 | Country muse |  |
SECOND SERIES
1
MY COUNTRY LOVE
If you passed her in your city
You would call her badly dressed,
But the faded homespun covers
Such a heart in such a breast!
True, her rosy face is freckled
By the sun's abundant flame,
But she's mine with all her failings,
And I love her just the same.
You would call her badly dressed,
But the faded homespun covers
Such a heart in such a breast!
True, her rosy face is freckled
By the sun's abundant flame,
But she's mine with all her failings,
And I love her just the same.
If her hands are red they grapple
To my hands with splendid strength,
For she's mine, all mine's the beauty
Of her straight and lovely length!
True, her hose be thick and homely
And her speech is homely, too;
But she's mine! her rarest charm is
She's for me, and not for you!
To my hands with splendid strength,
For she's mine, all mine's the beauty
Of her straight and lovely length!
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And her speech is homely, too;
But she's mine! her rarest charm is
She's for me, and not for you!
17
A THIEF
There goes Love across the meadow,And I know his errand sweet;
Hark! the God is softly singing
To the music of his feet;
For he speeds to kiss Clarinda
As she milks the mottled kine;
O the thief, to steal before me
To the mouth that's only mine!
19
A DEAD FRIEND
It hardly seems that he is dead,
So strange it is that we are here
Beneath this great blue shell of sky
With apple-bloom and pear:
It scarce seems true that we can note
The bursting rosebud's edge of flame,
Or watch the blackbird's swelling throat
While he is but a name.
So strange it is that we are here
Beneath this great blue shell of sky
With apple-bloom and pear:
It scarce seems true that we can note
The bursting rosebud's edge of flame,
Or watch the blackbird's swelling throat
While he is but a name.
No more the chaffinch at his step
Pipes suddenly her shrill surprise,
For in an ecstasy of sleep
Unconsciously he lies,
Not knowing that the sweet brown lark
From off her bosom's feathery lace
Shakes down the dewdrop in her flight
To fall upon his face.
Pipes suddenly her shrill surprise,
For in an ecstasy of sleep
Unconsciously he lies,
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From off her bosom's feathery lace
Shakes down the dewdrop in her flight
To fall upon his face.
22
A SONG
[Coward heart, to dream of yielding]
Coward heart, to dream of yielding
When the fray is scarce begun!
'Tis not Spring alone that's gladdened
By the shining of the sun;
Late in Autumn's riper days
Love is born—and more, he stays!
When the fray is scarce begun!
'Tis not Spring alone that's gladdened
By the shining of the sun;
Late in Autumn's riper days
Love is born—and more, he stays!
What's a sea to Love if Hero
Wait upon the other side?
Never came a rosebud's beauty
But the guarding thorn was tried!
'Tis when hope seems spent and past
Cupid comes this way at last.
Wait upon the other side?
Never came a rosebud's beauty
But the guarding thorn was tried!
'Tis when hope seems spent and past
Cupid comes this way at last.
31
IN THE GLADE
From bush to bush I followed her,
A bird that piped and flew beyond,
I saw the little branches stir,
I saw her shadow in the pond;
A bird that piped and flew beyond,
I saw the little branches stir,
I saw her shadow in the pond;
And still she lured me to the wood
With cunning notes so round and ripe;
I followed in a dreamy mood
This feathered Orpheus and her pipe.
With cunning notes so round and ripe;
I followed in a dreamy mood
This feathered Orpheus and her pipe.
We passed a slope where cowslips shook
Their yellow blossoms in the breeze;
We passed the shallows of the brook,
And reached the temple of the trees:
Their yellow blossoms in the breeze;
We passed the shallows of the brook,
And reached the temple of the trees:
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And still her music onward went
Through hazel-alleys, beechen groves,
Where doves with lulling voices sent
Soft salutations to their loves.
Through hazel-alleys, beechen groves,
Where doves with lulling voices sent
Soft salutations to their loves.
So down these verdant colonnades
I still pursued the woodland note,
O'er lawny islands of the glades
That echoed to the blackbird's throat.
