure
Unutterable joy that God's heart maketh sure.
XXIX
The awful spirit-sunriseOver land and sea:
Sweeter than love's moonrise
Which on you and me
Even in life shines soft,—yea, kinglier that shall be.
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XXX
Sunrise that shall followAgony that slays,
Blue hill and green hollow
And the deep flower-ways
Filling with urgent life, and our hushed hearts with praise.
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TO MY LADY.
A BALLAD.
Wonderful naked neck,
Marble, pure, beyond fleck.
Marble, pure, beyond fleck.
Wonderful sea-deep eyes,
Splendid as waves or skies.
Splendid as waves or skies.
Wonderful arms and hands,
Wonderful soft hair-bands.
Wonderful soft hair-bands.
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Wonderful body, too sweet
For bodies of gods to greet.
For bodies of gods to greet.
Wonderful lips, divine
With savour of eglantine.
With savour of eglantine.
From what wonderful land
Camest thou, girl-form grand?
Camest thou, girl-form grand?
Rising as Venus rose
From white waves, whiter than snows.
From white waves, whiter than snows.
Coming as Venus came
To set the world aflame.
To set the world aflame.
Love, where art thou now,
Tender, noble of brow?
Tender, noble of brow?
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What flowers in what land
Have caressed thine hand?
Have caressed thine hand?
Dost thou dream of me,
Dream of our old sweet sea?
Dream of our old sweet sea?
Dream of the love-sweet dell,
Where our footsteps fell?
Where our footsteps fell?
Dream of the words I spoke
When love the silence broke?
When love the silence broke?
Dream of the deep green valleys
Whence the soft breeze sallies,
Whence the soft breeze sallies,
Laden with odours fair
That soften the summer air?
That soften the summer air?
Dost thou dream of the days
When, ardent with new-born lays,
When, ardent with new-born lays,
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I flung at thy dear feet
Many a song-flower sweet?
Many a song-flower sweet?
Splendid as Dante's queen
(She too was fifteen
(She too was fifteen
When he first beheld
Her figure and love forth-welled)—
Her figure and love forth-welled)—
Splendid as Dante's bride
Thou wast, by the green cliff-side
Thou wast, by the green cliff-side
Standing, lithe, upright,
Youth's wonderful one sweet sight.
Youth's wonderful one sweet sight.
Now thou art no more
A glory on that far shore.
A glory on that far shore.
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The inland woods have heard
Thy laughter, O love-voiced bird!
Thy laughter, O love-voiced bird!
And inland flowers have seen
The seawind-kissed fair queen.
The seawind-kissed fair queen.
Art thou content with flowers
That blossom within thy bowers?
That blossom within thy bowers?
Dost thou not yearn for the sea?
Dost thou dream never of me?
Dost thou dream never of me?
Oh, wonderful body and hands,
Who kisseth the brown hair-bands?
Who kisseth the brown hair-bands?
Who kisseth body and hair
And breast-flowers soft and rare?
And breast-flowers soft and rare?
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Hath he wonderful tender hands
To gladden the brown hair-bands?
To gladden the brown hair-bands?
Hath he subtle and gentle touch
To fondle the dear neck much?
To fondle the dear neck much?
Hath he voice of the old sweet sea?
Hath he love and lyre of me?
Hath he love and lyre of me?
Hath he spirit as fierce as mine,
And passion as sparkling wine,
And passion as sparkling wine,
And love as the old white flowers
That scented our woods for hours?
That scented our woods for hours?
Take this one far word:
Let the sound of my song be heard
Let the sound of my song be heard
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Where thou art sitting to-day,—
Look up, sweet,—hearken, I pray.
Look up, sweet,—hearken, I pray.
Give me thy wonderful hand,
And enter the long-lost land.
And enter the long-lost land.
Enter the woods one night,
A spirit, a wonder white.
A spirit, a wonder white.
Or I will wait for thee
By the old unaltered sea.
By the old unaltered sea.
Give me a kiss and cling
About me, O soft of wing!
About me, O soft of wing!
Touch me with every nerve:
With wonderful bend and curve
With wonderful bend and curve
Of wonderful supple form,
Womanly, eager, warm,
Womanly, eager, warm,
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Earnest, swift, on fire,
Satiate my desire.
Satiate my desire.
Lean and throb to me
Like music of the sea.
Like music of the sea.
Be body and neck and face,
Mixed in a wild embrace
Mixed in a wild embrace
Awful, entire, supreme,
Great as a great God's dream.
Great as a great God's dream.
Give me thine utter soul,
Thy spirit, thine heart,—the whole.
Thy spirit, thine heart,—the whole.
Be compliant and pure;
With rapture of clasp secure
With rapture of clasp secure
My neck in thine eager hands,
And smother with loose hair-bands
And smother with loose hair-bands
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(That fluctuate over me,
So that their night I see
So that their night I see
Alone, and nought beside
Save star-eyes of my bride)
Save star-eyes of my bride)
My face, and pour thy splendour
Great, terrible, burning, tender,
Great, terrible, burning, tender,
Throughout me: like all flowers
That ever filled earth's bowers;
That ever filled earth's bowers;
Or like the rush of a stream,
Or music's manifold dream.
Or music's manifold dream.
Like one multiform flower,
My body and soul imbower,—
My body and soul imbower,—
One woman-blossom, giving
Joy utter, abundant, living;
Joy utter, abundant, living;
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Joy beyond all speech,
That song's words cannot reach,
That song's words cannot reach,
Joy that quivers along
The body in throbs of song,
The body in throbs of song,
And through the soul in leaps
That stir the soul's dim deeps—
That stir the soul's dim deeps—
Wonderful body divine,
Flower-body, be thou mine;
Flower-body, be thou mine;
Flower-lips, rose-mouth, kiss, cling,—
White arms, be tense white ring
White arms, be tense white ring
My body to embrace:
And, wonderful woman-face,
And, wonderful woman-face,
Thy spirit through thine eyes
Mingle, with dear low sighs
Mingle, with dear low sighs
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Of utter joy, with me:
Woman, my woman be.
Woman, my woman be.
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A HYMN OF WOMAN.
Is there one summer night
Wherein thou art not white,
O Woman diviner than all summer airs?
Is there one tender rose
Without thy mouth that glows
Within the central crown the rosebud bears?
Each meadow of corn thy golden beauty wears.
Wherein thou art not white,
O Woman diviner than all summer airs?
Is there one tender rose
Without thy mouth that glows
Within the central crown the rosebud bears?
Each meadow of corn thy golden beauty wears.
The dreams of youth are thine,
The buds upon the vine,
The splendour of noonday and of quiet night:
Thy sacred locks of gold
Round lovers thou dost fold,
And in the utter stars thine eyes are bright;
Radiant thou shinest upon the mountain-height.
The buds upon the vine,
The splendour of noonday and of quiet night:
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Round lovers thou dost fold,
And in the utter stars thine eyes are bright;
Radiant thou shinest upon the mountain-height.
What glory can we see
Of passion without thee
O dark-eyed queen of passion and of pure
Delight that makes all things
Thrill to the sound of wings,
Start at the gleam of some celestial lure;
Within thine hand thou dost all flowers secure.
Of passion without thee
O dark-eyed queen of passion and of pure
Delight that makes all things
Thrill to the sound of wings,
Start at the gleam of some celestial lure;
Within thine hand thou dost all flowers secure.
Thine hair is black as night
Sometimes, or golden-bright
As every shade of slowly-ripening corn;
Or English simple brown
Soft locks thou hast for crown,
And breast whose subtle sweet scents put to scorn
Blossoms whose dew-kissed petals kiss the morn.
Sometimes, or golden-bright
As every shade of slowly-ripening corn;
Or English simple brown
Soft locks thou hast for crown,
82
Blossoms whose dew-kissed petals kiss the morn.
Whether in youth we dream
Or days of manhood teem
With urgent labour, lady, thou art there
In love the world to drape;
No mortal may escape
The sweet bewildering tangle of thine hair;
With the increasing years thou growest more fair.
Or days of manhood teem
With urgent labour, lady, thou art there
In love the world to drape;
No mortal may escape
The sweet bewildering tangle of thine hair;
With the increasing years thou growest more fair.
Thou art a sacred queen
To boyish rapt sixteen,
But never the flying days may fly from thee;
Thou broodest as of old
Above the tossed broad gold
Of sunset and of sundawn on the sea,
And o'er the wind-tossed grass-blades of the lea.
To boyish rapt sixteen,
But never the flying days may fly from thee;
Thou broodest as of old
Above the tossed broad gold
Of sunset and of sundawn on the sea,
And o'er the wind-tossed grass-blades of the lea.
