 | The Cup of Quietness |  |
TO
ROBERT MICHAEL SIMON, Kt., M.D.
IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF
A DEBT OF KINDNESS WHICH
CAN NEVER BE REPAID
1
PRELUDE
‘And, behold, the Lord passed by.’
When silent on the Mount of Song
I wait until the Lord pass by,
Not while the storm of thought is strong
The Maker draweth nigh;
I wait until the Lord pass by,
Not while the storm of thought is strong
The Maker draweth nigh;
Nor while, by pangs of earthquake torn,
Faith's ancient rocks asunder roll,
From inward agony is born
The secret of the soul;
Faith's ancient rocks asunder roll,
From inward agony is born
The secret of the soul;
When indignation's flash illumes
Hell's darkness, and the heart is hot
With fire that cleanses and consumes,
The Master cometh not.
Hell's darkness, and the heart is hot
With fire that cleanses and consumes,
The Master cometh not.
But when through woods the whispered word
Is passed, and in the breathing field
The beat of Nature's heart is heard,
Then is the Lord revealed.
Is passed, and in the breathing field
The beat of Nature's heart is heard,
Then is the Lord revealed.
2
Let others seek a stormy sign;
Not passion's trumpet is my choice;
Content if rather it be mine
To hear the still small voice.
Not passion's trumpet is my choice;
Content if rather it be mine
To hear the still small voice.
3
BROKEN MUSIC
Again the strange delight, the strange distress,
The wistful voice that calls from far away;
Again the after-sense of loneliness,
Of golden times turned grey.
The wistful voice that calls from far away;
Again the after-sense of loneliness,
Of golden times turned grey.
Solemn and lustreless the moon's full sphere
Ascends; a star keeps virgin watch on high;
The birch's lightest tress is pencilled clear
Against the naked sky.
Ascends; a star keeps virgin watch on high;
The birch's lightest tress is pencilled clear
Against the naked sky.
A breath of God makes pure the heart, and fills
Its secret places with a whispering;
Through all the air a sudden sweetness thrills—
The tremor of the Spring.
Its secret places with a whispering;
Through all the air a sudden sweetness thrills—
The tremor of the Spring.
The thrush's song throbs with it; all things take
A swift significance, a pathos deep;
The quickened spirit seems about to wake
From life's oppressive sleep;
A swift significance, a pathos deep;
The quickened spirit seems about to wake
From life's oppressive sleep;
4
Heights, that we long had struggled to achieve,
Seem close at hand and simple to attain;
The baffling mists of doubt dissolve, and leave
The heavenly landmarks plain;
Seem close at hand and simple to attain;
The baffling mists of doubt dissolve, and leave
The heavenly landmarks plain;
The beating heart is heard of songs unsung,
Faint echoes of some lost romance of youth,
And fragments of an old forgotten tongue—
The native speech of truth.
Faint echoes of some lost romance of youth,
And fragments of an old forgotten tongue—
The native speech of truth.
The light that makes the sordid beautiful,
The touch that turns our common clay to gold—
Alas! 'tis gone, and leaves the world more dull,
The darkened soul more cold.
The touch that turns our common clay to gold—
Alas! 'tis gone, and leaves the world more dull,
The darkened soul more cold.
Ah! not with men abides the voice divine;
All that our mortal ears avail to win
Is broken music, wafted from the shrine
Where none may enter in.
All that our mortal ears avail to win
Is broken music, wafted from the shrine
Where none may enter in.
5
ONE THING WANTING
Not for the gift of strength that cannot tire,
Not for a fuller, nobler, sphere of strife,
Nor purer draughts of joy, do I desire
An after life.
Not for a fuller, nobler, sphere of strife,
Nor purer draughts of joy, do I desire
An after life.
Here 'tis no paltry warfare; if death ends
The fight, then death is rest, and rest is gain;
And life had moments that made large amends
For all its pain.
The fight, then death is rest, and rest is gain;
And life had moments that made large amends
For all its pain.
Nor do I greatly long to see unfurled
The scroll of fate, the clouds dispelled from earth;
The shadow and the mystery of the world
Are half its worth.
The scroll of fate, the clouds dispelled from earth;
The shadow and the mystery of the world
Are half its worth.
One boon alone I covet, here denied,—
Commune of soul with soul, skill to remove
The veils that keep our lives apart and hide
The truth of love;
Commune of soul with soul, skill to remove
The veils that keep our lives apart and hide
The truth of love;
6
To feel from heart to heart emotions pass,
The deep content of spiritual embrace;
To see no longer darkly through a glass,
But face to face.
The deep content of spiritual embrace;
To see no longer darkly through a glass,
But face to face.
Love is a hunger never here appeased,
A question never answered; vainly speech
Pursueth; long ere love's intent be seized,
'Tis out of reach.
A question never answered; vainly speech
Pursueth; long ere love's intent be seized,
'Tis out of reach.
I fear no disenchantment; I would prove
That here things seem less precious than they are;
My faith is, that the hearts of those I love
Are greater far
That here things seem less precious than they are;
My faith is, that the hearts of those I love
Are greater far
Than thought can comprehend, or tongue express;
If death reveal love's truth, then I rejoice
To die; meanwhile a silent wistfulness
Is love's best voice.
If death reveal love's truth, then I rejoice
To die; meanwhile a silent wistfulness
Is love's best voice.