I still pursued the woodland note,
O'er lawny islands of the glades
That echoed to the blackbird's throat.
And as I neared one bright expanse
A cool oasis clothed with green,
A perfume, sweeter than romance—
Than love that only might have been
A cool oasis clothed with green,
A perfume, sweeter than romance—
Than love that only might have been
Came, with a stripling breeze for aid,
To stay a moment, stay and pass;
Another step. I spied a maid,
Or goddess, sleeping in the grass.
To stay a moment, stay and pass;
Another step. I spied a maid,
Or goddess, sleeping in the grass.
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Around her in an amber stream
There flowed the marvel of her hair,
The ransom for a world, the dream
To fill the morning with despair:
There flowed the marvel of her hair,
The ransom for a world, the dream
To fill the morning with despair:
The pink of apple-bloom possessed
The virgin cheeks unkissed by man;
And round her throat the sun had pressed
To clasp it with his ring of tan:
The virgin cheeks unkissed by man;
And round her throat the sun had pressed
To clasp it with his ring of tan:
Her lips, half-opened, had the light
Of cherries bathed by drops of rain;
Reproachless was the dome of white
Unblemished brow without a stain.
Of cherries bathed by drops of rain;
Reproachless was the dome of white
Unblemished brow without a stain.
Then in my heart that love did cry
Which from my life shall never pass;
And bitterly I longed to lie
Beside her beauty in the grass.
Which from my life shall never pass;
And bitterly I longed to lie
Beside her beauty in the grass.
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The doves in spires of elm and oak
Cooed softly in the afternoon,
And sometimes from a bush there broke
A whitethroat's tenderness of tune.
Cooed softly in the afternoon,
And sometimes from a bush there broke
A whitethroat's tenderness of tune.
The air was full of nameless joy!
And, daring all, I threw me down
As innocently as a boy
Beside her scented film of gown.
And, daring all, I threw me down
As innocently as a boy
Beside her scented film of gown.
Now if some secret charm in her
Across my aching heart did sweep,
Some magic in her bosom's stir,
I know not—but I fell asleep,
Across my aching heart did sweep,
Some magic in her bosom's stir,
I know not—but I fell asleep,
And when the day, a patient bride,
Was parting from her love, the sun,
The girl, or goddess, from my side
Had gently risen, and was gone!
Was parting from her love, the sun,
The girl, or goddess, from my side
Had gently risen, and was gone!
37
REFUSAL
Clarinda's shy.
She's mute, the rogue, and says me nay
Whate'er I ask.
Yet all I need is but to touch
The velvet of her hand, to hear
The rosebud call me Shepherd dear—
Clarinda's shy.
She's mute, the rogue, and says me nay
Whate'er I ask.
Yet all I need is but to touch
The velvet of her hand, to hear
The rosebud call me Shepherd dear—
Clarinda's shy.
Clarinda's shy.
The rosebud pouts and bids me hence
Whate'er I ask.
Yet all I need is but to hold,
For she has never been embraced,
The living circle of her waist—
Clarinda's shy.
The rosebud pouts and bids me hence
Whate'er I ask.
Yet all I need is but to hold,
For she has never been embraced,
The living circle of her waist—
Clarinda's shy.
38
Clarinda's shy.
Her pinky ears, those lovely shells,
Whene'er I speak
She floods apace with rain of gold.
Yet all I ask is only this,
To melt upon her snow a kiss—
Clarinda's shy.
Her pinky ears, those lovely shells,
Whene'er I speak
She floods apace with rain of gold.
Yet all I ask is only this,
To melt upon her snow a kiss—
Clarinda's shy.
39
LOVE'S SHARE
Cupid coming through the wood
Met me, and his eyes were bright,
So I knew the god had seen
Sweet Clarinda's red and white:
Met me, and his eyes were bright,
So I knew the god had seen
Sweet Clarinda's red and white:
Love had nestled all day long
In a haunt of lace and bliss;
Round his mouth the dimples came,
Thinking of Clarinda's kiss.
In a haunt of lace and bliss;
Round his mouth the dimples came,
Thinking of Clarinda's kiss.
