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 | Song in September |  |
1
A RESEMBLANCE
As Orpheus flower and fern
Called to his knees,
And by delicious tones
Ravished the trees,
Forcing the oaks and poplars high,
Lissom as maids, to change their sky;
Called to his knees,
And by delicious tones
Ravished the trees,
Forcing the oaks and poplars high,
Lissom as maids, to change their sky;
So April's lovelier voice
Calls to the birds.
Hearing delicious tones,
Ravishing words,
Pipits with tiny cousins fly,
Nimble as dreams, to change their sky.
Calls to the birds.
Hearing delicious tones,
Ravishing words,
Pipits with tiny cousins fly,
Nimble as dreams, to change their sky.
20
THE CHEATED LOVER
How sharp a punishment to bear
Alone this beauty of the pear
That, dressed for bridal, bids me think
Of her whose robes are blue and pink!
Alone this beauty of the pear
That, dressed for bridal, bids me think
Of her whose robes are blue and pink!
Would she but imitate the pear,
And on her lovely body wear
The bridal clothes at last for me,
How gay this shadowed heart could be!
And on her lovely body wear
The bridal clothes at last for me,
How gay this shadowed heart could be!
When comes the gloaming she will give
Fair reasons for my life to live,
And yet will beg to have the bliss
Of staying Cupid's chrysalis.
Fair reasons for my life to live,
And yet will beg to have the bliss
Of staying Cupid's chrysalis.
Remember, Clovermaid, how fair
A frock this tree is glad to wear,
And scorn to let a rival shine
Through veilings lovelier than thine!
A frock this tree is glad to wear,
And scorn to let a rival shine
Through veilings lovelier than thine!
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TO A SNOWDROP
Wert thou as warm as thou art white,
Then would'st thou seem the perfect friend
For me to gather ere the night
Invokes her dewiness, and send
To her upon whose bosom's swell
The sisters, Warmth and Whiteness, dwell.
Then would'st thou seem the perfect friend
For me to gather ere the night
Invokes her dewiness, and send
To her upon whose bosom's swell
The sisters, Warmth and Whiteness, dwell.
But it were sacrilege to give
A gift less radiant than the place
Where beds of breathing snowdrops live
And wonder how my exiled face
Endures so long to lose the sight
Of them, and lilies just as white.
A gift less radiant than the place
Where beds of breathing snowdrops live
And wonder how my exiled face
Endures so long to lose the sight
Of them, and lilies just as white.
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THE GREAT BEECH
With heart disposed to memory, let me stand
Near this monarch and this minstrel of the land,
Now that Dian leans so lovely from her car.
Illusively brought near by seeming falsely far,
In yon illustrious summit sways the tangled evening star.
Near this monarch and this minstrel of the land,
Now that Dian leans so lovely from her car.
Illusively brought near by seeming falsely far,
In yon illustrious summit sways the tangled evening star.
From trembling towers of greenery there heaves
In glorious curves a precipice of leaves.
Superbly rolls thy passionate voice along,
Withstander of the tempest, grim and strong,
When at the wind's imperative thou burstest into song.
In glorious curves a precipice of leaves.
Superbly rolls thy passionate voice along,
Withstander of the tempest, grim and strong,
When at the wind's imperative thou burstest into song.
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Still must I love thy gentle music most,
Utterly innocent of challenge or of boast,
And playmate of the sun's adoring beam.
Close kindred to thy softer tremblings seem
The sighs of her I covet, when she kindles in a dream.
Utterly innocent of challenge or of boast,
And playmate of the sun's adoring beam.
Close kindred to thy softer tremblings seem
The sighs of her I covet, when she kindles in a dream.
Oft at thy branching altar have I knelt,
Searched for the secret, and thy lesson spelt
Before the athletes of the night had done
Their starry toil and joyous beams had run
To melt that ancient silversmith who loves the set of sun.
Searched for the secret, and thy lesson spelt
Before the athletes of the night had done
Their starry toil and joyous beams had run
To melt that ancient silversmith who loves the set of sun.
When Spring was budding in my heart anew,
Thy prayer for foliage soared into the blue.
Within thy branches myriad children heard:
Pale were their lips and fingers as they stirred
And promised leafiness enough to tempt thy favourite bird.
Thy prayer for foliage soared into the blue.
Within thy branches myriad children heard:
Pale were their lips and fingers as they stirred
And promised leafiness enough to tempt thy favourite bird.
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Quick was the wonder to amaze my sight:
Where stood the leafless suppliant towered a knight
Green to the helm and touching lips with May!
Far on the hill the wheatstalks stopped from play
To call across the valley love to leaves more fine than they.
Where stood the leafless suppliant towered a knight
Green to the helm and touching lips with May!
Far on the hill the wheatstalks stopped from play
To call across the valley love to leaves more fine than they.
Then wert thou vocal, hospitable king!
Safe in thy heart the birds were glad to sing,
For dove and stormcock to thy breast had come;
And at the perfect hour a moony foam
And starlight fell upon the thrush that made thy bosom home.
Safe in thy heart the birds were glad to sing,
For dove and stormcock to thy breast had come;
And at the perfect hour a moony foam
And starlight fell upon the thrush that made thy bosom home.
As gentle gatherer of the weary wing,
Happy to quaff from the eternal spring
That damps the woodwren's feather-swollen breast,
Thou lendest to my heart a deeper rest,
Working with priceless balm a miracle for thy guest.
Happy to quaff from the eternal spring
That damps the woodwren's feather-swollen breast,
Thou lendest to my heart a deeper rest,
Working with priceless balm a miracle for thy guest.
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On thee, in green and sunshine greatly stoled,
Thy kindred of the undulating wold
Obeisance, as befits their stature, spend:
Sweet is the embassy, with wind for friend,
When lofty limes of Todenham Church their fragrant homage send.
Thy kindred of the undulating wold
Obeisance, as befits their stature, spend:
Sweet is the embassy, with wind for friend,
When lofty limes of Todenham Church their fragrant homage send.
Rightly they worship. Rightly comes the maid
To look for love beneath thy bounteous shade;
Rightly as these the village children haste,
And with their sunburned fingers interlaced
Fasten a living girdle round thy cool and stalwart waist.
To look for love beneath thy bounteous shade;
Rightly as these the village children haste,
And with their sunburned fingers interlaced
Fasten a living girdle round thy cool and stalwart waist.
For games and grief thou hast an equal heart,
Giving to all petitioners the needed part.
Often I ask the shape of him who fled
To drink of knowledge at the fountain-head:
He pulses in the shadow as a fugitive from the dead.
Giving to all petitioners the needed part.
Often I ask the shape of him who fled
To drink of knowledge at the fountain-head:
He pulses in the shadow as a fugitive from the dead.
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Old noble of the county, once we twain
Beneath thy roof discoursed of bliss and pain;
And, looking upward for the star Content,
Laughed deep at soul to watch the sunbeams sent
In coveys glittering all along the field of firmament.