7
THE AGE OF IRON
Let faith and hope grown grey,
Confusion and decay
Mingle their tears,
And let oblivion weave an ample shroud;
The Age of Iron is faint to death and, bowed
Beneath the burden of his hundred years,
Sinketh on time's highway.
Confusion and decay
Mingle their tears,
And let oblivion weave an ample shroud;
The Age of Iron is faint to death and, bowed
Beneath the burden of his hundred years,
Sinketh on time's highway.
Farewell!—of all the ages that have run,
Most arrogant and swift,
Most fraught with care;
Behind thee cometh one
Eager of aspect, who will dare
Thy fallen load to lift
Of dreams fulfilled, of hopes undone,
Of triumph and despair.
Most arrogant and swift,
Most fraught with care;
Behind thee cometh one
Eager of aspect, who will dare
Thy fallen load to lift
Of dreams fulfilled, of hopes undone,
Of triumph and despair.
Gather the darkness round thee and depart,
Worn brain and weary heart;
Well hast thou striven, and unashamed may'st fare
To that high senate where thy fathers brood
O'er counsels of eternity,
Travails and tribulations long gone by,
And wonders unrevealed,
Hate's frenzy healed,
War vanquished, evil overcome with good,
Christ risen, and man's accomplished brotherhood.
Worn brain and weary heart;
8
To that high senate where thy fathers brood
O'er counsels of eternity,
Travails and tribulations long gone by,
And wonders unrevealed,
Hate's frenzy healed,
War vanquished, evil overcome with good,
Christ risen, and man's accomplished brotherhood.
Thy birth-cry was the crash
Of thrones, the people's wrath;
Dread and destruction o'er thy cradle hung;
And reason's lightning flash
Athwart thy doubtful path
The shadow of a tottering system flung;
Proudly thy manhood wore the bays
Of bloodless conquests; yet thy riper days
Saw not the prophet's promised life,
The nations leagued in peaceful strife,
But envious rivals, fearful of the clash
Of arms that ache with pent-up power;
And ever in thy dying ears hath rung
The laugh of them that live but to devour,
The cry of them that cower
Beneath the yoke of greed and want's remorseless lash.
Of thrones, the people's wrath;
Dread and destruction o'er thy cradle hung;
And reason's lightning flash
Athwart thy doubtful path
The shadow of a tottering system flung;
Proudly thy manhood wore the bays
Of bloodless conquests; yet thy riper days
Saw not the prophet's promised life,
The nations leagued in peaceful strife,
But envious rivals, fearful of the clash
Of arms that ache with pent-up power;
And ever in thy dying ears hath rung
The laugh of them that live but to devour,
The cry of them that cower
Beneath the yoke of greed and want's remorseless lash.
9
Of what avail to tame the levin's speed,
To hold the winds in leash and quell the waves,
If health no more be labour's meed,
If love be stifled, honour spurned,
And beauty crushed in Mammon's blind stampede?
What boots it to have turned
The soil's dull serfs to nervous factory-slaves,
If pain that stunts, if pleasure that depraves,
Hurry the haggard millions to their graves?
What gain to have been orphaned of our God,
To know, when worms destroy
Man's frame, his spirit lies beneath the sod,
If soul thereby be sacrificed to flesh,
If Christ be crucified each day afresh?
What profits it to heap
Hoard upon hoard in festering towns, and miss
The pure sky and the live air's kiss,
To weigh the stars and lack the wine of joy,
Outstrip the storm and lose the balm of sleep?
To hold the winds in leash and quell the waves,
If health no more be labour's meed,
If love be stifled, honour spurned,
And beauty crushed in Mammon's blind stampede?
What boots it to have turned
The soil's dull serfs to nervous factory-slaves,
If pain that stunts, if pleasure that depraves,
Hurry the haggard millions to their graves?
What gain to have been orphaned of our God,
To know, when worms destroy
Man's frame, his spirit lies beneath the sod,
If soul thereby be sacrificed to flesh,
If Christ be crucified each day afresh?
What profits it to heap
Hoard upon hoard in festering towns, and miss
The pure sky and the live air's kiss,
To weigh the stars and lack the wine of joy,
Outstrip the storm and lose the balm of sleep?
Gather the darkness round thee and depart,
Hot brain and restless heart;
We mourn thy death, but would not have thee stay;
Yet go not all in tears,
For through the incumbent gloom
Of thy vast cares, thy tribulation sore,
To watchful eyes at length appears
The dim uprising of a clearer day;
The shadows flee, and from the sealéd tomb
Where Christ lies stark and cold
The stone is slowly rolled;
The living Christ will dwell with men once more,
To fevered souls will tranquil strength restore,
Will quicken as of yore
The breathless clay,
Appease the waves of strife,
And pilot to the long-expected shore
The labouring bark of human life,
When we that grieve, with all that we deplore,
Have passed away.
Hot brain and restless heart;
We mourn thy death, but would not have thee stay;
Yet go not all in tears,
10
Of thy vast cares, thy tribulation sore,
To watchful eyes at length appears
The dim uprising of a clearer day;
The shadows flee, and from the sealéd tomb
Where Christ lies stark and cold
The stone is slowly rolled;
The living Christ will dwell with men once more,
To fevered souls will tranquil strength restore,
Will quicken as of yore
The breathless clay,
Appease the waves of strife,
And pilot to the long-expected shore
The labouring bark of human life,
When we that grieve, with all that we deplore,
Have passed away.