Welcome, Love! Thine eyes may drink
What she has of shy and rare;
Thou a captive lie content
In the tangles of her hair.
What she has of shy and rare;
Thou a captive lie content
In the tangles of her hair.
42
I will share her breast with thee;
Then shall never sorrow come
When Clarinda's footstep makes
Music in my cottage home.
Then shall never sorrow come
When Clarinda's footstep makes
Music in my cottage home.
43
TO THE WORLD
Give me my Love's enchanted eyes,The right to lie where'er she lies,
And muse on her in wonder;
But never speak a single word
Shall harm us more than song of bird,
Or rive our souls asunder.
51
CONTENT
Though singing but the shy and sweetUntrod by multitudes of feet,
Songs bounded by the brook and wheat,
I have not failed in this,
The only lure my woodland note,
To win all England's whitest throat!
O bards in gold and fire who wrote,
Be yours all other bliss!
52
THREE MAIDS
Chloris—
Here's Cupid sleeping on a bank!
Let's steal his bow and break his arrows,
Or pinch him till he promises
To shoot them only at the sparrows!
Why, what a charming rogue it is,
And what a tempting mouth to kiss!
Let's steal his bow and break his arrows,
Or pinch him till he promises
To shoot them only at the sparrows!
Why, what a charming rogue it is,
And what a tempting mouth to kiss!
Clarinda—
Shame fall on any plan to snatch
The rosy god's most sacred arrows!
While this my bosom's loveless still,
Pray Cupid spare the world of sparrows!
I have a target soft and fair
That longs to feel his arrow there!
The rosy god's most sacred arrows!
While this my bosom's loveless still,
Pray Cupid spare the world of sparrows!
I have a target soft and fair
That longs to feel his arrow there!
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Unless his dart he aim apace
Our skin will wear from pink to yellow,
And not a maid as wife will sleep
Beside some strapping shepherd-fellow!
Wherefore my lips the god shall buss
That he may wake and shoot at us!
Our skin will wear from pink to yellow,
And not a maid as wife will sleep
Beside some strapping shepherd-fellow!
Wherefore my lips the god shall buss
That he may wake and shoot at us!
58
ON SEEING A TRAIN START FOR THE SEASIDE
O might I leave this grassy place
For spreading foam about my feet!
The splendid spray upon my face,
The flying brine itself were sweet
If I might hear on Cromer beach
The freedom of Old Neptune's speech!
For spreading foam about my feet!
The splendid spray upon my face,
The flying brine itself were sweet
If I might hear on Cromer beach
The freedom of Old Neptune's speech!
Ah, never language like to this
For those whose ears can understand!
Sometimes the coming of a kiss
To mate the ocean with the strand;
Sometimes the nameless oath is heard
The sea-god thunders through his beard!
For those whose ears can understand!
Sometimes the coming of a kiss
To mate the ocean with the strand;
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The sea-god thunders through his beard!
I have a sea of blue on high,
I have a sea of green beneath;
For me sweet inland birds do cry
Until with joy I hold my breath;
But Ocean's harp of wave and stone
Is bird and leaf and stream in one!
I have a sea of green beneath;
For me sweet inland birds do cry
Until with joy I hold my breath;
But Ocean's harp of wave and stone
Is bird and leaf and stream in one!
Upon my dancing apple-sprays
The blackbird whistles melodies;
Half through a mellow run he stays
And flashes to a neighbour's trees:
He's rare, but rarer now would be
The strident pebbles of the sea.
The blackbird whistles melodies;
Half through a mellow run he stays
And flashes to a neighbour's trees:
He's rare, but rarer now would be
The strident pebbles of the sea.
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And is it strange that round the shore
The lyric water should rejoice?
Ah no! for ever more and more
The happy dead are in its voice.
Majestic poet! might I be
As full of song, as finely free!
The lyric water should rejoice?
Ah no! for ever more and more
The happy dead are in its voice.
Majestic poet! might I be
As full of song, as finely free!