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Ever thou art, love, there,—
The wind-wave of thine hair,
And all thy splendour of bloom, and thy white hands;
Yea, thy pure body white
Is our sweet moon of night,
Amazing and enthralling all the lands
With ever sweeter tenure of pure bands.
The wind-wave of thine hair,
And all thy splendour of bloom, and thy white hands;
Yea, thy pure body white
Is our sweet moon of night,
Amazing and enthralling all the lands
With ever sweeter tenure of pure bands.
Sweet, ardent, swift of gaze,
Upon the flower-hung ways
Of earliest youth thou treadest like a queen;
But when the soft flowers fall
Thou art still over all,
Abiding with the same old smile serene
Untouched amid the autumnal dim demesne.
Upon the flower-hung ways
Of earliest youth thou treadest like a queen;
But when the soft flowers fall
Thou art still over all,
Abiding with the same old smile serene
Untouched amid the autumnal dim demesne.
For autumn unto thee
Is but as spring; we see
No diminution in thy glory, O thou
For whom the roses wear
Their garb of fragrant air,
For whom the lilies bend imperial brow;
For whom the autumnal breezes whisper now.
Is but as spring; we see
No diminution in thy glory, O thou
84
Their garb of fragrant air,
For whom the lilies bend imperial brow;
For whom the autumnal breezes whisper now.
Not ever a rosebud falls
Within grey trellised walls
But for its falling do the great gods grieve;
But thou beyond all grief,
Untouched, unsere of leaf,
Regnant, the immortal high land dost achieve,
And bloomest deathless from life's morn till eve.
Within grey trellised walls
But for its falling do the great gods grieve;
But thou beyond all grief,
Untouched, unsere of leaf,
Regnant, the immortal high land dost achieve,
And bloomest deathless from life's morn till eve.
Beyond all seas and showers,
Beyond all earthly hours,
Unconquered and immortal, sweet, thou art:
The utter dreamful skies
Thrill to thy tender eyes;
The moonbeams and the sunbeams watch thine heart;
Through the blue moonlit heavens thy swift feet dart.
Beyond all earthly hours,
Unconquered and immortal, sweet, thou art:
The utter dreamful skies
Thrill to thy tender eyes;
85
Through the blue moonlit heavens thy swift feet dart.
Thou art not any flower
Of earthly passing bower,
But sweet and glorious as from God's own hand:
Thou fillest all the breeze
And the far laughing seas
And all the green recesses of the land
With rose-breath, as when countless flowers expand.
Of earthly passing bower,
But sweet and glorious as from God's own hand:
Thou fillest all the breeze
And the far laughing seas
And all the green recesses of the land
With rose-breath, as when countless flowers expand.
In history's far weird days
Thou didst thy banner raise
Unchanged; thou wast to races vanished long
The same unearthly queen
Of majesty serene,
With sceptre sweet and so with sceptre strong;
A poem in Greece or Rome, a Syrian song.
Thou didst thy banner raise
Unchanged; thou wast to races vanished long
The same unearthly queen
Of majesty serene,
With sceptre sweet and so with sceptre strong;
A poem in Greece or Rome, a Syrian song.
86
By rivers echoing far
'Neath dead and broken star,
'Neath planets fallen themselves now in the void,
Thou wast a flower new-born
With all the flush of morn
Upon the cheeks whose tender flush decoyed,
And sweetness in the white hands which destroyed.
'Neath dead and broken star,
'Neath planets fallen themselves now in the void,
Thou wast a flower new-born
With all the flush of morn
Upon the cheeks whose tender flush decoyed,
And sweetness in the white hands which destroyed.
Thou ravelledst hearts of men
As even now, so then,—
Thou tangledst strong men's spirits in a snare:
Thou gavest unto them
Sweet passion's diadem,—
To kiss thy bosom and to kiss thine hair,—
To know thee longed-for and to find thee fair.
As even now, so then,—
Thou tangledst strong men's spirits in a snare:
Thou gavest unto them
Sweet passion's diadem,—
To kiss thy bosom and to kiss thine hair,—
To know thee longed-for and to find thee fair.
Through the ages thou hast been
The same white endless queen,
Filling the vales with music and the sky
With wonderful pure light,
And all our hearts with might,—
Soothing with gentle laughter every sigh,
Bringing the bounty of farthest heaven more nigh.
The same white endless queen,
Filling the vales with music and the sky
87
And all our hearts with might,—
Soothing with gentle laughter every sigh,
Bringing the bounty of farthest heaven more nigh.
What thou wast in the day
When on the water-way
Flamed the bright galley of the Egyptian queen,
Thou art, white sweetheart, still;
Late ages thou dost thrill,
And thou didst gladden all the years between;
Fostering, above earth's gardens thou dost lean.
When on the water-way
Flamed the bright galley of the Egyptian queen,
Thou art, white sweetheart, still;
Late ages thou dost thrill,
And thou didst gladden all the years between;
Fostering, above earth's gardens thou dost lean.
Intenser is the rose
Of passion when it blows
In later manhood,—and the growing race,
Woman, find fairer things
Soft-gathered in thy wings
And tenderer hues of beauty in thy face
Than all thy far ancestral rumoured grace.
Of passion when it blows
In later manhood,—and the growing race,
Woman, find fairer things
Soft-gathered in thy wings
88
Than all thy far ancestral rumoured grace.
So, lady, left so long
Beside the sea-waves strong,
Intenser ever is the love I bear
Unto thy dear grey eyes
Coloured as Northern skies
And all the endless garland of thine hair,
And body white and wonderful and fair.
Beside the sea-waves strong,
Intenser ever is the love I bear
Unto thy dear grey eyes
Coloured as Northern skies
And all the endless garland of thine hair,
And body white and wonderful and fair.
No day can pass but brings
Sound sweeter of thy wings,
And tenderer echo of approaching feet:
Thou canst not flee away;
Is even sombre and grey?
Flush it with sunrise of thy coming, sweet,
And at thy voice bid all the old mists retreat!
Sound sweeter of thy wings,
And tenderer echo of approaching feet:
Thou canst not flee away;
Is even sombre and grey?
Flush it with sunrise of thy coming, sweet,
And at thy voice bid all the old mists retreat!
89
REMEMBER ME.
As thou dost through far flying vales retreat
With soft breath than the wind-kissed rose more sweet,
Remember me!
With soft breath than the wind-kissed rose more sweet,
Remember me!
Remember me when sunset through the panes
Gleams,—when the burning gold of sunrise reigns
Above the sea.
Gleams,—when the burning gold of sunrise reigns
Above the sea.
When all the woods in June with laughing birds
Are loud, remember love's old June-sweet words,
Love's summer glee.
Are loud, remember love's old June-sweet words,
Love's summer glee.
90
As thou dost hold thy new love by the hand,
Remember, lady, all the old flowerful land,
Remember me!
Remember, lady, all the old flowerful land,
Remember me!
When days are dreary now, and lips are cold,
And no sweet singer at thy gate is bold,
Think on the sea.
And no sweet singer at thy gate is bold,
Think on the sea.
Think how the old waves sang louder for my song,
How sweet the moonlit beach was, and the strong
Lyre of love's glee.
How sweet the moonlit beach was, and the strong
Lyre of love's glee.
By all the old summer days and woods divine
That leapt at lovers' footsteps, yours and mine,
Remember me!
That leapt at lovers' footsteps, yours and mine,
Remember me!
By silent sorrowing in thy swift retreat
Think, if the rills be tender, how more sweet
The open sea.
Think, if the rills be tender, how more sweet
The open sea.
91
Think, if the buds that smile for thee inland
Be gracious, were it not more grace to stand
Alone with me?
Be gracious, were it not more grace to stand
Alone with me?
Far out of sight of common haunts and ways,
Tender as in the old tender-eyed sweet days
Beside the sea;
Tender as in the old tender-eyed sweet days
Beside the sea;
The days which closed in sacred wondrous tune
Of mystic first love 'neath the mystic moon,
In marvellous glee;
Of mystic first love 'neath the mystic moon,
In marvellous glee;
Were it not passing sweet again to stand,
Lips touching sweet lips, strong hand touching hand,—
Remember me.
Lips touching sweet lips, strong hand touching hand,—
Remember me.
92
HYMN.
By thy perfect sea,
Lord deliver me!
Lord deliver me!