Let them whose faith is fled,
The dead, attend the dead;
But ye whose hope is fresh, whose love is young,
Go forth to greet the light
That kindles yonder height,
The dawn that seers have dreamed and poets sung;
Nor falter if the splendours ye discern
Wake but a weary smile in those
Who muse how fair the sun arose
Of their departing day,
Who marched beneath its dazzling fire,
And watched its setting glories burn
To ashen grey;
So, home returning from his toil, the sire
Wearily smiles to see his children play.
The dead, attend the dead;
But ye whose hope is fresh, whose love is young,
Go forth to greet the light
That kindles yonder height,
The dawn that seers have dreamed and poets sung;
Nor falter if the splendours ye discern
Wake but a weary smile in those
Who muse how fair the sun arose
11
Who marched beneath its dazzling fire,
And watched its setting glories burn
To ashen grey;
So, home returning from his toil, the sire
Wearily smiles to see his children play.
Poor emmets, to and fro we run,
Rejoice and are afraid,
While in the night of space sun beyond sun
Doth flash awhile and fade;
The ages come and go,
But there abideth One
Whom none hath made,
From Whom all things proceed,
To Whom they flow;
Giver of breath,
Taker of all that perisheth;
Who, evermore persisting, hath no need
For pause or speed;
Who is the First and Last,
To Whom there is no future and no past,
Nor birth nor death.
Rejoice and are afraid,
While in the night of space sun beyond sun
Doth flash awhile and fade;
The ages come and go,
But there abideth One
Whom none hath made,
From Whom all things proceed,
To Whom they flow;
Giver of breath,
Taker of all that perisheth;
Who, evermore persisting, hath no need
For pause or speed;
Who is the First and Last,
To Whom there is no future and no past,
Nor birth nor death.
12
TO MY LITTLE DAUGHTER
Sweet blossom, to my soul more dear
Than snowdrop to the darkened heart
Of winter; though with graver cheer
And weightier load,
Now that the rainbow dreams of youth depart,
I take the road
Than snowdrop to the darkened heart
Of winter; though with graver cheer
And weightier load,
Now that the rainbow dreams of youth depart,
I take the road
Which leads to that obscure defile
Where all ways meet, thou, little maid,
Dost all unconsciously beguile
The tedious way
With laughter, and my heavy toil dost aid
With thy light play.
Where all ways meet, thou, little maid,
Dost all unconsciously beguile
The tedious way
With laughter, and my heavy toil dost aid
With thy light play.
My purest joy, my tenderest care
And solace; ere God's deep designs
Revealed thee, dreams of flowing hair
And sunny eyes
And wild-rose cheeks, a music of soft lines,
Whose harmonies
And solace; ere God's deep designs
Revealed thee, dreams of flowing hair
And sunny eyes
And wild-rose cheeks, a music of soft lines,
Whose harmonies
13
Should utter all the grace of life,
Made hunger in my soul; but now
Wonder and worship are at strife;
The Maker's scheme
Outshines my brightest vision; darling, thou
Hast shamed my dream.
Made hunger in my soul; but now
Wonder and worship are at strife;
The Maker's scheme
Outshines my brightest vision; darling, thou
Hast shamed my dream.
I grudge the sorry years wherein
I had thee not; my breathless love,
In full pursuit, can scarcely win
The fleeting charms
Each day puts forth; so I would keep my dove
Caged in my arms.
I had thee not; my breathless love,
In full pursuit, can scarcely win
The fleeting charms
Each day puts forth; so I would keep my dove
Caged in my arms.
O linger in the fairyland
Of childhood; all too soon 'twill fade;
Too soon illusion's magic wand
Will break; too soon
The dayspring's fresh enchantment, little maid,
Will be high noon;
Of childhood; all too soon 'twill fade;
Too soon illusion's magic wand
Will break; too soon
The dayspring's fresh enchantment, little maid,
Will be high noon;
Too readily thou wilt unlearn
Thy lawless babble for the rule
Of our harsh speech, wilt feel time's stern
Old hand repress
Thy overweening innocence, and school
Each sweet excess.
Thy lawless babble for the rule
Of our harsh speech, wilt feel time's stern
Old hand repress
Thy overweening innocence, and school
Each sweet excess.
14
Yet would I not my bird's young wing
Should stay its flight; thou canst but change
From charm to charm, from childhood's Spring
To girlhood's May;
And I would learn thy beauty's utmost range;
I only pray
Should stay its flight; thou canst but change
From charm to charm, from childhood's Spring
To girlhood's May;
And I would learn thy beauty's utmost range;
I only pray
That I may live to see thee wear
The rose of perfect womanhood;
But lest wise Heaven deny my prayer,
And I must go
Before thy beauty's bud unfold, I would
That thou shouldst know,
The rose of perfect womanhood;
But lest wise Heaven deny my prayer,
And I must go
Before thy beauty's bud unfold, I would
That thou shouldst know,
In years to come, the watchful love
I longed to give thee; so I twine
This wreath, on some bright day to prove
Haply a pride,
In some dark hour a solace; sweet, 'tis thine,
Whate'er betide.