62
THE GIPSY KING'S SONG
Moths may flutter round a lamp,
Stars may haunt the skies;
Bees may plunder roses' hearts—
Give me Laura's eyes!
Stars may haunt the skies;
Bees may plunder roses' hearts—
Give me Laura's eyes!
Delve for gold, ye misers, delve
In the priceless west;
Snatch the diamond from the dark—
Leave me Laura's breast!
In the priceless west;
Snatch the diamond from the dark—
Leave me Laura's breast!
Argonauts, upturn the gems,
Guard them home in ships,
Cast them in a silken lap—
Leave me Laura's lips!
Guard them home in ships,
Cast them in a silken lap—
Leave me Laura's lips!
64
Fortune, wreck a kingdom set
In the blue above;
Play at bowls with hemispheres—
Leave me Laura's love!
In the blue above;
Play at bowls with hemispheres—
Leave me Laura's love!
65
MY CHERRY-TREES
O children of the smoke and fog,
With faces pinched by early care,
Would God you might adventure forth
To breathe this country air!
Would God your ears might drink the song
Of grasses, birds, and singing trees!
Would God your eyes grew round to see
My wealth of cherry-trees!
With faces pinched by early care,
Would God you might adventure forth
To breathe this country air!
Would God your ears might drink the song
Of grasses, birds, and singing trees!
Would God your eyes grew round to see
My wealth of cherry-trees!
A hundred thousand shining lamps
To light the glory of the green!
The rubies of my orchard hang
The sturdy leaves between;
The blackbird pecks them at his will,
The brazen sparrow with his beak
Attacks some swaying globe of fruit
And stabs its ruddy cheek.
To light the glory of the green!
The rubies of my orchard hang
The sturdy leaves between;
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The brazen sparrow with his beak
Attacks some swaying globe of fruit
And stabs its ruddy cheek.
But in the Covent Garden roads
You see the sluttish cabbage-leaf
In air that steals away your strength,
God's bounty turned a thief!
How happy is my growing boy
That here in grass which pricks his knees
He roams his world so shy and clean
Beneath my cherry-trees!
You see the sluttish cabbage-leaf
In air that steals away your strength,
God's bounty turned a thief!
How happy is my growing boy
That here in grass which pricks his knees
He roams his world so shy and clean
Beneath my cherry-trees!
I often lift him to a branch
That burns with cherries redly ripe;
A startled thrush in flight displays
The shrillness of his pipe;
And down to mother's upturned mouth
His baby hand so plumply fair
He reaches full of fruit, or drops
A cherry in her hair!
That burns with cherries redly ripe;
A startled thrush in flight displays
The shrillness of his pipe;
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His baby hand so plumply fair
He reaches full of fruit, or drops
A cherry in her hair!
Apollo gave my rustic Muse
Her artless shepherd-songs to sing;
The sorrel charms her, and the gloss
Upon the swallow's wing;
But often dreaming in the wood,
When comes the evening gift of dew,
Her soul flies forward to your souls,
And, children, thinks of you.
Her artless shepherd-songs to sing;
The sorrel charms her, and the gloss
Upon the swallow's wing;
But often dreaming in the wood,
When comes the evening gift of dew,
Her soul flies forward to your souls,
And, children, thinks of you.
Your naked feet within this grass
Should learn some simple country dance;
Upon your hearts should flash at last
The colours of romance.
O empty purse of mine, alas
That such a happy vision flees!
That all these urchins may not romp
Beneath my cherry-trees!
Should learn some simple country dance;
Upon your hearts should flash at last
The colours of romance.
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That such a happy vision flees!
That all these urchins may not romp
Beneath my cherry-trees!
69
LOVE'S AWAKENING
Chloris singing through the wood
Cupid spied a-sleeping;
Long the troubled maiden stood
At the archer peeping:
On his pink and perfect cheeks,
From the branches shaken,
Sprinkled tiny drops of dew,
But he would not waken.
Cupid spied a-sleeping;
Long the troubled maiden stood
At the archer peeping:
On his pink and perfect cheeks,
From the branches shaken,
Sprinkled tiny drops of dew,
But he would not waken.
