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 | Poems in Love's looking glass |  |
2
TO COMATAS
τυ δ' υπο δρυσιν η υπο πευκαις
αδυ μελισδομενος κατακεκλισο, θειε Κοματα.
αδυ μελισδομενος κατακεκλισο, θειε Κοματα.
Here on this garden's close-cut grass,
Where here and there a leaf astray
Lies yellow, till the wind shall pass
And take it some new earthy way,
Here, O Comatas, let us lie
While yet the autumn sun is high.
Where here and there a leaf astray
Lies yellow, till the wind shall pass
And take it some new earthy way,
Here, O Comatas, let us lie
While yet the autumn sun is high.
The stir of men is quiet now,
But birds are singing each to each;
The robin on the apple bough
Sings to the robin in the beech,
And swallows twitter as they go
Wheeling and sweeping high and low.
But birds are singing each to each;
The robin on the apple bough
Sings to the robin in the beech,
And swallows twitter as they go
Wheeling and sweeping high and low.
No sound but these sweet madrigals
To our enclosèd garden comes,
Save when a ripened apple falls,
Or gnats intone, or a wasp hums.
Here shall thy voice bid time speed by,
O boy Comatas, as we lie.
To our enclosèd garden comes,
Save when a ripened apple falls,
Or gnats intone, or a wasp hums.
Here shall thy voice bid time speed by,
O boy Comatas, as we lie.
17
Sing some old rhyme of long ago,
Of lady-love or wandering knight,
Of faithful friend and valorous foe,
And right not yet estranged from might.
The songs our singers sing us now,
O boy Comatas, sing not thou.
Of lady-love or wandering knight,
Of faithful friend and valorous foe,
And right not yet estranged from might.
The songs our singers sing us now,
O boy Comatas, sing not thou.
Sing, for thy voice has gentle power
To cancel years of fret and woe,
And I, remembering this one hour,
Shall pass sad days the happier so,
And thou, before the sun has set,
O boy Comatas, wilt forget.
To cancel years of fret and woe,
And I, remembering this one hour,
Shall pass sad days the happier so,
And thou, before the sun has set,
O boy Comatas, wilt forget.
18
KIBROTH-HATTAAVAH
MOSESHot sun, dry sand, yet dew
Morning and night descends;
Praise God who giveth you
His own Angels for friends,
Who thus your table dress
In wildest wilderness.
ISRAELITE
O heavy toil to gather,
O tasteless, sapless bread,
Than such faint life far rather
In the Red Sea we were dead.
With manna day by day
Our soul is dried away.
MOSES
Souls mine, brought forth with pain,
Nursed, carried at my breast,
Weep not, nor murmur again,
40
At last, after this toil
A land of wine and oil.
ISRAELITE
Not so, father, not so,
That land comes never nigher;
We move but to and fro
Following a cloud and fire
Blown by the winds in heaven,
Aimless, as sands are driven.
MOSES
Nay, but can ye forget
How from the further coast
Ye passed, nor your feet were wet,
But Pharaoh and his host
Were whelmed by the wall of sea
And you, children, were free?
ISRAELITE
Freedom is this? then liever
Slavery in Egypt's vales,
Where flows the sevenfold river
Whose fish shine with bright scales,
Where grow fruits without number,
Green melons, green cucumber.
41
See from the darkened dawn
What clouds the Spirit brings;
Hark, near and nearer drawn
The whirr of infinite wings!
Praise God, fall at His feet,
Who hath given you flesh to eat.
ISRAELITE
Flesh, sweet flesh, once more:
In the veins blood, joy at heart:
For a week, a month, as of yore
Bliss: . . .
In the veins blood, joy at heart:
For a week, a month, as of yore
Bliss: . . .
. . . ah, too sweet thou art:
Dark falls, I bite the dust
Of the grave, the grave of lust.
Dark falls, I bite the dust
Of the grave, the grave of lust.
47
THE NIGHT WATCHES
Come, O come to me, voice or look, or spirit or dream, but O come now;
All these faces that crowd so thick are pale and cold and dead—Come thou,
Scatter them back to the ivory gate and be alone and rule the night.
All these faces that crowd so thick are pale and cold and dead—Come thou,
Scatter them back to the ivory gate and be alone and rule the night.
Surely all worlds are nothing to Love for Love to flash thro' the night and come;
Hither and thither he flies at will, with thee he dwelleth—there is his home.
Come, O Love, with a voice, a message; haste, O Love, on thy wings of light.