I longed to give thee; so I twine
This wreath, on some bright day to prove
Haply a pride,
In some dark hour a solace; sweet, 'tis thine,
Whate'er betide.
What though the long-deserted muse
Be jealous that for thee my lyre
Awakes, who art the dear excuse
For many a dream
Neglected?—Could the Muse herself desire
A happier theme?
Be jealous that for thee my lyre
Awakes, who art the dear excuse
For many a dream
Neglected?—Could the Muse herself desire
A happier theme?
15
And though thy wilful fancy preys
On my scant leisure, thou art more
Than poesy; thy sinless days
Breathe more than song;
To miss one lesson of the heavenly lore
Were grievous wrong.
On my scant leisure, thou art more
Than poesy; thy sinless days
Breathe more than song;
To miss one lesson of the heavenly lore
Were grievous wrong.
Thou still hast taught me, since the dawn
Of that May morning, when I stood
Joy-stricken on the dew-drenched lawn,
While all around
The great bird-chorus gathered to a flood
Of rapturous sound;
Of that May morning, when I stood
Joy-stricken on the dew-drenched lawn,
While all around
The great bird-chorus gathered to a flood
Of rapturous sound;
And mingled my full heart with theirs,
And, as the sun rose, sought again
The cradled answer to my prayers,
And met those eyes
Untroubled yet by joy, undimmed by pain,
So calm, so wise.
And, as the sun rose, sought again
The cradled answer to my prayers,
And met those eyes
Untroubled yet by joy, undimmed by pain,
So calm, so wise.
Since that strange sunrise, summers three;
Already 'mid thy smiles there hide
Some pretty tricks of coquetry;
Already gleams
The coming glory of thy maiden pride;
Soon will thy dreams
Already 'mid thy smiles there hide
Some pretty tricks of coquetry;
Already gleams
The coming glory of thy maiden pride;
Soon will thy dreams
16
Be moonlit with romance, the gold
Of thy young head be stained with brown;
Life's inmost petals will unfold,
Till, made aware
Of all thyself, thou 'lt find that beauty's crown
Has many a care.
Of thy young head be stained with brown;
Life's inmost petals will unfold,
Till, made aware
Of all thyself, thou 'lt find that beauty's crown
Has many a care.
Yes; in that perilous Spring-time
Tremble to think what queenly power
Thou hast in trust; so use thy prime
That love's pursuit
May prove a sacred quest; then shall life's flower
Yield noble fruit.
Tremble to think what queenly power
Thou hast in trust; so use thy prime
That love's pursuit
May prove a sacred quest; then shall life's flower
Yield noble fruit.
A traitress she to beauty's throne,
Whose pride it is to see hearts torn
With honest anguish, whilst her own
Beats false and cold.
The vulgar tinsel may'st thou ever scorn,
And prize the gold.
Whose pride it is to see hearts torn
With honest anguish, whilst her own
Beats false and cold.
The vulgar tinsel may'st thou ever scorn,
And prize the gold.
May Spring's first flush, the lark's first song
Make wine of thy young blood; the moon
Becalmed o'er autumn woods, the long
Slow thunder-roll
Of ocean, the heart-hush of summer noon
Enchant thy soul;
Make wine of thy young blood; the moon
Becalmed o'er autumn woods, the long
Slow thunder-roll
Of ocean, the heart-hush of summer noon
Enchant thy soul;
17
May sunrise be a festival,
Sunset a prayer; the peaceful breast
Of thy fair motherland enthrall
Thy wakening sense;
May it be thine to seek and hold the best
With love intense.
Sunset a prayer; the peaceful breast
Of thy fair motherland enthrall
Thy wakening sense;
May it be thine to seek and hold the best
With love intense.
May flowers be thy familiar friends,
The birds thy gossips, brook and breeze
Thy playmates; Nature best defends
From sordid cares,
Puts guile and vanity to shame, and frees
From worldly snares.
The birds thy gossips, brook and breeze
Thy playmates; Nature best defends
From sordid cares,
Puts guile and vanity to shame, and frees
From worldly snares.
This crowning grace may Heaven bestow—
An eager hand, a ready tear,
For others' need, for others' woe;
So shalt thou move
Encircled with a radiant atmosphere
Of joy and love.
An eager hand, a ready tear,
For others' need, for others' woe;
So shalt thou move
Encircled with a radiant atmosphere
Of joy and love.
18
A SOUTH-WESTER
All night the bold wind, drenched
With ocean's wine,
Earth's boisterous libertine,
Hath hustled the spent clouds and wrenched
The mountain pine.
With ocean's wine,
Earth's boisterous libertine,
Hath hustled the spent clouds and wrenched
The mountain pine.
The darkness gasps for breath,
The great trees fall,
Wildly the waters call
From drowning dales; he rioteth
More loud than all.
The great trees fall,
Wildly the waters call
From drowning dales; he rioteth
More loud than all.
The day dawns savagely;
He doth not shun
To meet the indignant sun,
But laughs in heaven's white face to see
The havoc done.
He doth not shun
To meet the indignant sun,
But laughs in heaven's white face to see
The havoc done.
19
He grasps the billow's mane;
The mad sea-horse
Bears him, without remorse,
In arctic slumber to regain
His squandered force.