Chloris in her homespun gown
Shyly came a-creeping;
And she bent her beauty down
O'er the god a-sleeping:
‘Softly, velvet kiss,’ she said—
How her heart was shaken!—
‘Melt upon this ruby mouth
That the Boy awaken!’
Shyly came a-creeping;
And she bent her beauty down
O'er the god a-sleeping:
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How her heart was shaken!—
‘Melt upon this ruby mouth
That the Boy awaken!’
71
A FORTUNATE ISLAND
Across the hills, across the sea,
Across the land that lies beyond,
An islet slumbers in the waves
As languid as a lilied pond:
There roses keep a festival
Of breaking bud and scented breath;
And on the hills and by the sea
There is no dream of death.
Across the land that lies beyond,
An islet slumbers in the waves
As languid as a lilied pond:
There roses keep a festival
Of breaking bud and scented breath;
And on the hills and by the sea
There is no dream of death.
Festoons of princely purple hang,
And crimson creepers to and fro
Move to the whisper of the winds
That lull to linger, lift to go:
The golden birds on blooms of fire,
The lowlier larks on flaming heath,
Trill, for their happy hearts are sure
There is no dream of death.
And crimson creepers to and fro
Move to the whisper of the winds
That lull to linger, lift to go:
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The lowlier larks on flaming heath,
Trill, for their happy hearts are sure
There is no dream of death.
Here are the summer sights and sounds
Of untempestuous summer seas;
The strand that as a vast harp rings
To foamy fingers' melodies.
And all who find this quiet isle
Across the hills, across the sea,
Across the land that lies beyond,
Shall live eternally.
Of untempestuous summer seas;
The strand that as a vast harp rings
To foamy fingers' melodies.
And all who find this quiet isle
Across the hills, across the sea,
Across the land that lies beyond,
Shall live eternally.
73
THE RIVULET
Here I come and cast me down,
Shining rivulet, beside thee;
And thy birds shall sing the frown
Off my brow the while I hide me
On thy sloping banks that fall
In a cataract of grasses,
Till the blades can softly call
Secrets to the leaf that passes.
Shining rivulet, beside thee;
And thy birds shall sing the frown
Off my brow the while I hide me
On thy sloping banks that fall
In a cataract of grasses,
Till the blades can softly call
Secrets to the leaf that passes.
Let the music of thy speed,
And the mist of sacrifices
Rising from the stilly mead
Sweet with wildwood blossom-spices
Teach that Nature's quiet priests
Here within her sacred spaces,
At the coming of her feasts
Cast all care from off their faces.
And the mist of sacrifices
Rising from the stilly mead
Sweet with wildwood blossom-spices
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Here within her sacred spaces,
At the coming of her feasts
Cast all care from off their faces.
Me my mother ofttimes bore
Here, O rivulet, to view thee;
Here I learned the song-bird's lore,
Here I loved and here I knew thee;
What thou spakest to the cress
Found an echo in my spirit,
And I heard in happiness
Foxglove bells that tinkled near it.
Here, O rivulet, to view thee;
Here I learned the song-bird's lore,
Here I loved and here I knew thee;
What thou spakest to the cress
Found an echo in my spirit,
And I heard in happiness
Foxglove bells that tinkled near it.
Good it is to find thee still
Faithful to the distant river;
Sweet to think the fruitful hill
Grant its help to thee for ever:
Constant height and constant stream,
Shall I find where last we parted,
Her I love, my hope, my dream,
Just as fair and gentle-hearted?
Faithful to the distant river;
Sweet to think the fruitful hill
Grant its help to thee for ever:
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Shall I find where last we parted,
Her I love, my hope, my dream,
Just as fair and gentle-hearted?
Am I dreaming? She is dead.
Death in envy of her tresses
Stole her wealth of white and red,
All her bosom's lovelinesses;
Then the skies of duller blue
And thy lessened music taught me,
Stream, the abundance and the hue
Of the harvest Time had brought me.
Death in envy of her tresses
Stole her wealth of white and red,
All her bosom's lovelinesses;
Then the skies of duller blue
And thy lessened music taught me,
Stream, the abundance and the hue
Of the harvest Time had brought me.