Hither and thither he flies at will, with thee he dwelleth—there is his home.
Come, O Love, with a voice, a message; haste, O Love, on thy wings of light.
Love, I am calling thee, Love, I am calling; dost thou not hear my crying, sweet?
Does not the live air throb with the pain of my beating heart, till thy heart beat?—
Surely momently thou wilt be here, surely, O sweet Love, momently.
Does not the live air throb with the pain of my beating heart, till thy heart beat?—
Surely momently thou wilt be here, surely, O sweet Love, momently.
48
No, my voice would be all too faint when it reached Love's ear, tho' the night is still,
Fainter ever and fainter grown o'er hill and valley and valley and hill,
There where thou liest quietly sleeping, and Love keeps watch as the dreams flit by.
Fainter ever and fainter grown o'er hill and valley and valley and hill,
There where thou liest quietly sleeping, and Love keeps watch as the dreams flit by.
Ah, my thought so subtle and swift, can it not fly till it reach thy brain,
And whisper there some faint regret for a weary watch and a distant pain?—
Not too loud, to awake thy slumber; not too tender, to make thee weep;
And whisper there some faint regret for a weary watch and a distant pain?—
Not too loud, to awake thy slumber; not too tender, to make thee weep;
Just so much for thy head to turn on the pillow so, and understand
Dimly, that a soft caress has come long leagues from a weary land,
Turn and half remember and smile, and send a kiss on the wings of sleep.
Dimly, that a soft caress has come long leagues from a weary land,
Turn and half remember and smile, and send a kiss on the wings of sleep.
52
ROSE-FRUIT
They praised me when they found the new-born bud,
And all my blood
Flamed, as I burst in blossom, to requite
Their dear delight.
And all my blood
Flamed, as I burst in blossom, to requite
Their dear delight.
And still they praised my beauty, as I grew
In the sun's view;
Then what will be their joy, said I, to find
My fruit behind!
In the sun's view;
Then what will be their joy, said I, to find
My fruit behind!
But when the wind came, and revealed at last
My heart set fast,
They said, ‘'Twere well this cumbering thing should go;
New buds will blow.’
My heart set fast,
They said, ‘'Twere well this cumbering thing should go;
New buds will blow.’
53
HEART AND WIT
It is not for infinity,
For larger air, and broader sea,
I long, but for one child, ah me!
For larger air, and broader sea,
I long, but for one child, ah me!
Desolate in my room I sit,
And my heart, questioned by my wit,
Makes poor attempts to answer it.
And my heart, questioned by my wit,
Makes poor attempts to answer it.
A mere child. Yes, a child whose face
Is all I care for, to express
Colour and form, and time and space.
Is all I care for, to express
Colour and form, and time and space.
Who prattles nonsense. Ay, may be,
But woven throughout with subtlety,
Far, far too deep and high for me.
But woven throughout with subtlety,
Far, far too deep and high for me.
While you say nothing. For my speech
Would break the spell that the weird witch
Has finely wrought from each to each.
Would break the spell that the weird witch
Has finely wrought from each to each.
56
Can it be love? Poor feeble word!
Confounding each emotion stirred
By God or man or tree or bird.
Confounding each emotion stirred
By God or man or tree or bird.
What is it? Nay, I know not, good,
But I would learn it, if I could,
This mystery of flesh and blood.
But I would learn it, if I could,
This mystery of flesh and blood.
But this I know, that sun and star
Are less to me and far less far
Than certain lights and shadows are.
Are less to me and far less far
Than certain lights and shadows are.
(And this I fear, that some strange new
Swift change may come to me or you,
And we be no more one but two.)
Swift change may come to me or you,
And we be no more one but two.)
64
SONG
[Love walked upon the sea this trancèd night, I know]
Love walked upon the sea this trancèd night, I know,
For the waves beneath his feet ran pale with silver light,
But he brought me no message as on a summer night,
A golden summer night, long ago.
For the waves beneath his feet ran pale with silver light,
But he brought me no message as on a summer night,
A golden summer night, long ago.
Love walked among the fields of yellow waving corn,
For the poppy blossomed red where his weary feet had pressed,
And my door stood ready open for a long-expected guest,
But he never never came, night or morn.
For the poppy blossomed red where his weary feet had pressed,
And my door stood ready open for a long-expected guest,
But he never never came, night or morn.
Perhaps if I wait till the summer swallows flee,
He will wander down the valley and meet me as before,
Or perhaps he will find me alone upon the shore
When he comes with the swallows over sea.