Beneath thy roof discoursed of bliss and pain;
And, looking upward for the star Content,
Laughed deep at soul to watch the sunbeams sent
In coveys glittering all along the field of firmament.
If ever the travelled spirit can return
Where once in earthly bliss 'twas proud to burn
In hard-won triumph over resolute clay,
'Tis here my friend shall fold his wings and stay
To fill my unforgetting heart with tremulous holiday.
Where once in earthly bliss 'twas proud to burn
In hard-won triumph over resolute clay,
'Tis here my friend shall fold his wings and stay
To fill my unforgetting heart with tremulous holiday.
The tryst is here. Brother, I shall not fail
Whether in summer's ripeness, winter's hail.
Come most in Autumn's sympathetic charms,
When opal hazes touch the red-roofed farms,
And in the night the beech-tree holds the red moon in his arms.
Whether in summer's ripeness, winter's hail.
Come most in Autumn's sympathetic charms,
When opal hazes touch the red-roofed farms,
And in the night the beech-tree holds the red moon in his arms.
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And tell me, Brother, if the shining plan
Of resurrection chooses only man;
If every friend of plain and upland dies.
For I would have this turreted tree arise
To lord it over beeches in the forest of Paradise.
Of resurrection chooses only man;
If every friend of plain and upland dies.
For I would have this turreted tree arise
To lord it over beeches in the forest of Paradise.
Fast in the ample chamber of his bole
There dwells, perchance, an unintelligible soul
Destined to tower in some celestial wold,
Where you and I, conversing as of old,
May watch the Alps of Heaven become as mountains made of gold.
There dwells, perchance, an unintelligible soul
Destined to tower in some celestial wold,
Where you and I, conversing as of old,
May watch the Alps of Heaven become as mountains made of gold.
Or bend to watch how cunningly the Earth
Tangles our kin in webs of tears and mirth,
And soils them even as they fly the stain;
And, seeing this, may find that Heaven is vain
To keep earth-broken hearts from breaking in Heaven again
Tangles our kin in webs of tears and mirth,
And soils them even as they fly the stain;
And, seeing this, may find that Heaven is vain
To keep earth-broken hearts from breaking in Heaven again
Till shines the hour when Home is truly Home,
With all the brave and dear familiars come:
Assembled ripely in the lustrous sheaf
Of Love, and radiant in divine relief
From Joy that used to spoil the earth by whispering to Grief.
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Assembled ripely in the lustrous sheaf
Of Love, and radiant in divine relief
From Joy that used to spoil the earth by whispering to Grief.
63
THE REVIEW
One Sabbath, just as eve was come,
When musings all were sleepy-fair,
Sunshiny Wakefulness ran home
And left me dreaming in my chair.
When musings all were sleepy-fair,
Sunshiny Wakefulness ran home
And left me dreaming in my chair.
At once I searched among the flowers
Of Heaven to find my mother's face:
By beds of musk, in lilac bowers,
And near laburnums' golden grace.
Of Heaven to find my mother's face:
By beds of musk, in lilac bowers,
And near laburnums' golden grace.
I could not. Then I dreamed I woke
With trouble aching in my brain,
Till on my startled vision broke
A sight to make me young again;
With trouble aching in my brain,
Till on my startled vision broke
A sight to make me young again;
For radiant in the window-seat
My mother sat with downward look
Intently reading (how unmeet
For eyes so fair!) my latest book.
My mother sat with downward look
Intently reading (how unmeet
For eyes so fair!) my latest book.
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At last, when all the book was read,
She gave a happy little nod,
Drooped lower still her gracious head,
Kissed it, and faded back to God.
She gave a happy little nod,
Drooped lower still her gracious head,
Kissed it, and faded back to God.
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THE HIDDEN WEALTH
Adam and Eve together stood
Amid the crop they both were tending,
While far away the feathery wood
Of Eden in the wind was bending.
Amid the crop they both were tending,
While far away the feathery wood
Of Eden in the wind was bending.
And Adam, feeling in his veins
The better for his splendid tussle,
Laughed at his body for its pains,
And showed to Eve his hardening muscle.
The better for his splendid tussle,
Laughed at his body for its pains,
And showed to Eve his hardening muscle.
Fine was the bread his sweat had earned,
Despite the fields of rock and thistle,
While daily wounds and baulkings turned
His olden softness into gristle.
Despite the fields of rock and thistle,
While daily wounds and baulkings turned
His olden softness into gristle.
So, thinking deeply of the life
Of chartered idleness and blisses,
Sudden he seized his comely wife
And took her mouth by storm with kisses.
Of chartered idleness and blisses,
Sudden he seized his comely wife
And took her mouth by storm with kisses.
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‘Dear heart!’ he cried, ‘we fare the best
When earth and labour roughly grapple.
Who could have thought the only rest
Worth having, centred in an apple!’
When earth and labour roughly grapple.
Who could have thought the only rest
Worth having, centred in an apple!’
67
PAYMENT
Master of the orchard,
Pay me for the pears,
Render for my cherries
Star-delaying airs:
Pouring from the apple
Lyrical delight,
Warm the cheek of Evening,
Touch the heart of Night!
Pay me for the pears,
Render for my cherries
Star-delaying airs:
Pouring from the apple
Lyrical delight,
Warm the cheek of Evening,
Touch the heart of Night!
Master of the orchard,
Perching to rejoice,
How the sweet of childhood
Trembles in your voice!
Lo, the narrow garden
Misty at my feet!
Here a camp of crocus,
There a patch of wheat.
Perching to rejoice,
How the sweet of childhood
Trembles in your voice!
Lo, the narrow garden
Misty at my feet!
Here a camp of crocus,
There a patch of wheat.
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Master of the orchard,
Sing for me again
Blossoms of the homeland,
Grasses in the lane:
Sing my cottage cradle,
Sing my mother's eyes,
Sweeter than the dog-rose,
Bluer than the skies.
Sing for me again
Blossoms of the homeland,
Grasses in the lane:
Sing my cottage cradle,
Sing my mother's eyes,
Sweeter than the dog-rose,
Bluer than the skies.
Master of the orchard,
When again the Spring
Teaches you her ballads,
Gives the glossy wing,
Flit among the branches,
Pipe your jolly airs,
Fluting thanks for cherries,
Paying for the pears.
When again the Spring
Teaches you her ballads,
Gives the glossy wing,
Flit among the branches,
Pipe your jolly airs,
Fluting thanks for cherries,
Paying for the pears.
72
CUPID'S ARROW
Once I called him till he woke
From his dreamy resting
Underneath the giant oak
Where he stayed his questing:
Better had I flung my heart
In the June-bright river
Than have bared it for a dart
Out of such a quiver!
From his dreamy resting
Underneath the giant oak
Where he stayed his questing:
Better had I flung my heart
In the June-bright river
Than have bared it for a dart
Out of such a quiver!