Loveless now I come apace,
Shining rivulet, revealing
To thy bright familiar face
What can find no truer healing?
Nature by her mother's skill,
Where the greensward's cool and slanting,
Soothes me with the wood and hill
And the slumber in thy chanting.
Shining rivulet, revealing
To thy bright familiar face
What can find no truer healing?
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Where the greensward's cool and slanting,
Soothes me with the wood and hill
And the slumber in thy chanting.
On thy breast I cast my love!
Let it float adown thy reaches
Past the fluting of the dove,
Thymy banks and silver beeches:
Chance may steer it to those isles
Where the tearless walk together
In a paradise of smiles,
Tenderness and golden weather.
Let it float adown thy reaches
Past the fluting of the dove,
Thymy banks and silver beeches:
Chance may steer it to those isles
Where the tearless walk together
In a paradise of smiles,
Tenderness and golden weather.
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A COURTSHIP
'Twas breakfast-time; the noisy house
Constrained the antics of the mouse;
The nursery window, opened wide,
Let in the scents of morning-tide.
Constrained the antics of the mouse;
The nursery window, opened wide,
Let in the scents of morning-tide.
The sun looked in with jolly face;
He saw some youngsters saying grace;
He turned the teapot to a gem,
He found the spoons and goldened them.
He saw some youngsters saying grace;
He turned the teapot to a gem,
He found the spoons and goldened them.
The under-nurse industrious sat,
And stitched the brim of Baby's hat;
The sun grew fond about her head,
Her needle married shining thread.
And stitched the brim of Baby's hat;
The sun grew fond about her head,
Her needle married shining thread.
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Her gown, receptive of the sun,
Seemed wonder-wrought and fairy-spun.
O golden tailor! golden trade
So to befrock a rosebud maid
Seemed wonder-wrought and fairy-spun.
O golden tailor! golden trade
So to befrock a rosebud maid
She worked; a tiny sparkling globe
Fell on the bosom of her robe;
The sun perceived the liquid fear,
And made a topaz from the tear.
Fell on the bosom of her robe;
The sun perceived the liquid fear,
And made a topaz from the tear.
And thus sweethearting with his mote,
He ringed the beauty of her throat,
And on her fruitful bodice prest
He boldly warmed her comely breast.
He ringed the beauty of her throat,
And on her fruitful bodice prest
He boldly warmed her comely breast.
The winking buttons on her gown
Shone like the lamps of London Town,
And on her slippers, black and bright,
There fell the wooing lips of light.
Shone like the lamps of London Town,
And on her slippers, black and bright,
There fell the wooing lips of light.
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At last the sun began to make
The old mistake, the old mistake!
And then the nurse, a modest maid,
Rose and departed to the shade!
The old mistake, the old mistake!
And then the nurse, a modest maid,
Rose and departed to the shade!
99
MY CONTENT
What's my content?
I love the bird, I love the blue
That deepens in the firmament,
The grass to mate them, and the hush
Before the warble of the thrush:
At morn and evening from the brake
All sweet-throat minstrels choicely make
A rare content.
I love the bird, I love the blue
That deepens in the firmament,
The grass to mate them, and the hush
Before the warble of the thrush:
At morn and evening from the brake
All sweet-throat minstrels choicely make
A rare content.
How God is good!—
He lends the song, He lends the sky!
And O, my heart has understood
The spider's fragile line of lace,
The common weed, the woody space!
These miracles that bring me bliss,
And one sweet English girl to kiss,
Make my content.
He lends the song, He lends the sky!
And O, my heart has understood
The spider's fragile line of lace,
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These miracles that bring me bliss,
And one sweet English girl to kiss,
Make my content.
101
REFLECTIVE LOVE
The wiser few who snap a thumb
At youth when he is hot to tie,
Passed through the flame, not seldom come
On love mature that cannot die.
At youth when he is hot to tie,
Passed through the flame, not seldom come
On love mature that cannot die.