By thy strength of hand
Over sea and land,
Over sea and land,
Over hills and plains;
By thy love that reigns:
By thy love that reigns:
By thy stars and storms,
By thy sun that warms:
By thy sun that warms:
93
By thy snow that shields
Seeds and fallow fields:
Seeds and fallow fields:
By thy breath that speaks
In the sweet spring-weeks:
In the sweet spring-weeks:
By the summer rose,
Where thy beauty glows:
Where thy beauty glows:
By thy tenderness,
By thy soft caress:
By thy soft caress:
By thine outspread wings,
Wherethrough thunder sings:
Wherethrough thunder sings:
By thy glories poured
Over mount and sward:
Over mount and sward:
By thy wondrous might,
Shown in starry night:
Shown in starry night:
94
By thy mountain-lakes,
By thy white snow-flakes:
By thy white snow-flakes:
By thy lonely seas,
By thy rosefed breeze:
By thy rosefed breeze:
By thy rains and clouds,
By thy white mist-shrouds:
By thy white mist-shrouds:
By thy heaven of blue,
Which thy love smiles through:
Which thy love smiles through:
By thy tender heart,
By thy lightning dart:
By thy lightning dart:
By thy wondrous world
In thy love-robe furled:
In thy love-robe furled:
By thy majesty,
God, deliver me!
God, deliver me!
95
SONG.
THE FUTURE.
The blue sky gleams,
The old dead dreams
Vanish adown the air:
From tree and bower,
From grass and flower,
Comes message of morning fair
The old dead dreams
Vanish adown the air:
From tree and bower,
From grass and flower,
Comes message of morning fair
Again the rose
In England glows,
Again the sweet streams sound:
The woods are white
With buds' delight,
Anemones star the ground.
In England glows,
Again the sweet streams sound:
100
With buds' delight,
Anemones star the ground.
The utter sky
Gleams pure and high
And the old moon thrills the vales:
Once more for free
Souls sounds the sea,
And the outspread wide wind's sails.
Gleams pure and high
And the old moon thrills the vales:
Once more for free
Souls sounds the sea,
And the outspread wide wind's sails.
Far, far behind,
We leave the blind
Deaf souls who love the past;
The future's deep
Voice thrills our sleep,
Its mantle upon us is cast.
We leave the blind
Deaf souls who love the past;
The future's deep
Voice thrills our sleep,
Its mantle upon us is cast.
101
The green meads sing,
Alert of wing
The future's songsters fly
On sweet white pinions
O'er broad dominions
Of wonderful untouched sky.
Alert of wing
The future's songsters fly
On sweet white pinions
O'er broad dominions
Of wonderful untouched sky.
E'en love is new
And sweet of hue,
Flushed as the first spring rose,
And passion gleams,
Soft-draped in dreams,
And the blossom of soul-life blows.
And sweet of hue,
Flushed as the first spring rose,
And passion gleams,
Soft-draped in dreams,
And the blossom of soul-life blows.
102
DESDEMONA RE-AWAKENED.
Desdemona is alive!
The strange sweet head
Shines, is not dead:
We are re-wed.
The strange sweet head
Shines, is not dead:
We are re-wed.
The green fields laugh;
The blue waves gleam;
Death was a dream;
O sweet sun-beam!
The blue waves gleam;
Death was a dream;
O sweet sun-beam!
103
My woman smiles;
O same eyes still
I strove to kill,
Have ye your will!
O same eyes still
I strove to kill,
Have ye your will!
My love is here;
O dear same hands,
What love expands
In heaven's new lands!
O dear same hands,
What love expands
In heaven's new lands!
Or is it earth?
The earth new-born
With flush of morn
On bright brow worn.
The earth new-born
With flush of morn
On bright brow worn.
O love! love! love!
I slew my soul
With you—the whole:
Death was the goal.
I slew my soul
With you—the whole:
Death was the goal.
104
O soft-haired head!
O eyes of light
And bosom white
And shoulder bright!
O eyes of light
And bosom white
And shoulder bright!
O body and soul!
Body so sweet
And soul so meet;
Lo! doubt's defeat!
Body so sweet
And soul so meet;
Lo! doubt's defeat!
105
TO THE REV. STOPFORD A. BROOKE, ON HIS LEAVING THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.
Now where the high hills are
And all the airs with mountain flowers are sweet,
Tread thou; the valleys yearn not for thy feet:
Their wreathed mists bar
Thy vision, in prison, from risen great gold star.
And all the airs with mountain flowers are sweet,
Tread thou; the valleys yearn not for thy feet:
Their wreathed mists bar
Thy vision, in prison, from risen great gold star.
Now where the strong streams run
Seek thou with ever more familiar tread
The utmost summits where the sun burns red,
The strong free sun,
And where in air most fair God's crowns are won.
Seek thou with ever more familiar tread
The utmost summits where the sun burns red,
The strong free sun,
And where in air most fair God's crowns are won.
106
The crowns of victors strong,
O'er pain, o'er doubt, o'er loneliness, o'er death,
Who have traversed life's lone sea with fearless breath;
But now they long,
Yearn, each, in speech to reach the victors' song.
O'er pain, o'er doubt, o'er loneliness, o'er death,
Who have traversed life's lone sea with fearless breath;
But now they long,
Yearn, each, in speech to reach the victors' song.
For the utmost tenderness
Of spirit is all the hope man can bestow:
To win from his own soul its utmost glow,—
So to redress
Some pain and strain, and gain love's white caress.
Of spirit is all the hope man can bestow:
To win from his own soul its utmost glow,—
So to redress
Some pain and strain, and gain love's white caress.
The awful utter love
Is the only gift we care for now,—to hold
Within our souls God's soul and this unfold:
All mere creeds move
Fast on the blast, are passed,—this dwells above.
Is the only gift we care for now,—to hold
Within our souls God's soul and this unfold:
All mere creeds move
Fast on the blast, are passed,—this dwells above.
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Beyond all earthly creeds
Thou passest now to the utmost peak, O friend,
Where in love's vision all our visions blend:
Each soul that bleeds
High to this sky with sigh at length succeeds.
Thou passest now to the utmost peak, O friend,
Where in love's vision all our visions blend:
Each soul that bleeds
High to this sky with sigh at length succeeds.
With deep sigh of relief,—
Watching at last the unimprisoned stars
Now face to face and not through Church-forged bars:
Sweet even if brief
The hour when power doth shower from sun to sheaf.
Watching at last the unimprisoned stars
Now face to face and not through Church-forged bars:
Sweet even if brief
The hour when power doth shower from sun to sheaf.
The one gold autumn hour
Whose glory compensates for all the year
Of mingled pain and labour and swift fear;
When thought to flower
Springs, and the autumnal woodbine rings life's bower.
Whose glory compensates for all the year
Of mingled pain and labour and swift fear;
When thought to flower
Springs, and the autumnal woodbine rings life's bower.
108
To pour our souls away
In utter selfless love; this joy alone
Sets the divine sweet soul on God's pure throne:
This in our day
We yearn and burn to compass, as we may.
In utter selfless love; this joy alone
Sets the divine sweet soul on God's pure throne:
This in our day
We yearn and burn to compass, as we may.
August 22, 1880.
109
TO THE GREATER WOMAN.
O greater woman with the great sweet hands,
Queen of all flowers and loves in all sweet lands,
When lonely, in weird pain, my spirit stands,
O great love, hear me!
Queen of all flowers and loves in all sweet lands,
When lonely, in weird pain, my spirit stands,
O great love, hear me!
When loves of earth are feeble and forsake,
Thou Woman-God, my worn-out spirit take,
Renew, deliver; soften and re-make;
Great God, be near me!
Thou Woman-God, my worn-out spirit take,
Renew, deliver; soften and re-make;
Great God, be near me!
115
Heal me with wonder of thine awful kiss:
If earth's friends fail, and ever earthly bliss
Declines, O God thy beauty—leave me this!
Thy breath to cheer me!
If earth's friends fail, and ever earthly bliss
Declines, O God thy beauty—leave me this!
Thy breath to cheer me!
O queenlier woman with the loving breast
So white, so tender, soothe me, give me rest;
If all are frail, in thee my soul is blest;
O white love, save me!
So white, so tender, soothe me, give me rest;
If all are frail, in thee my soul is blest;
O white love, save me!
O whiter woman with the rose-sweet hair
Than all the abundant tresses yet more fair
Which the dear brows of earthly women wear,
Lift from the grave me!
Than all the abundant tresses yet more fair
Which the dear brows of earthly women wear,
Lift from the grave me!
I mix my heart with thine: with awful cry
I turn me theeward from the loves that lie;
I trust thee, seek thee, praise thee as I die,
For thou shalt save me!
I turn me theeward from the loves that lie;
I trust thee, seek thee, praise thee as I die,
For thou shalt save me!