Many years away have run
Since the Archer shot me,
Half in passion, half in fun,
Wounded and forgot me.
Safely now he falls asleep
Where my hands could take him;
For the arrow went so deep
That I dare not wake him.
Since the Archer shot me,
Half in passion, half in fun,
Wounded and forgot me.
Safely now he falls asleep
Where my hands could take him;
For the arrow went so deep
That I dare not wake him.
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THE MOWER'S VISION
The dawn was cradled in the skies
When from the hut beneath the hill
The mower came and turned his eyes
On sleepy grasslands by the mill.
He whistled as he strode along
A shrill good-morrow to the lark
That, linking earth to heaven with song,
Shook from his breast the tuneless dark.
‘Come, come,’ said Richard to his scythe,
‘What say you? Shall we mow, my lass?’
And so in royal weather
They swung as mates together
In dewy deeps of fragrant grass.
When from the hut beneath the hill
The mower came and turned his eyes
On sleepy grasslands by the mill.
He whistled as he strode along
A shrill good-morrow to the lark
That, linking earth to heaven with song,
Shook from his breast the tuneless dark.
‘Come, come,’ said Richard to his scythe,
‘What say you? Shall we mow, my lass?’
And so in royal weather
They swung as mates together
In dewy deeps of fragrant grass.
As Richard mowed, his father's corn
Whispered and curtsied in his way;
There rose the farm where he was born,
And one sweet bush of double-may.
Once more, beside the ancient clock,
He heard in rustic piety
His mother share with all her flock
The old brown Bible on her knee.
‘Come, come,’ said Richard to his scythe,
‘What say you? Shall we rest, my lass?
And so in ruddy weather
They sat them down together,
And viewed long lanes of fallen grass.
Whispered and curtsied in his way;
There rose the farm where he was born,
And one sweet bush of double-may.
Once more, beside the ancient clock,
He heard in rustic piety
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The old brown Bible on her knee.
‘Come, come,’ said Richard to his scythe,
‘What say you? Shall we rest, my lass?
And so in ruddy weather
They sat them down together,
And viewed long lanes of fallen grass.
And, musing there beside his blade,
The dreamer saw a flowery cot
Where lived (ah! wounds of love!) the maid
That knew his hope, but loved him not.
He watched her lips in wonder part;
His brother entered proud and blithe;
And as she kissed him, Richard's heart
Fell in a tear upon his scythe.
‘Come, come,’ said Richard drearily,
‘What say you? Shall we mow, my lass?’
And so in cloudy weather
They swung and sighed together
Along the graveyard of the grass.
The dreamer saw a flowery cot
Where lived (ah! wounds of love!) the maid
That knew his hope, but loved him not.
He watched her lips in wonder part;
His brother entered proud and blithe;
And as she kissed him, Richard's heart
Fell in a tear upon his scythe.
‘Come, come,’ said Richard drearily,
‘What say you? Shall we mow, my lass?’
And so in cloudy weather
They swung and sighed together
Along the graveyard of the grass.
75
TO CANTERBURY BELLS
Many blossoms to my breast
Make a sweet appeal:
Lily with the snowy crest,
Solomon his seal.
Glad am I in spring to learn
All the violet tells;
But of all the coloured host
You, fair friends, I love the most,
Ringing bells, singing bells,
Canterbury Bells!
Make a sweet appeal:
Lily with the snowy crest,
Solomon his seal.
Glad am I in spring to learn
All the violet tells;
But of all the coloured host
You, fair friends, I love the most,
Ringing bells, singing bells,
Canterbury Bells!
Through the days of innocence
Marvel was my food;
Then I stormed the angry fence
Scowling round the wood:
Not for daffodils I searched
In the warmer dells,
But I sought the wood-king bold
In his helm of beaten gold,
Gleaming bells, dreaming bells,
Canterbury Bells!
Marvel was my food;
Then I stormed the angry fence
Scowling round the wood:
Not for daffodils I searched
In the warmer dells,
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In his helm of beaten gold,
Gleaming bells, dreaming bells,
Canterbury Bells!
When the forest made my heart
Quiver in despair,
Sad because its leafiest part
Hid no warrior there,
Mother taught me all the hedge,
Took me to the fells,
Filled my hands with deep delights—
Petalled monarchs, flowering knights—
Swaying bells, playing bells,
Canterbury Bells!
Quiver in despair,
Sad because its leafiest part
Hid no warrior there,
Mother taught me all the hedge,
Took me to the fells,
Filled my hands with deep delights—
Petalled monarchs, flowering knights—
Swaying bells, playing bells,
Canterbury Bells!
In her garden she would stroke
Cage and cup of blue,
While with joyful love she spoke,
Homeland bells, of you.
Even now her voice (it flows
From remembered wells)
Pours within my ears the praise
Poured on you in happier days,
Blowy bells, snowy bells,
Canterbury Bells!
Cage and cup of blue,
While with joyful love she spoke,
Homeland bells, of you.
Even now her voice (it flows
From remembered wells)
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Poured on you in happier days,
Blowy bells, snowy bells,
Canterbury Bells!
That was long ago. Her end
Like a blossom shows.
Never shall the Gardener tend
Such another rose.
God be thanked, her spotless soul
In a heaven dwells
Where her brow is cooled by trees
And your kindred kiss her knees,
Calling bells, falling bells,
Canterbury Bells!
Like a blossom shows.
Never shall the Gardener tend
Such another rose.
God be thanked, her spotless soul
In a heaven dwells
Where her brow is cooled by trees
And your kindred kiss her knees,
Calling bells, falling bells,
Canterbury Bells!
78
THE OLD PIANO
The old piano must not go
As rubbish to an upper-room,
Where crippled sofas, tables, chairs
With dust and spiders stand in gloom.
Beautiful maids and lordly lads
And grandsires grey together give
A treasure to the instrument,
A lavender that needs must live.
As rubbish to an upper-room,
Where crippled sofas, tables, chairs
With dust and spiders stand in gloom.
Beautiful maids and lordly lads
And grandsires grey together give
A treasure to the instrument,
A lavender that needs must live.
To boys and girls the instrument
Has stood for misery and fears;
And even now the ivory shows
The smudges made of dirt and tears.
While the lank spinster, full of starch,
On knuckles rapped with frequent force,
The children past the quavers looked
To bears and Indians in the gorse.
Has stood for misery and fears;
And even now the ivory shows
The smudges made of dirt and tears.
While the lank spinster, full of starch,
On knuckles rapped with frequent force,
The children past the quavers looked
To bears and Indians in the gorse.
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The lad of twenty made the tramp
Of regiments pass along the keys;
He looked across the world and saw
The blood of England stain the leas:
Sudden the scarlet horsemen poured
In thousands down the ivory lane,
The flag in front, and shouting hurled
The wild-eyed foe across the plain.