The helpmeet with her quiet tread—
That constant music, sweet, assured—
Moves round him till his need is fed
By love in use, by care outpoured.
That constant music, sweet, assured—
Moves round him till his need is fed
By love in use, by care outpoured.
Unshaken by the heats of youth,
The spikes of passion and their smart,
Man probes the soul of woman's truth
And hugs contentment to his heart.
The spikes of passion and their smart,
Man probes the soul of woman's truth
And hugs contentment to his heart.
102
A SONG
[When maids with easy lips consent]
When maids with easy lips consent
To feed us all on Cupid's pillage,
And daring eyes are fondly bent
On strangers even in the village,
'Twere well to pack, my masters, pack—
Forget the road, and ne'er come back!
To feed us all on Cupid's pillage,
And daring eyes are fondly bent
On strangers even in the village,
'Twere well to pack, my masters, pack—
Forget the road, and ne'er come back!
But if our fate is not to miss
Some lovely slip among the brambles,
Who pouts away the proffered kiss
When resting from our woodland rambles,
Let others trudge, my masters, trudge—
Here's one wise fool who will not budge!
Some lovely slip among the brambles,
Who pouts away the proffered kiss
When resting from our woodland rambles,
Let others trudge, my masters, trudge—
Here's one wise fool who will not budge!
103
A SONG OF THANKS
Leaning from my window
In the fragrant air
Chantings morn and evening,
Melodies I hear;
For the beak that's yellow
Sings me without fear
Lyrics in the lilacs,
Lyrics in the pear.
In the fragrant air
Chantings morn and evening,
Melodies I hear;
For the beak that's yellow
Sings me without fear
Lyrics in the lilacs,
Lyrics in the pear.
In the roaring city
Sparrows' voices lend
Something of the country
To the hearts that spend
Season after season
There, and never hear
Blackbirds in the apple,
Blackbirds in the pear.
Sparrows' voices lend
Something of the country
To the hearts that spend
104
There, and never hear
Blackbirds in the apple,
Blackbirds in the pear.
But my orchard yonder
Is an orchestra;
Birds and leaves and breezes
Make in concert there
Music of enchantment
Country folks may hear,
Lyrics in the plum-tree,
Lyrics in the pear.
Is an orchestra;
Birds and leaves and breezes
Make in concert there
Music of enchantment
Country folks may hear,
Lyrics in the plum-tree,
Lyrics in the pear.
105
THE TRAVELLER'S SONG
Whilst Laura lingers by my side
With all her woman's help and graces,
Nor ever is the look denied
She pours upon our children's faces,
Equal to Fate my soul shall prove—
Sirs, take my pence, but not my love!
With all her woman's help and graces,
Nor ever is the look denied
She pours upon our children's faces,
Equal to Fate my soul shall prove—
Sirs, take my pence, but not my love!
But if her whims and altered brow
Should stifle joy, and tart responses
Be fruit of faith and marriage vow,
Or blows bethump the youngsters' sconces,
Come, pleasant chance, to lure her hence—
Sirs, take my love, but not my pence!
Should stifle joy, and tart responses
Be fruit of faith and marriage vow,
Or blows bethump the youngsters' sconces,
Come, pleasant chance, to lure her hence—
Sirs, take my love, but not my pence!
110
LAST WORDS
Of you, dear friends, who come to tend
A dying man with final love,
I ask but this—that none may seek
Me purer than I was to prove.
A dying man with final love,
I ask but this—that none may seek
Me purer than I was to prove.
Strive not with anxious pen to make
Some follies pose as good and sage;
Nor with the knife of tenderness
Scratch out the blots upon my page.
Some follies pose as good and sage;
Nor with the knife of tenderness
Scratch out the blots upon my page.
Oh, as I lie and idly count
The paper roses on the wall,
Of all my eyes begin to see
This is the clearest sight of all—
The paper roses on the wall,
Of all my eyes begin to see
This is the clearest sight of all—
118
That sometimes when my chance was come
To speak a helpful word and kind,
My hasty tongue too often served
The early promptings of my mind.
To speak a helpful word and kind,
My hasty tongue too often served
The early promptings of my mind.