116
Are they flower-soft? then art thou softer yet
And tenderer: on thy brow more high calm set;
Oh, let my face by thy swift face be met,
O woman, hold me!
And tenderer: on thy brow more high calm set;
Oh, let my face by thy swift face be met,
O woman, hold me!
In arms that never open to let fall,
In breast wherethrough no withering serpents crawl,
In hands that close in like a sweet safe wall,
O sweet God, fold me!
In breast wherethrough no withering serpents crawl,
In hands that close in like a sweet safe wall,
O sweet God, fold me!
O greater heavenlier woman than all these,
With breath more tender than the tenderest breeze
That shakes in Italy the moonlit trees,
To thy will mould me!
With breath more tender than the tenderest breeze
That shakes in Italy the moonlit trees,
To thy will mould me!
117
DESOLATION.
With tenderest touch of mystical sweet hands
And fragrant overflow of soft hair-bands
She made me laughing lord of all love's lands.
And fragrant overflow of soft hair-bands
She made me laughing lord of all love's lands.
She raised me upward towards love's eagle height
By tenderest touching of her bosom white
And by her sweet deep brown eyes' laughing light.
By tenderest touching of her bosom white
And by her sweet deep brown eyes' laughing light.
She kissed me on the mouth, a kiss supreme
Of a soft rose far softer than a dream,
And gave me heaven and God in one swift gleam.
Of a soft rose far softer than a dream,
And gave me heaven and God in one swift gleam.
121
She left me, mocked me,—and this earth was hell,
With never air to breathe, no flower to smell;
Lo! as she went, God, spear-pierced, tottering, fell.
With never air to breathe, no flower to smell;
Lo! as she went, God, spear-pierced, tottering, fell.
122
ALONE.
Alone upon the scentless earth I stand;
Alone:
Far barren fields stretch wide on either hand,
Wind-blown.
Alone:
Far barren fields stretch wide on either hand,
Wind-blown.
Not one dear flower of woman's heart is left
For me:
Not one grass-blade in rocky rainless cleft
I see.
For me:
Not one grass-blade in rocky rainless cleft
I see.
123
Only the awful waste of billows white
And strong:
Only the starless soundless boundless night,—
No song.
And strong:
Only the starless soundless boundless night,—
No song.
Only the Godless speechless heavens,—no sound
On land or sea:
No help, no hope, no heart, no haven found
For me.
On land or sea:
No help, no hope, no heart, no haven found
For me.
124
SWEETER.
Lilies are sweet, but sweeter is thy breast
Whereon our tired hearts fall and therein rest,
O lady;
Its calm is than the utmost calm more blest
Of valleys shady!
Whereon our tired hearts fall and therein rest,
O lady;
Its calm is than the utmost calm more blest
Of valleys shady!
The rose is sweet, but sweeter is thy mouth
Than all the roses gladdening all the south
With fragrant splendour;
Where thou art, ne'er for e'er is passion's drouth
O woman tender!
Than all the roses gladdening all the south
With fragrant splendour;
Where thou art, ne'er for e'er is passion's drouth
O woman tender!
125
May-bloom is white, but whiter are thine hands
Than all May-blossoms smiling in spring-lands,
O spotless woman:
Where thou art, every gentle flower expands
Of sweet love human!
Than all May-blossoms smiling in spring-lands,
O spotless woman:
Where thou art, every gentle flower expands
Of sweet love human!
The night is sweet, but sweeter sweeter far
In thy soft arms the dreams imprisoned are;
Far sweeter, sweeter:
Thy swift glance thrills the darkness like a star,
A sudden meteor!
In thy soft arms the dreams imprisoned are;
Far sweeter, sweeter:
Thy swift glance thrills the darkness like a star,
A sudden meteor!
Dreaming in June beside a river-shore
Is sweet, but oh with thee through dreams to soar
To love's low measure
Is sweeter, sweeter, exquisite far more,—
A nobler pleasure!
Is sweet, but oh with thee through dreams to soar
To love's low measure
Is sweeter, sweeter, exquisite far more,—
A nobler pleasure!
126
The sweet wind's kissing mouth is dear delight,
But oh thy sacred kiss that crowns the night,
Than breeze more pleasant:
And oh thy body than all flowers more white,
Joy omnipresent!
But oh thy sacred kiss that crowns the night,
Than breeze more pleasant:
And oh thy body than all flowers more white,
Joy omnipresent!
127
ENGLISH FLOWERS AND SEAS.
In the land of breezy cliff-tops and blown grasses,
O Christ, art thou?
Where the summer-wind through crimson clover passes,
Do blossoms bow?
O Christ, art thou?
Where the summer-wind through crimson clover passes,
Do blossoms bow?
Do the tender roses in the green June hedges
Before thee burn?
Do the rushes tall along our river-edges
To thy face turn?
Before thee burn?
Do the rushes tall along our river-edges
To thy face turn?
137
Do the lilies white their fragrant stems before thee,
O Christ-king, bend?
Do English woods and English hills adore thee
And greeting send?
O Christ-king, bend?
Do English woods and English hills adore thee
And greeting send?
Is English honeysuckle glad to ring thee,
Thy fair brown head?
Do watchful hands of English women bring thee
Soft roses red?
Thy fair brown head?
Do watchful hands of English women bring thee
Soft roses red?
Do English maidens open hearts and bosoms
For thee to see?
Art thou the lord who gathereth English blossoms
From plant and tree?
For thee to see?
Art thou the lord who gathereth English blossoms
From plant and tree?
Are English women's spirits tearful, tender,
When thou art near?
Trembling do they unveil for thee their splendour
With woman's fear?
When thou art near?
Trembling do they unveil for thee their splendour
With woman's fear?
138
Art thou the lord of many a soft heart beating
With love of thee?
Art thou the prince of wide waste waves retreating.
Our white fierce sea?
With love of thee?
Art thou the prince of wide waste waves retreating.
Our white fierce sea?
Art thou the ruler of the autumn glory
Of dell and vale?
Do women, woods, and golden leaves, and hoary
Waves, shout “All-hail”?
Of dell and vale?
Do women, woods, and golden leaves, and hoary
Waves, shout “All-hail”?
Nay: Beauty's self upon our rocky ledges
Is sole sweet queen;
She, rose of roses in our rose-sweet hedges,
Shines in the green.
Is sole sweet queen;
She, rose of roses in our rose-sweet hedges,
Shines in the green.
She, 'mid the wavelets white a woman whiter,
Rises to stand
Upon our storm-swept cliffs a sweet star brighter
Than thy bright hand.
Rises to stand
Upon our storm-swept cliffs a sweet star brighter
Than thy bright hand.
139
Our blossoms and our women bend before her,
Her face they seek:
Our mountain-winds and moutain-mists adore her;
For her they speak.
Her face they seek:
Our mountain-winds and moutain-mists adore her;
For her they speak.
Our maidens not for thee O Christ are tender,—
Oh, not for thee:
But English eyes their unapproached white splendour
Sometimes may see.
Oh, not for thee:
But English eyes their unapproached white splendour
Sometimes may see.
The eternal seas on iron shore-sides breaking
For our ears sound:
The summer winds the moon-lit aspens shaking
Love Northern ground.
For our ears sound:
The summer winds the moon-lit aspens shaking
Love Northern ground.
The courser-waves along the gold sands charging
Not in thy name
Spread wide white manes along the yellow margin
Of beach they claim.
Not in thy name
Spread wide white manes along the yellow margin
Of beach they claim.
140
Yea, not for thee a maiden's rose-like passion
Bloomed in the North:
Not towards thy lips in mystical low fashion
Words trembled forth.
Bloomed in the North:
Not towards thy lips in mystical low fashion
Words trembled forth.
Not for all wreaths wherewith the lands imbower thee,
Would I displace
My one white rose,—nor hand, O perfect flower, thee
To Christ's embrace.
Would I displace
My one white rose,—nor hand, O perfect flower, thee
To Christ's embrace.
141
VOICES.
Prologue.
CHRIST.
Lo! o'er the wide green waves is thy sun setting,
Thy sun that flamed throughout the centuries long
With rays so vehement of point and strong?
Will it be lost to sight beyond regretting
In the green waves that surge around it, fretting
Its red fierce disc with floods of mocking song?
Do new sweet moons and stars the blue night throng?
Will there be suns for homage and forgetting?
Thy sun that flamed throughout the centuries long
With rays so vehement of point and strong?
Will it be lost to sight beyond regretting
In the green waves that surge around it, fretting
Its red fierce disc with floods of mocking song?