He will wander down the valley and meet me as before,
Or perhaps he will find me alone upon the shore
When he comes with the swallows over sea.
70
A SONG OF THE THREE KINGS
She is dead, ah! she is dead;
Silent is that gentle breath,
Still and low that golden head;
That sweet mouth is stopped in death.
Wherefore now we bring to her
Gold and frankincense and myrrh.
Silent is that gentle breath,
Still and low that golden head;
That sweet mouth is stopped in death.
Wherefore now we bring to her
Gold and frankincense and myrrh.
She is dead, yes, she is dead;
Never may we see again
Purest, holiest maidenhead,
Mother without spot or stain.
'Mid the sleeping lilies fold
Myrrh and frankincense and gold.
Never may we see again
Purest, holiest maidenhead,
Mother without spot or stain.
'Mid the sleeping lilies fold
Myrrh and frankincense and gold.
Lo, we come from very far
With all simples that we have,
Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar—
Ah! we came too late to save.
Scatter we ere we go hence
Gold and myrrh and frankincense.
With all simples that we have,
Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar—
Ah! we came too late to save.
Scatter we ere we go hence
Gold and myrrh and frankincense.
71
POLONAISE
So long, so long, the solitary night:
But day will break, and bring the happy light,
And then I shall arise and see the sun.
Nay, for the night has fallen eternally,
The shadow of death is heavy over me,
There is no rising up for such an one.
But day will break, and bring the happy light,
And then I shall arise and see the sun.
Nay, for the night has fallen eternally,
The shadow of death is heavy over me,
There is no rising up for such an one.
No gay glad day, no quiet twilight hour,
No mist of morning or sweet noonday shower,
No twitter of birds or murmur of labouring men;
Only the wizard mockery of the moon,
The wind repeating the same weary tune,
The dreams that light a little and fly again.
No mist of morning or sweet noonday shower,
No twitter of birds or murmur of labouring men;
Only the wizard mockery of the moon,
The wind repeating the same weary tune,
The dreams that light a little and fly again.
92
WORSHIP
Here will I sit, front row and middle chair;—Round me the congregation kneels and stands:—
Heigho! at last the Consecration prayer!
—Hurrah! I cannot see the Bishop's hands.
94
NATURE'S CARAVANSERAI
Take down the tapestries we hung for Summer,And spread them for a carpet on the floor;
'Tis faded, but 'twill serve for the new-comer.
The Queen may come again? fresh are in store.
95
FALSE SPRING
Such joy, such hopeless hope of buried blissStirs me, as once wearily wandering
Deep in the wintry wood a vision of Spring.
—I found bare boughs run o'er with clematis.
97
AN EXCHANGE
(EPICTETUS FOR ANTINOUS)
Be mine the bust your scruples hardly save,And yours the envied manual,—yet to me,
The freedman teaches how to live a slave,
The slave how Christ Himself would set us free.
104
TO MY TOTEM
‘Sub tegmine fagi’
Thy name of old was great:
What though sour critics teach
‘The beech by the Scaean gate
Was not indeed a beech,’
That sweet Theocritus
The ilex loved, not thee?—
These are made glorious
Thro' thy name, glorious tree.
What though sour critics teach
‘The beech by the Scaean gate
Was not indeed a beech,’
That sweet Theocritus
The ilex loved, not thee?—
These are made glorious
Thro' thy name, glorious tree.
And sure 'twas 'neath thy shade
Tityrus oft did use
(The while his oxen strayed)
To meditate the Muse.
To thee 'twas Corydon
(Sad shepherd) did lament
Vain hopes and violets wan
To fair Alexis sent.
Tityrus oft did use
(The while his oxen strayed)
To meditate the Muse.
To thee 'twas Corydon
(Sad shepherd) did lament
Vain hopes and violets wan
To fair Alexis sent.
Our singers love thee too.
In Chaucer's liquid verse
Are set thy praises due
The ages but rehearse:
Tho' later poets bring
Their homage still, and I
The least of those who sing
Thy name would magnify.
In Chaucer's liquid verse
Are set thy praises due
The ages but rehearse:
Tho' later poets bring
Their homage still, and I
The least of those who sing
Thy name would magnify.
106
For long ago my sires,
Ere Hengist crossed the sea
To map our English shires,
Gave up their heart to thee,
And vowed if thou wouldst keep
Their lives from fire and foe,
Thou too shouldst never weep
The axe's deadly blow.