Of regiments pass along the keys;
He looked across the world and saw
The blood of England stain the leas:
Sudden the scarlet horsemen poured
In thousands down the ivory lane,
The flag in front, and shouting hurled
The wild-eyed foe across the plain.
The old piano knew the sweet
Bewildering of the maid's unrest
Before with tears and sighs she found
An Eden on her mother's breast.
'Twas in a summerhouse of sound
She trembled to the touch of bliss,
And felt her heart of pearbloom take
The arrow of her lover's kiss.
Bewildering of the maid's unrest
Before with tears and sighs she found
An Eden on her mother's breast.
'Twas in a summerhouse of sound
She trembled to the touch of bliss,
And felt her heart of pearbloom take
The arrow of her lover's kiss.
The woman never blessed to bend
Above a cradle sweetly filled
Unrobed in melody the babes
That flocked the keyboard as she willed:
Lullabies wooed to perfect sleep
The children called from fairyland,
As patiently she covered up
The little chest, the little hand.
Above a cradle sweetly filled
Unrobed in melody the babes
That flocked the keyboard as she willed:
Lullabies wooed to perfect sleep
The children called from fairyland,
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The little chest, the little hand.
At evenfall a bride has played
A son or daughter on the notes,
And stitched in cadences a stock
Of pinafores and tiny coats;
Has in the treble set a maid,
And in the alto put a boy,
With evening pauses, lark-like trills,
And octaves bursting out of joy.
A son or daughter on the notes,
And stitched in cadences a stock
Of pinafores and tiny coats;
Has in the treble set a maid,
And in the alto put a boy,
With evening pauses, lark-like trills,
And octaves bursting out of joy.
The old piano must not go
As rubbish to an upper-room,
Where crippled sofas, tables, chairs
With dust and spiders stand in gloom:
Surely it joins of infancy
And age the sleep-defended poles,
This rosewood colony of shapes
Too fragile even to be souls.
As rubbish to an upper-room,
Where crippled sofas, tables, chairs
With dust and spiders stand in gloom:
Surely it joins of infancy
And age the sleep-defended poles,
This rosewood colony of shapes
Too fragile even to be souls.
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THE WORST
Nightly, bereft of Mercy's beam,
I dreamed the thrice-bewildering dream
That shakes the turrets of my brain
Beneath a tempest of disdain.
I dreamed the thrice-bewildering dream
That shakes the turrets of my brain
Beneath a tempest of disdain.
At last the lamp of mercy burned:
Away from wretchedness I turned,
And in a Canaan of delight
Found grapes and honey rush to sight.
Away from wretchedness I turned,
And in a Canaan of delight
Found grapes and honey rush to sight.
My bed a miracle confessed!
For in it breathed a girlish breast,
And on my pillow blossomed fair
The face that never can be there.
For in it breathed a girlish breast,
And on my pillow blossomed fair
The face that never can be there.
‘Are you awake?’ I said to her;
‘Are you awake, my Lavender?’
But as I spoke, from dreamland's mesh
The girl flew back again to flesh.
‘Are you awake, my Lavender?’
But as I spoke, from dreamland's mesh
The girl flew back again to flesh.
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Then loud I cried to Agony,
‘Take not thy sport by maiming me!
Pierce with the thrice-bewildering dart,
But never show that lovely heart!’
‘Take not thy sport by maiming me!
Pierce with the thrice-bewildering dart,
But never show that lovely heart!’
86
TO CHRISTOPHER
Barely have you made a start
On the road that I have travelled
Leagues and leagues toward the part
Where its meaning is unravelled,
Christopher.
On the road that I have travelled
Leagues and leagues toward the part
Where its meaning is unravelled,
Christopher.
As I hold you, bathed and gowned,
While your mother's happy face is
Sign enough that you have found
Here on earth a sweet oasis,
While your mother's happy face is
Sign enough that you have found
Here on earth a sweet oasis,
I am thinking of that night
When the Virgin was unable
Otherwhere to ease her plight
Than within a narrow stable;
When the Virgin was unable
Otherwhere to ease her plight
Than within a narrow stable;
When the startled oxen near
Wondered at the strange declaring
Of the beam, so more than clear,
Jesu's little brow was wearing.
Wondered at the strange declaring
Of the beam, so more than clear,
Jesu's little brow was wearing.
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On the birthday of the Lord,
You, a rush of joy compelling,
Came to bring the full accord
Love allows where love is dwelling.
You, a rush of joy compelling,
Came to bring the full accord
Love allows where love is dwelling.
Thus it is I think of Him
On His Mother's bosom lying
In a stable cold and dim,
Hearing love, but not replying.
On His Mother's bosom lying
In a stable cold and dim,
Hearing love, but not replying.
Surely Joseph, kneeling there
In the litter to caress Him,
Must have pledged his heart to bear
All it could to help and bless Him.
In the litter to caress Him,
Must have pledged his heart to bear
All it could to help and bless Him.
Thinking this, I vow to stand
Near your side when you are older,
Just to steady with my hand
Any cross upon your shoulder.
Near your side when you are older,
Just to steady with my hand
Any cross upon your shoulder.
Ah, I feel the man in me
Almost woman while I press you
Close against the soul to be
Happy only if it bless you,
Christopher!
Almost woman while I press you
Close against the soul to be
Happy only if it bless you,
Christopher!
93
WITH A ROSE
Take it and wear it!
If it were half as sweet
As the breast to bear it,
Even for you,
I could hardly spare it.
If it were half as sweet
As the breast to bear it,
Even for you,
I could hardly spare it.
Reigning, 'twill wonder
Deep at your lake-like eyes;
At its image under
Sparkles and mist;
And your heart's low thunder.
Deep at your lake-like eyes;
At its image under
Sparkles and mist;
And your heart's low thunder.
Thus shall this rose's
Home be an exquisite home,
Where the Spring ne'er closes
The snowdrop's life,
And herself reposes.
Home be an exquisite home,
Where the Spring ne'er closes
The snowdrop's life,
And herself reposes.
94
Take it and wear it!
When it has kissed the heart
I desire to bear it,
Send it me back,
That our breasts may share it.
When it has kissed the heart
I desire to bear it,
Send it me back,
That our breasts may share it.
95
AT VARLEY
As my sunny self went homing
In the loveliness of gloaming
Through the hedges looking over
Little continents of clover,
Nought to me was all the treasure
Kings and Emperors can measure,
Since the Child Beloved was waiting
For my heart's tumultuous mating
There at Varley.
In the loveliness of gloaming
Through the hedges looking over
Little continents of clover,
Nought to me was all the treasure
Kings and Emperors can measure,
Since the Child Beloved was waiting
For my heart's tumultuous mating
There at Varley.
Near the honeysuckle's wreathing
(Hardly sweeter is the breathing
Of the Child Beloved) a wonder
Took my heart with Cupid's thunder,
And my veins were all a-filling
With a kind of precious thrilling
That compelled my lips to rushes
Of a song as ripe as thrush's
In the evening.