The mad sea-horse
Bears him, without remorse,
In arctic slumber to regain
His squandered force.
20
A SUNSET
The day goes down
In unfamiliar state; the distant town
Dissolveth to a dream
Of golden domes and silver spires;
The sea becomes a lake of leaping fires,
The shore one gleam
Of liquid glory; veiled with crimson spray,
The solid headlands seem
Jewels alive with lights that pulse and play;
Till purple gloom engulfs the sun's last beam;
So dieth day.
In unfamiliar state; the distant town
Dissolveth to a dream
Of golden domes and silver spires;
The sea becomes a lake of leaping fires,
The shore one gleam
Of liquid glory; veiled with crimson spray,
The solid headlands seem
Jewels alive with lights that pulse and play;
Till purple gloom engulfs the sun's last beam;
So dieth day.
When love declines
On death's horizon-bound, the world's harsh lines
Relent; hope fading flings
Her farewell splendour as a pall
O'er life's storm-worn, forsaken strand; then all
Familiar things
Look strange; wild lights o'er memory's ocean move,
And mystic glimmerings;
The past assumes the colours of the dove,
Till all grows dim, and darkness spreads her wings;
So dieth love.
On death's horizon-bound, the world's harsh lines
Relent; hope fading flings
Her farewell splendour as a pall
O'er life's storm-worn, forsaken strand; then all
Familiar things
21
And mystic glimmerings;
The past assumes the colours of the dove,
Till all grows dim, and darkness spreads her wings;
So dieth love.
22
MAY
Fair maid, on whom all seasons wait
With gifts of grace, the month is here
That unto thee is consecrate—
The girlhood of the year.
With gifts of grace, the month is here
That unto thee is consecrate—
The girlhood of the year.
Awake! for dewy-fingered May
Hath gathered in her lap of green
The cowslip's tribute gold, to pay
To thee, her chosen queen.
Hath gathered in her lap of green
The cowslip's tribute gold, to pay
To thee, her chosen queen.
Since moonlight through thy casement stole,
The beauty of thy sleep to see,
The nightingale hath spent his soul
In serenading thee.
The beauty of thy sleep to see,
The nightingale hath spent his soul
In serenading thee.
Now sunbeams to thy lattice troop,
The solace of thy face to seek;
Though soft the young beech-leaves, they droop
With envy of thy cheek.
The solace of thy face to seek;
Though soft the young beech-leaves, they droop
With envy of thy cheek.
23
By that red blossom of thy mouth
The apple-bud was taught to bloom,
And thence the flower-caressing South
Hath stolen its perfume.
The apple-bud was taught to bloom,
And thence the flower-caressing South
Hath stolen its perfume.
To earth the bluebells bring the sky,
Because with blue thine eyes are bright;
In semblance of thy purity
The lanes are clothed in white.
Because with blue thine eyes are bright;
In semblance of thy purity
The lanes are clothed in white.
Thou sufferest the maiden year
To wear the mask of thee awhile;
But, ah! thou canst not lend her, dear,
The summer of thy smile.
To wear the mask of thee awhile;
But, ah! thou canst not lend her, dear,
The summer of thy smile.
And yet one glory May doth boast
Wherein all other glories meet—
For this I honour her the most—
She is thy namesake, sweet.
Wherein all other glories meet—
For this I honour her the most—
She is thy namesake, sweet.
24
SOLDIERS OF SPRING
What makes young Spring so glad?
He has put old Winter to flight
With his soldiery brave and bright,
Columns in purple clad,
Companies dressed in white,
Regiments eager and bold
In armour of gold.
He has put old Winter to flight
With his soldiery brave and bright,
Columns in purple clad,
Companies dressed in white,
Regiments eager and bold
In armour of gold.
By thousands from ambush teem
The crocus-troops;—they have won
The battle ere half begun;
See how their breastplates gleam
And their keen blades flash in the sun,
Who wide his gates doth fling
To the armies of Spring.
The crocus-troops;—they have won
The battle ere half begun;
See how their breastplates gleam
And their keen blades flash in the sun,
Who wide his gates doth fling
To the armies of Spring.
25
TO URTICA
Think not the sullen beauty of a brow
Bedimmed, or music of light mockery,
Or wild caprice of frolic maidenhood
Can fret my soul, bright lady; Spring, I trow,
Is not less winsome for her fitful eye,
But doth command my knee in every mood.
Bedimmed, or music of light mockery,
Or wild caprice of frolic maidenhood
Can fret my soul, bright lady; Spring, I trow,
Is not less winsome for her fitful eye,
But doth command my knee in every mood.
Not February's frank laugh and scornful frown,
Nor flashing bravery of boisterous March,
Nor cold-eyed April's petulance can chill
My faith; I know that May, with white-thorn crown,
Shall queen it 'neath the rainbow's triumph-arch,
That June the rosy promise must fulfil;
Nor flashing bravery of boisterous March,
Nor cold-eyed April's petulance can chill
My faith; I know that May, with white-thorn crown,
Shall queen it 'neath the rainbow's triumph-arch,
That June the rosy promise must fulfil;
However masked, I know the year's young heart
Beats true to that great impulse which gives birth
To flower and song, bids the bare woods array
Their limbs in splendour, bids the lark upstart
To tell the sunbeams of the joy of earth,
And all that makes the miracle of May.