Do new sweet moons and stars the blue night throng?
Will there be suns for homage and forgetting?
We loved Christ's rose of blood till, tenderer far,
The rose of Beauty flamed, a silver star,
Flower-sweet, flower-tranquil, o'er the lessening foam:
Then saw we in the depths within her eyes
The end of our eternity of sighs,
Peace and a haven of hope, a painless home.
The rose of Beauty flamed, a silver star,
Flower-sweet, flower-tranquil, o'er the lessening foam:
Then saw we in the depths within her eyes
The end of our eternity of sighs,
Peace and a haven of hope, a painless home.
148
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Hearken: the Christ-king stands
With tender and outstretched hands;
He bringeth a law to the lands,
Glad tidings to every shore.
Hearken: the Christ-king stands
With tender and outstretched hands;
He bringeth a law to the lands,
Glad tidings to every shore.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Flag of the Christ-king, rise
Blood-red in the blue clear skies:
Lead us, through sorrow and sighs,
Through tears and pangs of the war.
Flag of the Christ-king, rise
Blood-red in the blue clear skies:
Lead us, through sorrow and sighs,
Through tears and pangs of the war.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Bend we before our King
And banners of greeting bring;
With swift sure ecstasy sing,
With down-bent homage adore.
Bend we before our King
And banners of greeting bring;
With swift sure ecstasy sing,
With down-bent homage adore.
149
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Hearken: our Lady is fair
As a rose in the morning air,
Sent from on high to prepare
Sweet tidings for every shore.
Hearken: our Lady is fair
As a rose in the morning air,
Sent from on high to prepare
Sweet tidings for every shore.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Beauty of Venus our queen
In front of us flame and be seen;
Lo! whiter than water the sheen
Of her body, our token of war.
Beauty of Venus our queen
In front of us flame and be seen;
Lo! whiter than water the sheen
Of her body, our token of war.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Wonderful Goddess, thee
Sprung white from the foam of the sea,
On gladsome and bended knee
We worship and hymn and adore.
Wonderful Goddess, thee
Sprung white from the foam of the sea,
On gladsome and bended knee
We worship and hymn and adore.
150
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Heal us, O Christ; our sighs
To the innermost cloudland rise:
Wipe thou the tears from our eyes,
From eyes that are weary and sore.
Heal us, O Christ; our sighs
To the innermost cloudland rise:
Wipe thou the tears from our eyes,
From eyes that are weary and sore.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Never was heart so pure
As thine, Christ; thou shalt endure
For ever: thy throne is sure,
Yea, firmer than any before.
Never was heart so pure
As thine, Christ; thou shalt endure
For ever: thy throne is sure,
Yea, firmer than any before.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Bountiful Christ! oh stand
With sword and sceptre in hand:
Thou art prince, thou art king to command,
Thou art God's own Son from of yore.
Bountiful Christ! oh stand
With sword and sceptre in hand:
Thou art prince, thou art king to command,
Thou art God's own Son from of yore.
151
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Wipe thou our weeping with hair
Outpoured, sweet, smelling of air
Of tenderest June-night, rare
Sweet bounty for souls that are sore.
Wipe thou our weeping with hair
Outpoured, sweet, smelling of air
Of tenderest June-night, rare
Sweet bounty for souls that are sore.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Never were roses as white,
O Goddess, as thy breast bright:
Tender as moon in the night
It gleams thy people before.
Never were roses as white,
O Goddess, as thy breast bright:
Tender as moon in the night
It gleams thy people before.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Beautiful rose-sweet maid,
'Neath the olives, in glimmering shade,
Thou standest, nude, unafraid,
A snow-white queen from of yore.
Beautiful rose-sweet maid,
'Neath the olives, in glimmering shade,
Thou standest, nude, unafraid,
A snow-white queen from of yore.
152
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Bend upon us thy face,
Thy bounty, thy beauty, thy grace,—
Be our goal in the wearisome race,—
The balm of thy spirit outpour.
Bend upon us thy face,
Thy bounty, thy beauty, thy grace,—
Be our goal in the wearisome race,—
The balm of thy spirit outpour.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
By thy groans upon Calvary's tree,
Blood-drops like tides of a sea,
Redeem thou the world unto thee;
By the oath thy Father swore.
By thy groans upon Calvary's tree,
Blood-drops like tides of a sea,
Redeem thou the world unto thee;
By the oath thy Father swore.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
To the farthest bounds of the land
Far stretches his strong right hand;
As a lion o'er leagues of sand
He paces, and loud is his roar.
To the farthest bounds of the land
Far stretches his strong right hand;
As a lion o'er leagues of sand
He paces, and loud is his roar.
153
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Sweet, with the balm of thy breath
Deliver from shadow of death;
O'er mountain, valley, and heath,
Thy blessing and help outpour.
Sweet, with the balm of thy breath
Deliver from shadow of death;
O'er mountain, valley, and heath,
Thy blessing and help outpour.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
By thine own dear calm white hands,
Calm love, deliver the lands
From shackles and perilous bands;
Christ never thy sweet oath swore.
By thine own dear calm white hands,
Calm love, deliver the lands
From shackles and perilous bands;
Christ never thy sweet oath swore.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
To the furthest limits of sight
Soft reaches our love's hand white;
Little she cares for the might
Of Jesus, his lion-like roar.
To the furthest limits of sight
Soft reaches our love's hand white;
Little she cares for the might
Of Jesus, his lion-like roar.
154
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
All the heavens of gold
In his sure grasp Christ doth hold;
He stands, keen, stalwart and bold,
Alert at the heavenly door.
All the heavens of gold
In his sure grasp Christ doth hold;
He stands, keen, stalwart and bold,
Alert at the heavenly door.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Help us, O Christ, to rise
To the loftiest untouched skies:
Hear thou our groans and sighs;
Aid us to heaven to soar.
Help us, O Christ, to rise
To the loftiest untouched skies:
Hear thou our groans and sighs;
Aid us to heaven to soar.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
He walked on the waves of the lake
Which a glistering floor did make:
Not a ripple had force to shake
His foot till his march was o'er.
He walked on the waves of the lake
Which a glistering floor did make:
Not a ripple had force to shake
His foot till his march was o'er.
155
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
All the heavens of blue
Her clear gaze glimmereth through;
Her soft tears fall in the dew;
She guardeth the high morn's door.
All the heavens of blue
Her clear gaze glimmereth through;
Her soft tears fall in the dew;
She guardeth the high morn's door.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
The sweet and the tender seas
And the loving and gentle breeze
Are thine, O Venus; with these
For wings thy soul doth soar.
The sweet and the tender seas
And the loving and gentle breeze
Are thine, O Venus; with these
For wings thy soul doth soar.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
And Love in the blue seas shines
As they wander in sparkling lines;
Never her grace declines,
Never her sceptre is o'er.
And Love in the blue seas shines
As they wander in sparkling lines;
Never her grace declines,
Never her sceptre is o'er.
156
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Surely where thou dost stand
Are flowers and songs of the land;
Summer at thy right hand
Shines on the green earth-floor.
Surely where thou dost stand
Are flowers and songs of the land;
Summer at thy right hand
Shines on the green earth-floor.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
What was the raiment thou
Didst wear, Christ? crucified how
Was thy body and pierced thy brow!
Thy shoulders a red robe wore!
What was the raiment thou
Didst wear, Christ? crucified how
Was thy body and pierced thy brow!
Thy shoulders a red robe wore!
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Sweet are thy lips and face,—
Fulfillèd of fair pure grace;
On the steps of thy shrine we place
Rich fruits ripe to the core.
Sweet are thy lips and face,—
Fulfillèd of fair pure grace;
On the steps of thy shrine we place
Rich fruits ripe to the core.
157
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Surely within thy breast
All buds of summer time rest
As in soft and scented nest;
Thou clothest the sweet earth-floor.
Surely within thy breast
All buds of summer time rest
As in soft and scented nest;
Thou clothest the sweet earth-floor.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
White is thy body, O Queen;
Its tender adorable sheen
O'er the moonlit waves is seen:
Thy shoulders their loveliness wore!
White is thy body, O Queen;
Its tender adorable sheen
O'er the moonlit waves is seen:
Thy shoulders their loveliness wore!
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
And we bring roses and fair
Wreaths tenderly wrought prepare:
Berries in thy black hair
We twist, red-ripe to the core.
And we bring roses and fair
Wreaths tenderly wrought prepare:
Berries in thy black hair
We twist, red-ripe to the core.
158
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Gifts in thine heaven, O King,
Thou hast for the hearts who sing
At thine altar, and round thee cling;
Gifts from thine heavenly store.