(Hardly sweeter is the breathing
Of the Child Beloved) a wonder
Took my heart with Cupid's thunder,
And my veins were all a-filling
With a kind of precious thrilling
That compelled my lips to rushes
Of a song as ripe as thrush's
In the evening.
96
Then I guessed her come from Varley
By the field-path through the barley
To the roadway's leafy turning,
There with Love and frolic burning.
How my arms went fire-fast round her
When beside the thorn I found her
In the old blue muslin waiting
For my heart's tumultuous mating
Close to Varley!
By the field-path through the barley
To the roadway's leafy turning,
There with Love and frolic burning.
How my arms went fire-fast round her
When beside the thorn I found her
In the old blue muslin waiting
For my heart's tumultuous mating
Close to Varley!
97
THE SHAME
While Love on him was playing
In bounty from above,
I heard a rich man saying
He had no time for love!
In bounty from above,
I heard a rich man saying
He had no time for love!
Had not this shame been spoken
Too oft by foolish men,
I think God's heart had broken
To hear it uttered then.
Too oft by foolish men,
I think God's heart had broken
To hear it uttered then.
To rise with love at morning,
Go home with love at night,
Is still the best adorning
To keep the bosom bright.
Go home with love at night,
Is still the best adorning
To keep the bosom bright.
101
A SONG
[Give me to hold]
Give me to hold
That lovely, lovely hand,
Violet-veined and lily-white,
Fairest in the land!
Give me to hold
That lovely, lovely hand;
For Cupid, pouting, swears that he
Lipped none so soft in Arcady.
That lovely, lovely hand,
Violet-veined and lily-white,
Fairest in the land!
Give me to hold
That lovely, lovely hand;
For Cupid, pouting, swears that he
Lipped none so soft in Arcady.
Give me to kiss
That honied, honied mouth,
Cupid-curved and tremulous,
Spicier than the South!
Give me to kiss
That honied, honied mouth,
And I will count Apollo's joy,
Had Daphne stumbled, but a toy!
That honied, honied mouth,
Cupid-curved and tremulous,
Spicier than the South!
Give me to kiss
That honied, honied mouth,
And I will count Apollo's joy,
Had Daphne stumbled, but a toy!
102
Give me to share
That haunting, haunting breast
Snow allied with lavender,
Resting-place of Rest!
Give me to share
That haunting, haunting breast,
And I will laugh to think how Love
Gave only crumbs of bliss to Jove.
That haunting, haunting breast
Snow allied with lavender,
Resting-place of Rest!
Give me to share
That haunting, haunting breast,
And I will laugh to think how Love
Gave only crumbs of bliss to Jove.
103
THE BALANCE
Once I was a woodlad
A million years ago;
And once you were a woodgirl
A million years ago.
Though Memory wearies to unwind
The darkling story from her mind,
The words are few and stiff and slow,
Because of trances in the grave.
But yet she whispers, it was well
(Very well—ah, very well!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
A million years ago;
And once you were a woodgirl
A million years ago.
Though Memory wearies to unwind
The darkling story from her mind,
The words are few and stiff and slow,
Because of trances in the grave.
But yet she whispers, it was well
(Very well—ah, very well!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
Dreaming in the woodland,
I taste the Long Ago—
The berries and the honey
A million years ago.
The air is quivering while you grace
With scented grass our resting-place;
And knowing naught, I seem to know
The bird I snared to bring a smile
Upon our boy's enchanting face
(Our little son's delicious face!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
I taste the Long Ago—
The berries and the honey
A million years ago.
104
With scented grass our resting-place;
And knowing naught, I seem to know
The bird I snared to bring a smile
Upon our boy's enchanting face
(Our little son's delicious face!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
Dimly in the woodland
There come from Long Ago
The shadows of my blisses
A million years ago:
Beneath a starry coverlet
True love against my heart is set
In flow of joy, and overflow
Too lovely not to have its price.
To-day we pay with lashes wet
(Would God that only mine were wet!)
For what we held as woodlad
(Remember, Love!) and woodgirl
A million years ago.
There come from Long Ago
The shadows of my blisses
A million years ago:
Beneath a starry coverlet
True love against my heart is set
In flow of joy, and overflow
Too lovely not to have its price.
To-day we pay with lashes wet
(Would God that only mine were wet!)
For what we held as woodlad
(Remember, Love!) and woodgirl
A million years ago.
115
THE FRECKLES
To others leave
The cunning care of speckles;
Why should'st thou grieve
To have a hundred freckles?
The cunning care of speckles;
Why should'st thou grieve
To have a hundred freckles?
They suit so well,
'Twere sad indeed to miss them,
Or not to tell
The number as I kiss them.
'Twere sad indeed to miss them,
Or not to tell
The number as I kiss them.
If Beauty fails
Her charms and traps to vary
Herself she stales,
And loses the unwary.
Her charms and traps to vary
Herself she stales,
And loses the unwary.
The golden flakes,
By thee denounced as stupid,
Enhance the lakes
Where swims a childlike Cupid.
By thee denounced as stupid,
Enhance the lakes
Where swims a childlike Cupid.
116
From white to white's
A journey less entrancing
Than one whose lights
With various tints are glancing.
A journey less entrancing
Than one whose lights
With various tints are glancing.
Be sure this nest
Of freckles for my praising
But gives thy breast
A clearness more amazing!
Of freckles for my praising
But gives thy breast
A clearness more amazing!
117
UNMELTED
Ask me not, Friend, to ramble from the books
Sounding with birds and freshets of the Spring;
For all along the landscape show the signs
Of Winter's playmate roaring in the pines,
And Frost, his wand uplifted, darkly stills
The river deep in dreams of June-bright mills.
Not yet the snow is melted on the hills.
Sounding with birds and freshets of the Spring;
For all along the landscape show the signs
Of Winter's playmate roaring in the pines,
And Frost, his wand uplifted, darkly stills
The river deep in dreams of June-bright mills.
Not yet the snow is melted on the hills.
So with the maid whom most of all I need.
Lovely in ignorance, she calmly views
The torrents in my eyes and thinks them pools
Where Simpleness her brow in lustre cools.
There's waiting to be done, my heart, ere fills
Her frost-bound breast with discomposing thrills!
Not yet the snow is melted on the hills.
Lovely in ignorance, she calmly views
The torrents in my eyes and thinks them pools
Where Simpleness her brow in lustre cools.
There's waiting to be done, my heart, ere fills
Her frost-bound breast with discomposing thrills!
Not yet the snow is melted on the hills.
131
FAIR FORTUNE
Where merchantman with merchant meets,
To bandy terms of more and less,
Came Laura through the London streets
In earth-delighting heavenliness.
To bandy terms of more and less,
Came Laura through the London streets
In earth-delighting heavenliness.