Beats true to that great impulse which gives birth
To flower and song, bids the bare woods array
Their limbs in splendour, bids the lark upstart
To tell the sunbeams of the joy of earth,
And all that makes the miracle of May.
26
What though the needle quiver, and the wave
Inconstant sway; yet well the seaman knows,
Through sunless days and starless nights, his guide
Is faithful; and though baffling gusts may rave,
And thwarting currents vex his course, there flows
Beneath his keel the strong and silent tide.
Inconstant sway; yet well the seaman knows,
Through sunless days and starless nights, his guide
Is faithful; and though baffling gusts may rave,
And thwarting currents vex his course, there flows
Beneath his keel the strong and silent tide.
Tumult may shake, and poignant discords rend
The frame of Music; yet her inmost soul
Keeps unperturbed its peace; rash chords may cry
Against her law; yet all resolving blend
In beauty, paying under one control
Due homage to the rule of harmony.
The frame of Music; yet her inmost soul
Keeps unperturbed its peace; rash chords may cry
Against her law; yet all resolving blend
In beauty, paying under one control
Due homage to the rule of harmony.
So unto thee, fair potentate, is paid
Obeisance by thy rebel moods; they fling
Charms at thy feet; and as bluff March puts forth
The tender bud, so thou, impetuous maid,
Art loving as the secret heart of Spring,
And loyal as the needle to the North.
Obeisance by thy rebel moods; they fling
Charms at thy feet; and as bluff March puts forth
The tender bud, so thou, impetuous maid,
Art loving as the secret heart of Spring,
And loyal as the needle to the North.
27
HEPATICA
Most welcome, while the meagre East
Rebuffs the Spring, is thy brave face,
Dear nursling of the Alps, and least
Of all the windflower race.
Rebuffs the Spring, is thy brave face,
Dear nursling of the Alps, and least
Of all the windflower race.
Ere crocus-blades defend their gold,
Or woods are with thy kinsfolk white,
Thou beckonest thy comrades bold,
Snowdrop and aconite.
Or woods are with thy kinsfolk white,
Thou beckonest thy comrades bold,
Snowdrop and aconite.
Not Winter's tyranny can blanch
Thy cheek, or bruise thy buds of silk;—
Hast thou not heard the avalanche,
And quaffed the glacier-milk?
Thy cheek, or bruise thy buds of silk;—
Hast thou not heard the avalanche,
And quaffed the glacier-milk?
So to his face thou dost profess
Thy faith in Spring, and dost outrun
Thy very leaves in eagerness
To hail the insurgent sun.
Thy faith in Spring, and dost outrun
Thy very leaves in eagerness
To hail the insurgent sun.
28
A GUARDIAN ANGEL
Ambassadress from heaven to earth,
Priestess of all things pure and good,
The meekness of whose maidenhood
To Christ doth yet give birth;
Priestess of all things pure and good,
The meekness of whose maidenhood
To Christ doth yet give birth;
Could sickly sophistries confute
Thine eyes' celestial eloquence,
Weak man, the struggling slave of sense,
Would lapse again to brute.
Thine eyes' celestial eloquence,
Weak man, the struggling slave of sense,
Would lapse again to brute.
When passion beckons, not remorse,
Nor frown of stern philosophy,
Nor thundered code of Sinai
Avail to bar his course.
Nor frown of stern philosophy,
Nor thundered code of Sinai
Avail to bar his course.
But where the ways of men begin
To slope toward hell, an angel stands,
Whose silent lips and suppliant hands
Persuade him more than sin.
To slope toward hell, an angel stands,
Whose silent lips and suppliant hands
Persuade him more than sin.
29
O thou that makest Springtime sweet,
My love for thee is pure as prayer,
My kneeling soul doth hardly dare
To kiss thy gentle feet.
My love for thee is pure as prayer,
My kneeling soul doth hardly dare
To kiss thy gentle feet.
Spirit of dawn, whose breath divine
Doth bid the fiends of night depart,
Accept the worship of a heart
Whose holiest thought is thine;
Doth bid the fiends of night depart,
Accept the worship of a heart
Whose holiest thought is thine;
Nor deem my love idolatry,
For surely if the Son of God
Still walks the earth which once He trod,
'Tis hand in hand with thee.
For surely if the Son of God
Still walks the earth which once He trod,
'Tis hand in hand with thee.
30
TO A COQUETTE
Bright poison-flower, whereat who sips
For love's pure honey vainly sighs;
Hearing thee lie with those prim lips,
Seeing thee stab with those keen eyes,
For love's pure honey vainly sighs;
Hearing thee lie with those prim lips,
Seeing thee stab with those keen eyes,
Almost I would my fate were his
Who blindly flings his burning heart
At thy cold feet, so bitter 'tis
To know thee for the thing thou art;
Who blindly flings his burning heart
At thy cold feet, so bitter 'tis
To know thee for the thing thou art;
To know what subtle snares infest
Those trustful ways, what torments hide
For captured victims in that breast,
The marble home of heartless pride;
Those trustful ways, what torments hide
For captured victims in that breast,
The marble home of heartless pride;
To know an evil spirit works
In looks that seem so sweetly shy,
Beneath that cloak of kindness lurks
The coward steel of cruelty.
In looks that seem so sweetly shy,
Beneath that cloak of kindness lurks
The coward steel of cruelty.