Ere Hengist crossed the sea
To map our English shires,
Gave up their heart to thee,
And vowed if thou wouldst keep
Their lives from fire and foe,
Thou too shouldst never weep
The axe's deadly blow.
Thou hast my heart to-day:
Whether in June I sit
And watch the leaves at play,
The flickering shadows flit;
Or whether when leaves fall
And red the autumn mould,
I pace the woodland hall
Thy stately trunks uphold.
Whether in June I sit
And watch the leaves at play,
The flickering shadows flit;
Or whether when leaves fall
And red the autumn mould,
I pace the woodland hall
Thy stately trunks uphold.
Thou hast my heart, and here
In scattered fruit I see
An emblem true and clear
Of what my heart must be:—
Hard sheath and scanty fare,
Yet forced on every side
To break apart and share
Small gifts it fain would hide.
In scattered fruit I see
An emblem true and clear
Of what my heart must be:—
Hard sheath and scanty fare,
Yet forced on every side
To break apart and share
Small gifts it fain would hide.
107
THE ROBIN IN JANUARY
‘Hey robin, jolly robin’
Green again, O green to-day
Garden lawn, and mossy park;
They have laid a while away
Winter's ermine cloak; and hark,
Hark, our robin, who but he?
Singing blithe as blithe can be.
Garden lawn, and mossy park;
They have laid a while away
Winter's ermine cloak; and hark,
Hark, our robin, who but he?
Singing blithe as blithe can be.
'Tis not passion's melting note,
Though his breast be red like fire;
Nor can his, like thrush's throat,
Raise to rapture each desire:
'Tis a song of simplest joy,
Like the laughter of a boy.
Though his breast be red like fire;
Nor can his, like thrush's throat,
Raise to rapture each desire:
'Tis a song of simplest joy,
Like the laughter of a boy.
Robin, keep thy happy heart,
Through the year so well begun:
Live and love, unheard, apart.
So may we, when Summer's done,
Tired with art and passion-spent,
Hear and share thy sweet content.
Through the year so well begun:
Live and love, unheard, apart.
So may we, when Summer's done,
Tired with art and passion-spent,
Hear and share thy sweet content.
119
FROM THE WINDOW IN DECEMBER
‘Perished in pride.’ Dread thou the poet's tomb,O sweet-voiced thrush, who dignified and shy
Rufflest thy throat, and swell'st, and standest by,
While cheeping sparrows jostle for a crumb.
123
A FUNERAL
The snow is frozen hard upon the ground,Hard frozen is the grief in every eye;
The south will blow, and all these tears unbound
Will find thy face together, by and by.
125
FIRST SNOW
The fallows yellow and frigid
'Mongst frozen snowfields lie:
The black trees lift up rigid
Their arms to the leaden sky.
'Mongst frozen snowfields lie:
The black trees lift up rigid
Their arms to the leaden sky.
O'er barns and haystacks whitened
The larches sigh and sway.
The hedgerow grasses are lightened
With light not of the day.
The larches sigh and sway.
The hedgerow grasses are lightened
With light not of the day.
And sheep on the south slope browsing
Close huddled for the cold,
In a silvery mist drowsing,
Have all their fleece of gold.
Close huddled for the cold,
In a silvery mist drowsing,
Have all their fleece of gold.
But I know tho' round and above her
Are spells of the wizard death,
That waiting the Spring her lover
Summer but slumbereth.
Are spells of the wizard death,
That waiting the Spring her lover
Summer but slumbereth.
And I would my heart were lying,
Where Summer lies asleep,
Lulled by the fir-trees sighing,
And tinkling bells of sheep.
Where Summer lies asleep,
Lulled by the fir-trees sighing,
And tinkling bells of sheep.
133
IMPRISONED
The last half-hour is come and past,
The last good-bye is said,
The outer door is shut, the last
Faint echo fallen dead.
My heart too is shut fast, shut fast,
Close barred with bars of lead.
The last good-bye is said,
The outer door is shut, the last
Faint echo fallen dead.
My heart too is shut fast, shut fast,
Close barred with bars of lead.
None may come in, none may go out;
I sit apart alone;
Long days I sit, silent, in doubt
If the heart be turned to stone;
Long months—and then one day, a shout;—
At once the walls fall down.
I sit apart alone;
Long days I sit, silent, in doubt
If the heart be turned to stone;
Long months—and then one day, a shout;—
At once the walls fall down.