The sun, by her compelled to shine,
Made up a posy of his heat,
And bared his face. She wanted mine,
And searched for me along the street.
Made up a posy of his heat,
And bared his face. She wanted mine,
And searched for me along the street.
At last she flushed the selfsame pink
I'd kissed her to, twelve hours ago,
And halted, giddy on the brink
Of joy her bosom ached to know.
I'd kissed her to, twelve hours ago,
And halted, giddy on the brink
Of joy her bosom ached to know.
And as with gradual warmth she thrilled,
And Love half-listened to Desire,
She pressed against my side and filled
My every vein with happy fire.
And Love half-listened to Desire,
She pressed against my side and filled
My every vein with happy fire.
132
Then, while I watched this girl adorn
The street, as swans adorn a lake,
I thanked Apollo I was born
A minstrel for her lovely sake.
The street, as swans adorn a lake,
I thanked Apollo I was born
A minstrel for her lovely sake.
133
THE LOVER TO HIS DEAD MISTRESS
Night after night, Eurydice, I tremble at thy homing
To pillows long deserted, with lips and hands forbidden:
I cannot bear the agonies that scorch me at thy coming
With so little beauty showing, with so much of beauty hidden!
To pillows long deserted, with lips and hands forbidden:
I cannot bear the agonies that scorch me at thy coming
With so little beauty showing, with so much of beauty hidden!
To hear thee breathing by the bed, to feel thy fingers stroking
The nest thy body sweetened once, is peril near to madness.
Sleep in thy grave, Eurydice, by memories invoking,
Nor work so bitterly to give a double-edge to sadness.
The nest thy body sweetened once, is peril near to madness.
Sleep in thy grave, Eurydice, by memories invoking,
Nor work so bitterly to give a double-edge to sadness.
134
Have I not bought the sullen ground that waits for me above thee,
In promise of the summer when they bring to thee my starkness?
Keep in thy grave, Eurydice, remembering how I love thee,
Nor break me on the wheel at night by breathing in the darkness!
In promise of the summer when they bring to thee my starkness?
Keep in thy grave, Eurydice, remembering how I love thee,
Nor break me on the wheel at night by breathing in the darkness!
145
THE PUZZLED THRUSH
For sure there's something in my bones to-day
That makes my body restless as a breeze,
And drives me, whimsical, from spray to spray
In search of what is never in the trees.
The rosy goodwife's bunching snowdrops took
Me steadily by charm a fortnight since,
But now the garden is a fevered nook—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat on the quince.
That makes my body restless as a breeze,
And drives me, whimsical, from spray to spray
In search of what is never in the trees.
The rosy goodwife's bunching snowdrops took
Me steadily by charm a fortnight since,
But now the garden is a fevered nook—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat on the quince.
I asked the cocksure Robin if he knew
The kind of ailment bubbling in my breast.
He flung his noddle backward, eyed the blue,
And puffed the scarlet jersey on his chest:
‘My precious hobbledehoy’ quoth he, ‘'tis March!
Expect a pang, for Love is in the air.’
On this he chased Robina to a larch—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat in the pear.
The kind of ailment bubbling in my breast.
He flung his noddle backward, eyed the blue,
And puffed the scarlet jersey on his chest:
‘My precious hobbledehoy’ quoth he, ‘'tis March!
Expect a pang, for Love is in the air.’
On this he chased Robina to a larch—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat in the pear.
146
'Tis true I've wanted very much all day
To know where Nancy Nonesuch has removed,
And why she's changed her January way
Of suffering me beside her unreproved.
Ah! There she stands in sunshine at the brink
Of yonder thread of stream, with eyes more bright
Than water's self! The dear! I think—I think
(So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat) Robin's right!
To know where Nancy Nonesuch has removed,
And why she's changed her January way
Of suffering me beside her unreproved.
Ah! There she stands in sunshine at the brink
Of yonder thread of stream, with eyes more bright
Than water's self! The dear! I think—I think
(So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat) Robin's right!
147
TO MY MOTHER
The more I live, the more I look
Amazedly behind,
Astonished by the pains you took
To help my early mind;
Amazedly behind,
Astonished by the pains you took
To help my early mind;
Astonished by the bitter-sweet
Insistence of the dart
With which you fought me, to defeat
Old mischiefs in my heart;
Insistence of the dart
With which you fought me, to defeat
Old mischiefs in my heart;
Astonished by the load of smiles,
Of prayers, of secret tears,
You must have dropped along the miles
That led to Twenty Years;
Of prayers, of secret tears,
You must have dropped along the miles
That led to Twenty Years;
Astonished by the radiant truth
My inward sight can see—
That you would give your angel-youth
To fall from heaven for me.
My inward sight can see—
That you would give your angel-youth
To fall from heaven for me.
154
TRUTH IN SILENCE
I have made you a song, my dear,
Because I love you;
Because there is nobody here
In the world above you:
It is only a simple song
Of a heart's deep pining
To have the hidden revealed
By a constant shining.
Because I love you;
Because there is nobody here
In the world above you:
It is only a simple song
Of a heart's deep pining
To have the hidden revealed
By a constant shining.
But a shadow of truth, my dear,
Is seen when I find you
Suddenly turned to me here
As I step behind you:
Though the lips have never a word,
Thank Love for the token
Unwarily kept! It is more
Than a silence broken.
Is seen when I find you
Suddenly turned to me here
As I step behind you:
Though the lips have never a word,
Thank Love for the token
Unwarily kept! It is more
Than a silence broken.
155
TO A BLACKBIRD
Deep in the lilac,
Pulsing with tune,
Richly you warble
Promise of June.
Brother, you call me
Out to the Spring,
Even as Blondel
Called to the King.
Pulsing with tune,
Richly you warble
Promise of June.
Brother, you call me
Out to the Spring,
Even as Blondel
Called to the King.
Blondel sang England,
Dear and desired;
Blondel sang England,
Leafily shired.
Then was the prison
Broken by words
Smelling of cowslips,
Flashing with birds!
Dear and desired;
Blondel sang England,
Leafily shired.
Then was the prison
Broken by words
Smelling of cowslips,
Flashing with birds!
156
Now, as I labour,
Weary for play,
England you carol,
England in May.
Seems it that Blondel,
Vanquishing death,
Lives in your bosom,
Sings with your breath.
Weary for play,
England you carol,
England in May.
Seems it that Blondel,
Vanquishing death,
Lives in your bosom,
Sings with your breath.
Here at my window
Surely you sing
Double the sweetness
Heard by the King:
Deep in the lilac,
Merrily met,
Blackbird and Blondel
Sing a duet!
Surely you sing
Double the sweetness
Heard by the King:
Deep in the lilac,
Merrily met,
Blackbird and Blondel
Sing a duet!
157
THE SHEPHERD'S SONG
Marry me, marry me, Nancy!
Come, settle you down and be cheery!
Too long have you kept me aching,
Too long have you held me weary.