31
Those simple words, those modest wiles
Are but the mask of proud desire;
A harlot—thou dost sell thy smiles,
With broken hearts of boys for hire;
Are but the mask of proud desire;
A harlot—thou dost sell thy smiles,
With broken hearts of boys for hire;
Thy soul's insatiate vanity
Must evermore be freshly fed
On bleeding youth; less guilty she
Who barters loveliness for bread,
Must evermore be freshly fed
On bleeding youth; less guilty she
Who barters loveliness for bread,
Than thou, who, donning love's disguise
To hide thy cruel lust, dost prey
On honest hearts, and serpent-wise
Dost only fascinate to slay.
To hide thy cruel lust, dost prey
On honest hearts, and serpent-wise
Dost only fascinate to slay.
O gifted with a power above
All powers, dost think God's bounteous will
Gave it that thou might'st murder love,
And, cat-like, torture ere thou kill?
All powers, dost think God's bounteous will
Gave it that thou might'st murder love,
And, cat-like, torture ere thou kill?
Down on thy knees, poor child, and pray
Thy beauty may not long survive
To swell the penance thou must pay
If thou would'st save thy soul alive.
Thy beauty may not long survive
To swell the penance thou must pay
If thou would'st save thy soul alive.
32
POTPOURRI
As roses, dreaming after death,
Embalmed within some curious urn,
Bewitch the air with subtle breath,
Till garden-visions haunt the brain,
The golden hours of love return,
And bygone summers glow again;
Embalmed within some curious urn,
Bewitch the air with subtle breath,
Till garden-visions haunt the brain,
The golden hours of love return,
And bygone summers glow again;
So when those rarer blossoms fade,
That sun their glories on thy cheek,
Their rich remembrance, beauteous maid,
Enshrined within the fragrant heart
Of some old-fashioned song, may speak
To souls unborn how sweet thou wert.
That sun their glories on thy cheek,
Their rich remembrance, beauteous maid,
Enshrined within the fragrant heart
Of some old-fashioned song, may speak
To souls unborn how sweet thou wert.
33
ON RECEIVING A PROSPECTUS OF THE SNOWDON SUMMIT RAILWAY AND HOTEL
Unthrone him; let the crowd's horse-laughter flout
Those solemn brows that commune with the sky;
Let nothing great preserve its privacy;
For, Snowdon once dishonoured, never doubt
Ben Nevis soon shall hear the rabble shout
Its last street-song, the vulgar hue and cry
Shall desecrate Helvellyn's sanctuary,
Scafell shall entertain a drunken rout.
Those solemn brows that commune with the sky;
Let nothing great preserve its privacy;
For, Snowdon once dishonoured, never doubt
Ben Nevis soon shall hear the rabble shout
Its last street-song, the vulgar hue and cry
Shall desecrate Helvellyn's sanctuary,
Scafell shall entertain a drunken rout.
No more its calm their high seclusion lends,
The fever of our restless life to heal;
A people with the mountains would be friends,
To whom their great reserve makes no appeal,
Whom height provokes and solitude offends—
A mob, that neither cares to climb or kneel.
The fever of our restless life to heal;
A people with the mountains would be friends,
To whom their great reserve makes no appeal,
Whom height provokes and solitude offends—
A mob, that neither cares to climb or kneel.
34
PASTEUR'S GRAVE
No cypress-shadowed churchyard, nor the gloom
Of haunted cloisters, doth immortalise
The dust of him, whose patience proved more wise
To save, than Death to slay. The busy loom
Glancing with silk, the teeming herd, the bloom
Of purpling vineyards, and the grateful eyes
Of souls reprieved at Death's most dread assize,
Shall make eternal gladness round his tomb.
Of haunted cloisters, doth immortalise
The dust of him, whose patience proved more wise
To save, than Death to slay. The busy loom
Glancing with silk, the teeming herd, the bloom
Of purpling vineyards, and the grateful eyes
Of souls reprieved at Death's most dread assize,
Shall make eternal gladness round his tomb.
Not 'mid the dead should he be laid asleep
Who wageth still with Death triumphant strife,
Who sowed the good that centuries shall reap,
And took its terror from the healer's knife;
Defender of the living, he shall keep
His slumber in the armoury of life.
Who wageth still with Death triumphant strife,
Who sowed the good that centuries shall reap,
And took its terror from the healer's knife;
Defender of the living, he shall keep
His slumber in the armoury of life.
35
WASTWATER
Recluse of lakes, whose dark tranquillity
No season moves; not to that valley blest
Where all that died of Wordsworth lies at rest,
Nor where the grace of Derwent glideth by,
Or Windermere receives the enamoured sky—
Not unto these, but unto thy stern breast,
And thine o'erclouded brows, the soul oppressed
With sorrow's burden comes for sympathy.
No season moves; not to that valley blest
Where all that died of Wordsworth lies at rest,
Nor where the grace of Derwent glideth by,
Or Windermere receives the enamoured sky—
Not unto these, but unto thy stern breast,
And thine o'erclouded brows, the soul oppressed
With sorrow's burden comes for sympathy.
For thou dost hold thy solemn state apart
From those familiar splendours; giants keep
Their vigil o'er thy solitude; weird forms
Of mist are gathered to thy troubled heart;
Sadly the sunbeams on thy bosom sleep;
Abode of gloom and congregated storms.