138
DOUBT
Oh that we too, above this earthly jar
One clear command obeying, we too might
Our path preordinate direct aright,
Moving in music where the planets are;
Or motionless like to a fixèd star
Might wait and watch above this weary night
The far-off coming of the morning light,
His feet upon the eastern hills afar.
One clear command obeying, we too might
Our path preordinate direct aright,
Moving in music where the planets are;
Or motionless like to a fixèd star
Might wait and watch above this weary night
The far-off coming of the morning light,
His feet upon the eastern hills afar.
Alas, alas! bewildered, desolate,
A horror of thick darkness wraps us round;
And some sit sadly down, and weep, and wait,
And some fall headlong in the gulf profound,
And some creep on by their own torches' blaze:—
O sun, shine forth, as in the ancient days!
A horror of thick darkness wraps us round;
And some sit sadly down, and weep, and wait,
And some fall headlong in the gulf profound,
And some creep on by their own torches' blaze:—
O sun, shine forth, as in the ancient days!
146
LOVE UNRETURNED
My soul, where is the fruit of lifelong pain
To render to the husbandmen above?
Thou hast been watered by my tears of love
For that pure spirit whose serene disdain
Pierced like a ploughshare thro' thee, leaving plain
Forgotten depths wind-sown, whereout I strove
Unceasingly to gather what might prove,
In time of harvest, tares instead of grain.
To render to the husbandmen above?
Thou hast been watered by my tears of love
For that pure spirit whose serene disdain
Pierced like a ploughshare thro' thee, leaving plain
Forgotten depths wind-sown, whereout I strove
Unceasingly to gather what might prove,
In time of harvest, tares instead of grain.
‘Alas!’ my soul said, ‘had but Love passed by
And cast into the furrows, as he went
Sowing beside all waters in the spring,
Methinks I had borne fruit abundantly
For God to garner, as He sits intent
Above the angels at their winnowing.’
And cast into the furrows, as he went
Sowing beside all waters in the spring,
Methinks I had borne fruit abundantly
For God to garner, as He sits intent
Above the angels at their winnowing.’
147
MELANCHOLIA
How like December fog my vague surmise
O'ercrept our world, and blotted out the day,
Till love irradiant from thy clear eyes
Purged it and hung in crystals, clear as they.
And though in hues too white the world was dressed,
Not spring-like blossoming, but slumber-drowned,
I joyed in beauty I should ne'er have guessed
Had not my loss thy dear redemption found.
O'ercrept our world, and blotted out the day,
Till love irradiant from thy clear eyes
Purged it and hung in crystals, clear as they.
And though in hues too white the world was dressed,
Not spring-like blossoming, but slumber-drowned,
I joyed in beauty I should ne'er have guessed
Had not my loss thy dear redemption found.
Ah, love! when all is done that love can do,
The world grows dim again, and dense the air:
A foggy cloud still mantles, hiding you,
And chiller falls the damp of my despair.
Would only heaven have pity, as I pray,
And send its wind to blow this mist away.
The world grows dim again, and dense the air:
A foggy cloud still mantles, hiding you,
And chiller falls the damp of my despair.
Would only heaven have pity, as I pray,
And send its wind to blow this mist away.
153
HOPE
I shall not see him yet, I know, for still
Between us lies an unsurmounted hill,
And tho' I hurry and pant, his pace is slow;
Yet shall I see his sunny face and hair
(For he will surely come to meet me) there
In the last valley somewhere, that I know.
Between us lies an unsurmounted hill,
And tho' I hurry and pant, his pace is slow;
Yet shall I see his sunny face and hair
(For he will surely come to meet me) there
In the last valley somewhere, that I know.
What tho' he pauses in the pleasant wheat
To watch the lark mount skyward, do my feet
Pause or my eyes desert the path they climb?
What tho' he strays where pleasant voices call
Of thrush or dove or woodland waterfall?
My ears hear nothing till that meeting-time.
To watch the lark mount skyward, do my feet
Pause or my eyes desert the path they climb?
What tho' he strays where pleasant voices call
Of thrush or dove or woodland waterfall?
My ears hear nothing till that meeting-time.
Will my strength last me?—did not some one say
The way was ever easier all the way,
The road less rough, the barren waste less bare?
The briars are long since past, the stones cut less,
This hill is not so steep, let me but press
Across that peak, I know he will be there.
The way was ever easier all the way,
The road less rough, the barren waste less bare?
The briars are long since past, the stones cut less,
This hill is not so steep, let me but press
Across that peak, I know he will be there.