Since there's not on the moorland a shepherd
To love you so heartily, Deary,
Marry me, marry me, marry me,
Settle you down and be cheery!
Come, settle you down and be cheery!
Too long have you kept me aching,
Too long have you held me weary.
Since there's not on the moorland a shepherd
To love you so heartily, Deary,
Marry me, marry me, marry me,
Settle you down and be cheery!
Marry me, marry me, Nancy!
Let's settle us down and be double!
'Tis time we were Christianly handfast
And out of this starving trouble.
Since you mope for no handsomer shepherd
To burn with a kissing, my Deary,
Sign to the long-tailed parson,
Settle you down and be cheery!
Let's settle us down and be double!
'Tis time we were Christianly handfast
And out of this starving trouble.
Since you mope for no handsomer shepherd
To burn with a kissing, my Deary,
Sign to the long-tailed parson,
Settle you down and be cheery!
158
See in my grandmother's teapot
Ten metal-made buttercups blowing!
So long as I've loved you, Nancy,
So long have these flowers been growing.
Since there's not in the valley a shepherd
Can keep you so feather-fine, Deary,
Make me your man at the altar,
Settle you down and be cheery!
Ten metal-made buttercups blowing!
So long as I've loved you, Nancy,
So long have these flowers been growing.
Since there's not in the valley a shepherd
Can keep you so feather-fine, Deary,
Make me your man at the altar,
Settle you down and be cheery!
162
SPION KOP
Five minutes more, O Honey of my heart,
Although it be the cradle-hour,
And sleep be growing like a flower
From out the nursery floor!
Five minutes more,
To feel the agony of tenderness
Shake all the spires and belfries of my soul!
The very ropes are singing; the very stones are ringing
As I tremble at thy brightness, as I flutter at thy mouth,
And ache with fearful happiness, Star of my bosom's south!
Although it be the cradle-hour,
And sleep be growing like a flower
From out the nursery floor!
Five minutes more,
To feel the agony of tenderness
Shake all the spires and belfries of my soul!
The very ropes are singing; the very stones are ringing
As I tremble at thy brightness, as I flutter at thy mouth,
And ache with fearful happiness, Star of my bosom's south!
Five minutes more, O Honey of my heart,
Although it be the cradle-hour,
And petals from the sleeping-flower
Begin to strew the floor!
Five minutes more,
To clasp a kingdom in thy slenderness,
Warming by thee thy father in his grave.
Not wholly have they slain him; thy borrowings contain him,
For I stroke him on thy forehead, from thy lips his lips come forth,
Thou wound and cure together! Thou rainbow of my north!
Although it be the cradle-hour,
And petals from the sleeping-flower
Begin to strew the floor!
Five minutes more,
163
Warming by thee thy father in his grave.
Not wholly have they slain him; thy borrowings contain him,
For I stroke him on thy forehead, from thy lips his lips come forth,
Thou wound and cure together! Thou rainbow of my north!
164
THE ROBIN
Bird of the scarlet breast,
Whose genius is not hidden,
But, though by Winter chidden,
Preserves a glorious zest,
Could I but sing as thou
Upon my heart's bare bough!
Whose genius is not hidden,
But, though by Winter chidden,
Preserves a glorious zest,
Could I but sing as thou
Upon my heart's bare bough!
Could I, when storms of grief
Have buffeted and shaken,
Be never so forsaken
But that of song the leaf,
The bud, the flower, should dress
My other nakedness!
Have buffeted and shaken,
Be never so forsaken
But that of song the leaf,
The bud, the flower, should dress
My other nakedness!
Could I from youth to age
Remember to enclose thee,
And all thy wisdom shows me,
Within my bosom's cage,
Keeping as balm for smart
A redbreast in my heart!
Remember to enclose thee,
And all thy wisdom shows me,
Within my bosom's cage,
Keeping as balm for smart
A redbreast in my heart!
167
THE WELCOME
Upon his couch, with body spoiled,
Year after year the sick man lay,
And, forcing Courage onward, toiled
To help the helpers of his way.
Year after year the sick man lay,
And, forcing Courage onward, toiled
To help the helpers of his way.
If Mercy passed the simple cot,
Or Anguish entered by surprise,
Within his heart he kept a grot
For Cheerfulness, and lifted eyes
Or Anguish entered by surprise,
Within his heart he kept a grot
For Cheerfulness, and lifted eyes
That never ceased to offer Pain
A battleground (Ah, sacred room,
For those who loved him you remain
A temple sweet with holy bloom!)
A battleground (Ah, sacred room,
For those who loved him you remain
A temple sweet with holy bloom!)
At heart of night in middle May,
Soundless as if on moss he stepped,
The powerful Reaper thrust his way
Past all who knelt and prayed and wept.
Soundless as if on moss he stepped,
The powerful Reaper thrust his way
Past all who knelt and prayed and wept.
168
From glazing eyes a welcome sped
Was lovelier than the loveliest star,
As brokenly the sufferer said,
‘Why, Friend, how—very late—you are!
Was lovelier than the loveliest star,
As brokenly the sufferer said,
‘Why, Friend, how—very late—you are!
169
THE CHILD ASLEEP
Lilybabe, you want to go
To a world away from mother
Where the velvet waters flow
Soundlessly to one another
Through enchanted Faraway.
Evening eyelids, evening breast,
Tell me you must wander west
In a maze of mystery,
While, methinks, your lips confess
Neither breath nor breathlessness,
Lilybabe.
To a world away from mother
Where the velvet waters flow
Soundlessly to one another
Through enchanted Faraway.
Evening eyelids, evening breast,
Tell me you must wander west
In a maze of mystery,
While, methinks, your lips confess
Neither breath nor breathlessness,
Lilybabe.
Glad were I to see you go,
Lilybabe, upon this travel,
Could the water noisier flow
Over beds of ruby gravel
In the streams of Faraway.
But heartbreakingly you lie
Past the power to move or sigh,
Till my very spirit bleeds
From the fear that Wonder's foam
Never more will drift you home,
Lilybabe.
Lilybabe, upon this travel,
Could the water noisier flow
Over beds of ruby gravel
In the streams of Faraway.
But heartbreakingly you lie
170
Till my very spirit bleeds
From the fear that Wonder's foam
Never more will drift you home,
Lilybabe.
171
THE REFUGE
Home again to Birdlip!
Cries the heart, the heart
Aching in the thunder
Of the gloomy mart—
Home again to Birdlip
And the quivering breast
Honeyful, honeyful
In the west.
Cries the heart, the heart
Aching in the thunder
Of the gloomy mart—
Home again to Birdlip
And the quivering breast
Honeyful, honeyful
In the west.
Home again to Birdlip
And the golden musk
Breathing at the window
In the dewy dusk—
Home again to Birdlip
And the pulsing night
Bosomful, bosomful
Of delight!