Gifts in thine heaven, O King,
Thou hast for the hearts who sing
At thine altar, and round thee cling;
Gifts from thine heavenly store.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Flies as a flag to the front
Christ's war-plume; there in the brunt
Of the battle he foes doth hunt,—
Yet the people his prowess ignore.
Flies as a flag to the front
Christ's war-plume; there in the brunt
Of the battle he foes doth hunt,—
Yet the people his prowess ignore.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Never shall frost again
Defile the grass of the plain;
Never shall fierce snows stain
The wide fields frozen and hoar.
Never shall frost again
Defile the grass of the plain;
Never shall fierce snows stain
The wide fields frozen and hoar.
159
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Thou art the only flower
We care for now in thy bower:
Thine own scent, sweet one, shower
Upon us, its fragrant store.
Thou art the only flower
We care for now in thy bower:
Thine own scent, sweet one, shower
Upon us, its fragrant store.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
On the sweet wind exquisite sighs
From our musical love-land rise;
Beauty a bird in the skies
Sings,—yet her song they ignore.
On the sweet wind exquisite sighs
From our musical love-land rise;
Beauty a bird in the skies
Sings,—yet her song they ignore.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Now the roses blow
For the waste wide miles of snow;
Singing is with us for woe;
Grass for the dead plains hoar.
Now the roses blow
For the waste wide miles of snow;
Singing is with us for woe;
Grass for the dead plains hoar.
160
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Four Evangelists came,
Robed in raiment of flame,
Eager with passionate aim,
Christ's stern warriors four.
Four Evangelists came,
Robed in raiment of flame,
Eager with passionate aim,
Christ's stern warriors four.
Christ being raised, dieth no more!
Christ the whole earth planned:
It leaped new-born from his hand;
His Spirit the waste void fanned
With its breath, and swift life bore.
Christ the whole earth planned:
It leaped new-born from his hand;
His Spirit the waste void fanned
With its breath, and swift life bore.
161
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Beauty's messengers fair
Are fire and ocean and air,
And the green earth clothed in rare
Flower-raiment: ministers four.
Beauty's messengers fair
Are fire and ocean and air,
And the green earth clothed in rare
Flower-raiment: ministers four.
Christ being dead, liveth no more!
Beauty the whole earth made;
The sunlit lands and the shade;
Mountain and valley and glade;
Life as a babe She bore.
Beauty the whole earth made;
The sunlit lands and the shade;
Mountain and valley and glade;
Life as a babe She bore.
162
Epilogue.
BEAUTY.
Yea, thou art whiter than the Christ, O tender
Venus who risest from the waves of time
With the old form beyond all words sublime;
As forest air when the night-mists surrender
And flowers are touched by sun, O stainless splendour
Thy breath is sweet: thou dwellest in a clime
Of love and lyric harmony and rhyme,
Far from the foot of slow-eyed foul offender.
Venus who risest from the waves of time
With the old form beyond all words sublime;
As forest air when the night-mists surrender
And flowers are touched by sun, O stainless splendour
Thy breath is sweet: thou dwellest in a clime
Of love and lyric harmony and rhyme,
Far from the foot of slow-eyed foul offender.
Take thou the future; in thy passionate kiss
Is all we need of earthly, heavenly bliss:
O body of beauty, all thy wealth bestow!
Like freshest smell of ferns in fragrant lanes
Is the dear scent that trembles o'er thy veins,
And sweeter is thy mouth than man can know.
Is all we need of earthly, heavenly bliss:
O body of beauty, all thy wealth bestow!
Like freshest smell of ferns in fragrant lanes
Is the dear scent that trembles o'er thy veins,
And sweeter is thy mouth than man can know.
163
CHRIST AND VENUS.
Across the weary waste of billowy water,
From heaven's high shore,
Comes Christ's voice saying, “O son, O weary daughter,
Thy toil is o'er”.
From heaven's high shore,
Comes Christ's voice saying, “O son, O weary daughter,
Thy toil is o'er”.
Across the moonlit meads, where tremulous willows
Bend dappled arms;
Across the bright sea's sunlit laughing billows,
Shine Venus' charms.
Bend dappled arms;
Across the bright sea's sunlit laughing billows,
Shine Venus' charms.
179
But hearken not: think of the skies so golden,
The seas so sweet,
The glory of him who trod the lake-waves olden
With unharmed feet.
The seas so sweet,
The glory of him who trod the lake-waves olden
With unharmed feet.
But we are weary,—and love's white limbs are shining
The soft night through;
What fellowship have we, O spirits repining
At love, with you?
The soft night through;
What fellowship have we, O spirits repining
At love, with you?
Hark to the solemn voice of Jesus saying,
“Soon will the door
On souls unsound and feeble feet delaying
Close evermore”.
“Soon will the door
On souls unsound and feeble feet delaying
Close evermore”.
Hark to the gracious voice of Venus chiding
The slow-foot crew;
Her rose-sweet breasts amid the roses hiding
Tarry for you.
The slow-foot crew;
Her rose-sweet breasts amid the roses hiding
Tarry for you.
180
And you may win the immortal peace that faileth
Never indeed:
Believe in Christ; mark how the pierced brow paleth,
The torn feet bleed!
Never indeed:
Believe in Christ; mark how the pierced brow paleth,
The torn feet bleed!
Mark how the flowers faint back for very wonder
When Venus speaks:
The tints that flame behind the mountains yonder
Are in her cheeks.
When Venus speaks:
The tints that flame behind the mountains yonder
Are in her cheeks.
After life's battle, lo! the towers of marble;
The sweet high song
That seraphs in God's golden palace warble,
White-plumed and strong.
The sweet high song
That seraphs in God's golden palace warble,
White-plumed and strong.
After the weary day the sweet flushed night-time,
And waiting there,
Giver of every summer-soft delight-time,
Our goddess fair.
And waiting there,
Giver of every summer-soft delight-time,
Our goddess fair.
181
After the lusts of earth the pure dominions
Where Christ is seen
Cleaving the solemn air with gold vast pinions
Of awful sheen.
Where Christ is seen
Cleaving the solemn air with gold vast pinions
Of awful sheen.
And after this the scent among the mountains
Of Venus' locks:
Sound of her footstep tender amid the fountains
And moss-gay rocks.
Of Venus' locks:
Sound of her footstep tender amid the fountains
And moss-gay rocks.
After the heat of earth the cool high heaven
Where no lusts dwell:
Lifted we are, yea saved, we sinners, even
From flames of hell.
Where no lusts dwell:
Lifted we are, yea saved, we sinners, even
From flames of hell.
Lifted we are by the divine dear brightness
Of Venus' breast:
Yea, by the body's soft exceeding whiteness
Our lips caressed.
Of Venus' breast:
Yea, by the body's soft exceeding whiteness
Our lips caressed.
182
Jesus! from all foul thoughts and shapes deliver!
From all base dreams!
Their goddess pierce with darts from out thy quiver;
With sword that gleams!
From all base dreams!
Their goddess pierce with darts from out thy quiver;
With sword that gleams!
Hurtless art thou and harmless, sweetheart tender,—
Christ's arrows fail;
For thine invulnerable naked splendour,
Nude, needs no mail.
Christ's arrows fail;
For thine invulnerable naked splendour,
Nude, needs no mail.
183
SLEEP.
When the wild days, love,
Pass, and night's haze, love,
For the sun's blaze, love,
Falls o'er the land;
How we shall sleep, love,
Tenderly weep, love,
Passion-joy reap, love,
Glad hand in hand!
Pass, and night's haze, love,
For the sun's blaze, love,
Falls o'er the land;
How we shall sleep, love,
Tenderly weep, love,
Passion-joy reap, love,
Glad hand in hand!
201
How we shall kiss, love,
Pleasure we miss, love,
Into one bliss, love,
Swift-gathered then;
How we shall cling, love,
While our souls sing, love,
While passion's wing, love,
Guards us again.
Pleasure we miss, love,
Into one bliss, love,
Swift-gathered then;
How we shall cling, love,
While our souls sing, love,
While passion's wing, love,
Guards us again.
Now the days dreary
Groan, and the eerie
Frozen nights weary
Body and heart;
Yea, not a pleasure
Breaks our sad leisure;
Sick beyond measure
Sigh we apart.
Groan, and the eerie
Frozen nights weary
Body and heart;
Yea, not a pleasure
Breaks our sad leisure;
Sick beyond measure
Sigh we apart.
202
Oh, when together
How the old tether
Bursts, and blue weather
Laughs in the breeze!