155
BEAUTY
These other things of earth and sky
Are still most beautiful, and yet
I still can love them quietly.
Are still most beautiful, and yet
I still can love them quietly.
That broad flush where the sun has set
Lingering awhile for the moon's sake,
And the grey sea, I shall forget.
Lingering awhile for the moon's sake,
And the grey sea, I shall forget.
Why will forgetfulness not take
The troubled longing from my heart
Which thy flushed face and grey eyes make?
The troubled longing from my heart
Which thy flushed face and grey eyes make?
Art thou, thou only, more than part
Of this great beauty of the whole,
That but for thee my quick nerves start?
Of this great beauty of the whole,
That but for thee my quick nerves start?
Hast thou some hidden magic of soul
Which draws my eyes and hands and feet
As the moon draws the waves that roll?
Which draws my eyes and hands and feet
As the moon draws the waves that roll?
156
It may be, for I know well, sweet,
I have no word to say, at best,
But the waves' word which the winds repeat.
I have no word to say, at best,
But the waves' word which the winds repeat.
(Moon, is this spell thy potentest?
Cannot the waves mount up to heaven,
Or else this tossing sink to rest?)
Cannot the waves mount up to heaven,
Or else this tossing sink to rest?)
Conjure no more; let me be given
To love thy beauty peacefully
Like sunshine or the silver Seven.
To love thy beauty peacefully
Like sunshine or the silver Seven.
157
SEPARATION
Let us not strive, the world at least is wide;
This way and that our different paths divide,
Perhaps to meet upon the further side.
This way and that our different paths divide,
Perhaps to meet upon the further side.
We must not strive; friends cannot change to foes;
Oh yes, we love; albeit winter snows
Cover the flowers, the flowers are there, God knows.
Oh yes, we love; albeit winter snows
Cover the flowers, the flowers are there, God knows.
And yet I would it had been any one
Only not thou, O my companion,
My guide, mine own familiar friend, mine own!
Only not thou, O my companion,
My guide, mine own familiar friend, mine own!
159
KNOWLEDGE AFTER DEATH
Siccine separat amara mors?
Is death so bitter? Can it shut us fast
Off from ourselves, that future from this past,
When Time compels us through those narrow doors?
Must we supplanted by ourselves in the course,
Changelings, become as they who know at last
A river's secret, never having cast
One guess, or known one doubt, about its source?
Is death so bitter? Can it shut us fast
Off from ourselves, that future from this past,
When Time compels us through those narrow doors?
Must we supplanted by ourselves in the course,
Changelings, become as they who know at last
A river's secret, never having cast
One guess, or known one doubt, about its source?
Is it so bitter? Does not knowledge here
Forget her gradual growth, and how each day
Seals up the sum of each world-conscious soul?
So tho' our ghosts forget us, waste no tear;
We being ourselves would gladly be as they,
And we being they are still ourselves made whole.
Forget her gradual growth, and how each day
Seals up the sum of each world-conscious soul?
So tho' our ghosts forget us, waste no tear;
We being ourselves would gladly be as they,
And we being they are still ourselves made whole.
165
IN MEMORIAM
Put off thy shoes from off thy feet,
So came a voice to thee (tho' shod
With preparation, to make meet
For God) from God.
So came a voice to thee (tho' shod
With preparation, to make meet
For God) from God.
No vision nor similitude
He showed thee then, but, higher grace,
His Godhead's self, nor veil-endued,
But face to face.
He showed thee then, but, higher grace,
His Godhead's self, nor veil-endued,
But face to face.
Now not by word, O slow of speech,
Shalt thou the ills of life console,
Nor tongue to ear thy gospel preach,
But soul to soul.
Shalt thou the ills of life console,
Nor tongue to ear thy gospel preach,
But soul to soul.
167
PRAYERS
I
God who created meNimble and light of limb,
In three elements free,
To run, to ride, to swim:
Not when the sense is dim,
But now from the heart of joy,
I would remember Him:
Take the thanks of a boy.
II
Jesu, King and Lord,Whose are my foes to fight,
Gird me with Thy sword
Swift and sharp and bright.
Thee would I serve if I might;
And conquer if I can,
From day-dawn till night,
Take the strength of a man.
168
III
Spirit of Love and Truth,Breathing in grosser clay,
The light and flame of youth,
Delight of men in the fray,
Wisdom in strength's decay;
From pain, strife, wrong to be free
This best gift I pray,
Take my spirit to Thee.
| Poems in Love's looking glass | |