And the golden musk
Breathing at the window
In the dewy dusk—
Home again to Birdlip
And the pulsing night
Bosomful, bosomful
Of delight!
174
THE APPEAL
If you had been in Birdsey Wood
Last Wednesday afternoon,
Where, frocked in muslin, once you stood
As April breathing June,
You might have thought that near the glade
Beyond the Druids' stone
You heard Pan trolling in the shade
His vigorous baritone.
Last Wednesday afternoon,
Where, frocked in muslin, once you stood
As April breathing June,
You might have thought that near the glade
Beyond the Druids' stone
You heard Pan trolling in the shade
His vigorous baritone.
For there I lay along the moss
And sang to ancient skies
A ballad heavy with the loss
I suffer when your eyes
Reveal to lads in other shires
Blue limpidness, and teach
Their heart the burden of desires
That run away from speech.
And sang to ancient skies
A ballad heavy with the loss
I suffer when your eyes
Reveal to lads in other shires
Blue limpidness, and teach
Their heart the burden of desires
That run away from speech.
175
Ah, come, my dear! The baby oak
We measured by your length
Is waiting for your hands to stroke
His bark and thrill his strength.
Come, with a sob, to find the place
Where long ago you stood,
And fill my arms with pulsing grace
Once more in Birdsey Wood!
We measured by your length
Is waiting for your hands to stroke
His bark and thrill his strength.
Come, with a sob, to find the place
Where long ago you stood,
And fill my arms with pulsing grace
Once more in Birdsey Wood!
176
WEARY HEART AND WEARY HEAD
To Weary Heart cried weary Head,
‘Sweeter the day if I were dead,
For I have called farewell to Christ,
And every joy is over-priced:
Each precious and inspiring friend
Already knows the graveyard end,
And round me bitterness is shed,’
To Weary Heart cried Weary Head.
‘Sweeter the day if I were dead,
For I have called farewell to Christ,
And every joy is over-priced:
Each precious and inspiring friend
Already knows the graveyard end,
And round me bitterness is shed,’
To Weary Heart cried Weary Head.
To Weary Head cried Weary Heart,
‘He made the balm who made the smart.
Though sundered ever from the breast
Where throbs my lilied chance of rest,
And though I languish every day
That Agony shall have her play,
Handlocked with Hope I bear my part,’
To Weary Head cried Weary Heart.
‘He made the balm who made the smart.
Though sundered ever from the breast
Where throbs my lilied chance of rest,
And though I languish every day
That Agony shall have her play,
Handlocked with Hope I bear my part,’
To Weary Head cried Weary Heart.
177
VITAL MOMENTS
When Eve looked close at her son, and saw
A shadowy Adam alive on his face,
Then, with a beauty was better than law,
Lovely Fidelity flowered in the place.
A shadowy Adam alive on his face,
Then, with a beauty was better than law,
Lovely Fidelity flowered in the place.
When Adam moved from his Love, to scan
Across the river the beckoning brake,
Then was the birth of adventurous man
Dicing with Death for Uncertainty's sake.
Across the river the beckoning brake,
Then was the birth of adventurous man
Dicing with Death for Uncertainty's sake.
When Abel lay in the noontide heat,
A clod by the altar, bloody and lorn,
Then did the Christ on his Heavenly seat
Taste of the vinegar, groan in the thorn.
A clod by the altar, bloody and lorn,
Then did the Christ on his Heavenly seat
Taste of the vinegar, groan in the thorn.
178
TO A PROUD BEAUTY
The cloud that sails,
A silver lamb in blue,
Not long prevails
By innocence of hue.
A silver lamb in blue,
Not long prevails
By innocence of hue.
The stream that goes
Like violets melted there,
In rains and snows
Is neither blue nor fair.
Like violets melted there,
In rains and snows
Is neither blue nor fair.
The star that takes
The wilderness with joy
Time's hammer breaks,
The rods of heaven destroy.
The wilderness with joy
Time's hammer breaks,
The rods of heaven destroy.
Then be not proud
That beauty loves to wear
Thy face, thy cloud
Of king-compelling hair.
That beauty loves to wear
Thy face, thy cloud
Of king-compelling hair.
179
For like a dream
The loveliness shall pass:
A flash, a beam,
A breathing on the glass!
The loveliness shall pass:
A flash, a beam,
A breathing on the glass!
Thou dost not think
That June perceives the way
Toward the brink
Of beauty in decay;
That June perceives the way
Toward the brink
Of beauty in decay;
But thither tend
Thy bosom-breaking charms
Where Death shall bend
Thee backward in his arms!
Thy bosom-breaking charms
Where Death shall bend
Thee backward in his arms!
180
BABE OF BABES
The Child has opened His eyes
Where the ox is bound,
And yet is the truest king
In the wide world found.
Where the ox is bound,
And yet is the truest king
In the wide world found.
We all should bend on this day
To the Child of grace,
And lift Him out of the straw
To a better place.
To the Child of grace,
And lift Him out of the straw
To a better place.
For every heart is the home
He will best adorn,
Making a cradle of each
On this Christmas morn.
He will best adorn,
Making a cradle of each
On this Christmas morn.
181
THE LOSS
Ah, had'st thou either gone or stayed!
For often when I swiftly turn
I find thee in the olden chair;
Not mortal, and not half so fair
As when, in honest earth arrayed,
Thou wast the bosom of my care.
For often when I swiftly turn
I find thee in the olden chair;
Not mortal, and not half so fair
As when, in honest earth arrayed,
Thou wast the bosom of my care.
Ah, hadst thou either gone or stayed!
Less lovely as an angel, still
Thy loveliness so sharpens pain
That blood of grief renews its stain,
And suddenly my heart, afraid
Of being broken, breaks again.
Less lovely as an angel, still
Thy loveliness so sharpens pain
That blood of grief renews its stain,
And suddenly my heart, afraid
Of being broken, breaks again.
182
AN ENVOY TO THE BOOK
If you go for a thousand miles to the right,
And again for a thousand miles,
With your wavering star for single light,
And your soul half tears, half smiles;
Then over a hundred mountains go,
And into a hundred vales,
A pilgrim between the rose and the snow,
The eagles and nightingales;
And again for a thousand miles,
With your wavering star for single light,
And your soul half tears, half smiles;
Then over a hundred mountains go,
And into a hundred vales,
A pilgrim between the rose and the snow,
The eagles and nightingales;
Perhaps you will find in a thousand hours,
If you laugh at the need of rest,
The girl with the heart of breathing flowers
Too fair for a woman's breast.
If you home at last on her gentle knee,
By laces and muslins kissed,
I bid you a voluble blackcap be,
With songs of love-in-a-mist.
If you laugh at the need of rest,
The girl with the heart of breathing flowers
Too fair for a woman's breast.
If you home at last on her gentle knee,
By laces and muslins kissed,
I bid you a voluble blackcap be,
With songs of love-in-a-mist.
| Song in September | |