How the old sadness
Fades, and our gladness
Mounts up to madness,
Thrilleth the trees!
How the old tether
Bursts, and blue weather
Laughs in the breeze!
How the old sadness
Fades, and our gladness
Mounts up to madness,
Thrilleth the trees!
How we are lifted,
Blessed now and gifted,
We who were drifted
Far out to sea;
Now thy heart waketh,
Sweet one, that breaketh,
Trembleth and acheth,
Lost without me!
Blessed now and gifted,
We who were drifted
Far out to sea;
Now thy heart waketh,
Sweet one, that breaketh,
Trembleth and acheth,
Lost without me!
203
I too am waking,
Draught of joy taking,
Eager lips slaking
In the pure wine;
Wine that thou givest,
Love, while thou livest—
As thou receivest
Strength-gifts of mine.
Draught of joy taking,
Eager lips slaking
In the pure wine;
Wine that thou givest,
Love, while thou livest—
As thou receivest
Strength-gifts of mine.
Ah! when our sorrow
Flies on the morrow,
How we shall borrow
Pinions to fly:
How we shall soar, love,
Bursting the door, love,
Slavery o'er, love;
Free, you and I!
Flies on the morrow,
How we shall borrow
Pinions to fly:
How we shall soar, love,
Bursting the door, love,
Slavery o'er, love;
Free, you and I!
204
When we meet next, love,
Joy for our text, love,
Tired not nor vext, love,
How we shall weep:
One day forsaking
Earth and its aching,
Prison-bars breaking,
How we shall sleep!
Joy for our text, love,
Tired not nor vext, love,
How we shall weep:
One day forsaking
Earth and its aching,
Prison-bars breaking,
How we shall sleep!
205
TO THE AUTHOR OF “THE PRINCE'S QUEST AND OTHER POEMS”.
Wouldst thou join, O brother,
The swift-winged poet-throng?
Wouldst thou tread the burning
Paths where singers, yearning
Onward, upward turning,
Jostle one another,
The mountain-airs among?
The swift-winged poet-throng?
Wouldst thou tread the burning
Paths where singers, yearning
Onward, upward turning,
Jostle one another,
The mountain-airs among?
212
Oh, thy soul is young yet,
Crowned with sweet youth's leaves;
Thou hast not been maddened
By neglect, and saddened
By lost love,—but gladdened
All thy soul hath sung,—yet
Fate thy future weaves.
Crowned with sweet youth's leaves;
Thou hast not been maddened
By neglect, and saddened
By lost love,—but gladdened
All thy soul hath sung,—yet
Fate thy future weaves.
Joy thou shalt have, singer;
Not all song is pain:
Hearts of women sweeter
Than thine own soft metre,
Than thy swift words fleeter,
Shall for thy sake linger,—
Hearken to thy strain.
Not all song is pain:
Hearts of women sweeter
Than thine own soft metre,
Than thy swift words fleeter,
Shall for thy sake linger,—
Hearken to thy strain.
Many a sunset waits thee,
Many a summer day;
Many a bower of roses
Where Venus' breast reposes
And all its wealth discloses;
Time not yet, friend, hates thee;
Thou art early in the way.
Many a summer day;
213
Where Venus' breast reposes
And all its wealth discloses;
Time not yet, friend, hates thee;
Thou art early in the way.
Many a friend shall find thee,
Many a friend forsake;
Many a love with tender
Show of white soft splendour
Shall for thee surrender;
Many a bright noon blind thee,
Many a morning break.
Many a friend forsake;
Many a love with tender
Show of white soft splendour
Shall for thee surrender;
Many a bright noon blind thee,
Many a morning break.
Many seas with billows
Green or blue or grey
Shall for thee their roaring
Music be forth-pouring:
Many birds be soaring
Through the oaks and willows
Where thy footsteps stray.
Green or blue or grey
Shall for thee their roaring
Music be forth-pouring:
214
Through the oaks and willows
Where thy footsteps stray.
So thy life shall forward
Push its lingering wave;
Till the stars less golden
Seem than in the olden
Sweet days mist-enfolden;
Till thou lookest shoreward,
Poet, at thy grave.
Push its lingering wave;
Till the stars less golden
Seem than in the olden
Sweet days mist-enfolden;
Till thou lookest shoreward,
Poet, at thy grave.
See that ere thou sinkest,
Some true work be done:
Ere the rose-leaves wither
Seek to lure fame hither;
With thy lyre and zither
Light what life thou drinkest
Ere the set of sun.
Some true work be done:
Ere the rose-leaves wither
Seek to lure fame hither;
With thy lyre and zither
Light what life thou drinkest
Ere the set of sun.
215
One true song is endless,
One sweet hymn supreme:
Chant but one true tender
Song, and its winged splendour
Back to thee shall render,
Yea, though life be friendless,
Joy deeper than thy dream.
One sweet hymn supreme:
Chant but one true tender
Song, and its winged splendour
Back to thee shall render,
Yea, though life be friendless,
Joy deeper than thy dream.
216
TO VENUS.
An experiment in rhyme.
Wonderful exquisite bowers of the flowers of the passions,
Tender the splendour ye render in marvellous fashions:
Bright the delight of your white to our eyesight Thalassians.
Tender the splendour ye render in marvellous fashions:
Bright the delight of your white to our eyesight Thalassians.
Sweet are thy feet that retreat being fleet through the posies,
Venus, that lover-like cover like myriads of roses
The ways and the bays and the sprays where thy body reposes.
Venus, that lover-like cover like myriads of roses
The ways and the bays and the sprays where thy body reposes.
227
Wonder of thunder can sunder and sever from thee
Never a mortal: immortal thy portal of sea
Gleameth and beameth and streameth with laughter and glee.
Never a mortal: immortal thy portal of sea
Gleameth and beameth and streameth with laughter and glee.
Flower-like and bower-like, roseshower-like, we pray thee to save,
Venus, our soul from the goal and the roll of the wave
Swirling and curling and whirling us fast to the grave.
Venus, our soul from the goal and the roll of the wave
Swirling and curling and whirling us fast to the grave.
By thy body most beautiful, dutiful, now we beseech
Heal us and save: by thine hair and sweet air of the beach
Whence thou risest sublime to our clime, give us time, room and reach.
Heal us and save: by thine hair and sweet air of the beach
Whence thou risest sublime to our clime, give us time, room and reach.
Give our rhyme, Venus, time and sublime it till worthy it be
Of thy face and thy grace and the place where we tarry for thee,
Where the sound without bound now is found of thy limitless sea.
Of thy face and thy grace and the place where we tarry for thee,
Where the sound without bound now is found of thy limitless sea.
228
With mouth like the South when the drouth of the terrible day
Is ended and blended with splendid unspeakable spray
Of rain and of mist, be the souls of us kissed, so we pray.
Is ended and blended with splendid unspeakable spray
Of rain and of mist, be the souls of us kissed, so we pray.
Be our blossom, O bosom, our fragrant and tenderest rose:
Enfold us and hold us and mould us,—not one of us knows
Till thou dost surrender how tender thy splendour, love, glows.
Enfold us and hold us and mould us,—not one of us knows
Till thou dost surrender how tender thy splendour, love, glows.
229
MANY LOVES, AND VENUS.
Wonderful and delicate in seeming
Is this girl fair?
Lo! yet another hath eyes gleaming
Through blackest hair,
And yet another hath eyes dreaming,
And sweetest air.
Is this girl fair?
Lo! yet another hath eyes gleaming
Through blackest hair,
And yet another hath eyes dreaming,
And sweetest air.
Which is tenderest and best and sweetest?
The white-limbed maid?
Which sways passion's harp with finger fleetest?
Which hand hath played
Love's melody with ecstasy completest,
And most hearts swayed?
The white-limbed maid?
Which sways passion's harp with finger fleetest?
230
Love's melody with ecstasy completest,
And most hearts swayed?
Beautiful the golden tresses
That blind the sun!
Tender are the white caresses
By strong hearts won.
And yet the swift and searching soul confesses
Not all is done!
That blind the sun!
Tender are the white caresses
By strong hearts won.
And yet the swift and searching soul confesses
Not all is done!
O delicate and soft brown glances,
O eyes of blue,
From each to each the vision dances,—
For each sweet hue
Sweetness of the former tint enhances
And makes each new.
O eyes of blue,
From each to each the vision dances,—
For each sweet hue
Sweetness of the former tint enhances
And makes each new.
231
Lips with all the scent of roses,
And arms that bring
The thrilling sense of woodland posies
When close they cling,
And breast wherein the violet reposes,—
You, you, I sing!