If ever word of dying man
Can long direct the friends who stay,
Leave larger issues to your God,
But trebly guard the instant day.
Can long direct the friends who stay,
Leave larger issues to your God,
But trebly guard the instant day.
The cultivation of your souls
May warp you as you sit apart!
March out into the light and heal
(For all can heal) some broken heart.
May warp you as you sit apart!
March out into the light and heal
(For all can heal) some broken heart.
Think of yourselves as those in whom
The gift of miracles is set;
For in his circle each can work
These miracles. Do not forget!
The gift of miracles is set;
For in his circle each can work
These miracles. Do not forget!
119
So when you hide me in the earth,
And put aside my vacant chair,
Do not be prone to polish o'er
The faults I pray you not to spare.
And put aside my vacant chair,
Do not be prone to polish o'er
The faults I pray you not to spare.
But thinking clearly what I was,
Review the history of my days,
And if you smile on any deeds
I may be grateful for your praise.
Review the history of my days,
And if you smile on any deeds
I may be grateful for your praise.
Write:—He had made a finer man
And left increased renown behind,
If he had only shut his books
To read the chapters of mankind!
And left increased renown behind,
If he had only shut his books
To read the chapters of mankind!
For, prisoned 'mid his lexicons,
He paced along a narrow way,
His life contracting, till he grew
Less human-hearted day by day.
He paced along a narrow way,
His life contracting, till he grew
Less human-hearted day by day.
120
So when the chance of changing tears
To brilliant smiles was lent to him,
The mood was foreign from his mind,
The energy was strangely dim.
To brilliant smiles was lent to him,
The mood was foreign from his mind,
The energy was strangely dim.
Wherefore upon his bed of death,
His eyes with boundless vision wide,
He ministered to other souls
With wisdom until then denied;
His eyes with boundless vision wide,
He ministered to other souls
With wisdom until then denied;
Knowing the crown of penitence
Was not alone a vague regret,
But rather, the activity
Of teaching others to forget
Was not alone a vague regret,
But rather, the activity
Of teaching others to forget
(Since a late learner, growing mute,
May not remain to purge his heart)
The cluster of remembrances
That pander to the selfish part.
May not remain to purge his heart)
The cluster of remembrances
That pander to the selfish part.
121
Long was I careless of my path,
Till Faith descended broad and bright;
And looking out across the world
I felt a spirit in the light,
Till Faith descended broad and bright;
And looking out across the world
I felt a spirit in the light,
And in a forest-temple found
The impulse of a great desire
To rear an altar, and to burn
My heart in sacrificial fire.
The impulse of a great desire
To rear an altar, and to burn
My heart in sacrificial fire.
But this was only yesterday,
And ere you pluck my altered fruits
The axe in Death's unswerving hands
Is laid against my stronger roots!
And ere you pluck my altered fruits
The axe in Death's unswerving hands
Is laid against my stronger roots!
Yet I, if I have done aright,
Though straying from the usual road,
May meet with willing love to ease
My shoulders of their heavy load,
Though straying from the usual road,
May meet with willing love to ease
My shoulders of their heavy load,
122
Howe'er it be, I go in peace,
A man whose lips have been desired;
A man who held his Love a space,
Then lost her. I am very tired.
A man whose lips have been desired;
A man who held his Love a space,
Then lost her. I am very tired.
123
L'ENVOI
O mother, if the lyric god
Have touched my lips with country song,
Or if these simple airs are caught
From Music as she sings along
I care not, so their piping find
A comfort for your heart and mind.
Have touched my lips with country song,
Or if these simple airs are caught
From Music as she sings along
I care not, so their piping find
A comfort for your heart and mind.
O sweet for mothers growing old
To know their boys approach success!
And sweet for me if what I bring
Can flood your face with tenderness—
Can well-nigh make you hear again
Birds warbling in a Surrey lane.
To know their boys approach success!
And sweet for me if what I bring
Can flood your face with tenderness—
Can well-nigh make you hear again
Birds warbling in a Surrey lane.
| Country muse | |