And arms that bring
The thrilling sense of woodland posies
When close they cling,
And breast wherein the violet reposes,—
You, you, I sing!
Yet there comes a woman fairer,
With hair that smells
Of blossoms unbeholden, rarer,—
She brings the dells
Of long-lost lands to view, the bearer
Of asphodels.
With hair that smells
Of blossoms unbeholden, rarer,—
She brings the dells
Of long-lost lands to view, the bearer
Of asphodels.
She with limitless soft splendour
Passes along
Our nerves with touching as of tender
Outbursts of song:
Fragrance she brings that doth engender
Ecstasy strong.
Passes along
Our nerves with touching as of tender
232
Fragrance she brings that doth engender
Ecstasy strong.
Far beyond beauty of the others
She now is seen;
The old flowers were but as weaker brothers,
Feeble of mien,
To those her splendid bosom mothers,
Fostering, serene.
She now is seen;
The old flowers were but as weaker brothers,
Feeble of mien,
To those her splendid bosom mothers,
Fostering, serene.
Low we bend and do adore her,
For now we know
The awful fragrance floating o'er her
Shoulders of snow;
Venus it is: we fall before her,
Saying, “Sweet, even so!”
For now we know
The awful fragrance floating o'er her
Shoulders of snow;
Venus it is: we fall before her,
Saying, “Sweet, even so!”
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CHRIST AND BEAUTY.
Christians.—Tender to the weary-footed climber,
Comes the voice of Saviour Christ sublimer—
Greeks.—
Beauty's face,
Radiant on the morning-dazzled mountains,
Sweet beside the dim fern-hidden fountains—
Ch.—
In each place
Now the glory flames of the Redeemer,
Cease, O weary world, to be a dreamer—
234
And embrace
Not a rose, but sweeter than the roses
Venus' body that the night discloses—
Ch.—
Interlace
Weary hands around the Saviour's shoulders,
Take no part with mocking mere beholders—
Gr.—
Nor disgrace
Manhood by forsaking her our lady,
Sweet within the olive-thickets shady—
Ch.—
Lo! the race
Leading to the golden-hued far portal
Now begins for every true-foot mortal—
Gr.—
Nay, the chase
After white limbs through the yielding thickets,
Dashing fast aside the chirping crickets—
235
Rather brace
Steady thews to climb the mountains colder,
Where the lofty sunrise flasheth golder—
Gr.—
Softer grace
Than of sun or moon we have, O mortals,
Waiting sweet within the still night's portals—
Ch.—
We displace
All the older gods by newer splendour
Gleaming round about the Christ-crown tender—
Gr.—
Nay, we raise
Brilliant in the morning light our banner,
Sweet as ever in the sweet old manner—
Ch.—
Christ displays
Sunlike splendid rustless sword that gleameth,
Moonlike whiter dustless flag that beameth—
236
But the ways
Ever sweet, are sweeter now they fold her
In their rose-hung hedges and behold her—
Ch.—
Nay, the sprays
Drip with noble blood of Christ redeeming,
With his blood the hedge-row thorns are gleaming—
Gr.—
And we trace
By the tender buds that spring about her
Where she passes; not one rose without her—
Ch.—
Life obeys
Ever mandate of the Christ, arising
In new wondrous ways and modes surprising—
Gr.—
Summer days
Follow Venus, flushing with fair weather
Every hill and dale we roam together—
237
But the bays
Bluer shine for Christ upon the water;
Dead she is, their lewd god's lewder daughter—
Gr.—
Nay, she sways
Ever as of old the shining beaches,
And the far-stretched glittering foam-winged reaches—
Ch.—
Let our lays
Rather rise to God's own Son, the Victor;
Serpentine and as a snake-constrictor—
Gr.—
Her arms graze;
Yes,—we own it, love it, love to know it,
Not for Christ's embrace would we forego it—
Ch.—
Lo! we praise
Ever arms of Christ the Victor, singing
Eager psalms and round about him clinging—
238
No delays
Keep us from the tender-scented hollow
Whence there rings the love-voice that we follow—
Ch.—
Ye amaze
All our hearts, O people, by your daring;
Know ye not the flames that are preparing—
Gr.—
Nay, the blaze
Deep within our spirits of deep passion
Flameth in the old and quenchless fashion—
Ch.—
Christ's voice says,
“Come unto me, all ye spirits weary,
Spent with bearing deathful days and dreary”—
Gr.—
Love conveys
Even a tenderer and sweeter message,
For she gives herself as sweetest presage—
239
The gift weighs
Little with us, for we follow after
Tender ringing of Christ's silver laughter—
Gr.—
Which betrays:
While the white long limbs of pliant Venus
From all storms of earth and heaven screen us
In their maze.
240
MEMORY.
Sweet face that gazest down the glade,
Searching the solemn aisles of shade;—
Are past dreams dead, past hopes betrayed?
Searching the solemn aisles of shade;—
Are past dreams dead, past hopes betrayed?
Was once thine heart a blossom fair,
Laughing within life's spring-like air,—
Is life now over-hard to bear?
Laughing within life's spring-like air,—
Is life now over-hard to bear?
Thine eyes are pensive; whither stream
The swift sad thoughts whose wild wings gleam
Across thine heart: what is thy dream?
The swift sad thoughts whose wild wings gleam
Across thine heart: what is thy dream?
243
Ah! was it by some summer sea
That love's bright hand laid hold of thee,
Fast hold,—and thou in vain did'st flee?
That love's bright hand laid hold of thee,
Fast hold,—and thou in vain did'st flee?
And dream'st thou now of waves that broke
Nigh someone's footstep when he spoke
And bowed thy spirit to his yoke?
Nigh someone's footstep when he spoke
And bowed thy spirit to his yoke?
Or was it 'mid the meadow-sweet
In some soft mossy green retreat
Where thou could'st hear thine own heart beat?
In some soft mossy green retreat
Where thou could'st hear thine own heart beat?
In such spot came the conquering tread
Of love,—who bound about thine head
His tender wreath of roses red?
Of love,—who bound about thine head
His tender wreath of roses red?
Are all the roses white to-day,
Now love's frail foot has fled away
And left the woods and seashore grey?
Now love's frail foot has fled away
And left the woods and seashore grey?
244
Thou musest surely on such things,
And round about thy spirit clings
A memory whose mere faint touch stings.
And round about thy spirit clings
A memory whose mere faint touch stings.
A memory of those woods and seas
Wherethrough once lingered passion's breeze
And love's soft laughter; where are these?
Wherethrough once lingered passion's breeze
And love's soft laughter; where are these?
245
NOT ONE?
Of the roses that thine hands have handled
In sweet past days,
Days of gentle summers golden-sandalled,
Are there no strays?
In sweet past days,
Days of gentle summers golden-sandalled,
Are there no strays?
Not a petal for my heart to foster,
O love, O queen,—
Did every blossom perish when I lost her,
My flower serene?
O love, O queen,—
Did every blossom perish when I lost her,
My flower serene?
274
Hast thou not a single blue sky, gleaming
Divine for me?
Not a starry night, a moon-ray dreaming
Above our sea?
Divine for me?
Not a starry night, a moon-ray dreaming
Above our sea?
Not a thought, a kiss, a dear look tender
Seeking my gaze?
One vision of the swift eyes' splendour,
Their deep sea-rays?
Seeking my gaze?
One vision of the swift eyes' splendour,
Their deep sea-rays?
One vision of the white bright shoulder,—
Love, only one?
For is not all my dead life colder
Without its sun?
Love, only one?
For is not all my dead life colder
Without its sun?
A little thing it is,—and can it harm thee,
This little thing?
Just once to let the love-god warm thee
With warm soft wing?
This little thing?
Just once to let the love-god warm thee
With warm soft wing?
275
Yea, once to let the love-god hold thee
White breast to breast;
To let his radiant arms enfold thee,
One hour be blest.
White breast to breast;
To let his radiant arms enfold thee,
One hour be blest.
Rose-lips, upon my own lips settle!
Sweet face, come near!
Thou art flaming like a pink rose-petal;
Oh, have no fear!
Sweet face, come near!
Thou art flaming like a pink rose-petal;
Oh, have no fear!
Flower-mouth, upon my own mouth glisten;
Be not afraid;
The love-god's ears, and not another's, listen—
Unwind that braid.
Be not afraid;
The love-god's ears, and not another's, listen—
Unwind that braid.
Let the dark hair ripple round the shoulder,
The shoulder thrill;
Let kiss by kiss wax passionate and bolder;
Obey love's will.
The shoulder thrill;
Let kiss by kiss wax passionate and bolder;
Obey love's will.
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