From those familiar splendours; giants keep
Their vigil o'er thy solitude; weird forms
Of mist are gathered to thy troubled heart;
Sadly the sunbeams on thy bosom sleep;
Abode of gloom and congregated storms.
36
GENTLE SHAKESPEARE
As one who hears the tide of traffic roll
Around the silent temple where he kneels,
Hears it but heeds it not, and only feels
The eternal harmonies enthral his soul;
Even so thy master-music doth control
The world's heart-wearying discordance, heals
The rankling wounds which pride or passion deals,
And makes the fever-stricken spirit whole.
Around the silent temple where he kneels,
Hears it but heeds it not, and only feels
The eternal harmonies enthral his soul;
Even so thy master-music doth control
The world's heart-wearying discordance, heals
The rankling wounds which pride or passion deals,
And makes the fever-stricken spirit whole.
O gentle Shakespeare—for by that kind name
Thy friends best knew thee—in these blatant days
Of shriller voices, meaner minds, we bless
The majesty of thine immortal fame,
Thy power and wisdom win our fervent praise,
But most of all we love thy gentleness.
Thy friends best knew thee—in these blatant days
Of shriller voices, meaner minds, we bless
The majesty of thine immortal fame,
Thy power and wisdom win our fervent praise,
But most of all we love thy gentleness.
37
OUT OF THE DARKNESS
How sorrowful o'er yonder shuddering meres
The mountains bow their heads; no signs remain
Of yesterday's brief gladness; winds complain
And waters wail to Heaven, that hath no ears
For Earth's repining; naught above appears
But restless grey; the valley, blind with rain,
Seemeth a sepulchre where joy lies slain,
The hermitage of woe, the home of tears.
The mountains bow their heads; no signs remain
Of yesterday's brief gladness; winds complain
And waters wail to Heaven, that hath no ears
For Earth's repining; naught above appears
But restless grey; the valley, blind with rain,
Seemeth a sepulchre where joy lies slain,
The hermitage of woe, the home of tears.
So the storm-laden brows of Fate o'erhang
Our troubled life; darkness and mystery
Reward our pleading. Yet, we trust, above
All doubt, all anguish—yea, the supreme pang
Of death itself—abides the eternal sky,
And sovereign influence of the sun of love.
Our troubled life; darkness and mystery
Reward our pleading. Yet, we trust, above
All doubt, all anguish—yea, the supreme pang
Of death itself—abides the eternal sky,
And sovereign influence of the sun of love.
38
ENGLAND'S ANSWER
[Christmas, 1895]
What frantic words are these from over sea?
Shall we, whose fathers in one womb have lain,
Disown our lineage, unearth again
With sacrilegious hands the sword? Shall we,
The nurselings of one mighty mother's knee,
Invoke upon our heads the curse of Cain,
Affront the sacred face of Peace, and stain
With kindred blood the brows of Liberty?
Brothers, not so! Our proudest sue to wear
The favours of your pearls of maidenhood;
Your cities boast our ancient names; we share
One mother-tongue, profess one faith in God.
Bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, forbear!
We love you, with a love as warm as blood.
The favours of your pearls of maidenhood;
Your cities boast our ancient names; we share
One mother-tongue, profess one faith in God.
Bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, forbear!
We love you, with a love as warm as blood.
39
IN CANDORE DECUS
Disarmed, but undefeated, low he lies
Whose steadfast courage manfully upbore
Honour's derided standard, 'mid the roar
Of vulgar passions and vainglorious cries
Of self-styled patriots. Not for him will rise
The long-expected day which shall restore
Her soul to England. That dear hope no more
May cheer the sorrow in those wistful eyes.
Whose steadfast courage manfully upbore
Honour's derided standard, 'mid the roar
Of vulgar passions and vainglorious cries
Of self-styled patriots. Not for him will rise
The long-expected day which shall restore
Her soul to England. That dear hope no more
May cheer the sorrow in those wistful eyes.
Yet is the sword unbroken that he drew;
Though feebler arms must wield it, Heaven will bless
The wilder brain, the weaker heart of youth,
If only they who guard his cause indue
The panoply he wore of righteousness,
The stainless beauty of the soul of truth.
Though feebler arms must wield it, Heaven will bless
The wilder brain, the weaker heart of youth,
If only they who guard his cause indue
The panoply he wore of righteousness,
The stainless beauty of the soul of truth.
40
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
Not Alpine!—Himalayan is the range
Of thy stupendous voice. Through every clime
Of passion mounting, where the mists of time
Girdle unconquered heights, above all change
Of seasons, thou dost fling to Heaven thy strange
Prodigious harmonies, that grandly chime
In pauses of the storm of sound, sublime
As thunder of descending avalange.
Of thy stupendous voice. Through every clime
Of passion mounting, where the mists of time
Girdle unconquered heights, above all change
Of seasons, thou dost fling to Heaven thy strange
Prodigious harmonies, that grandly chime
In pauses of the storm of sound, sublime
As thunder of descending avalange.
Thine are the giant leaps, o'er monstrous chasms,
From ledge to ledge; depths of abysmal gloom;
Rending of stubborn rocks by lightning-spasms.
Thine too the gently-sloping vales, where loom
Soft forms, the rainbow weaves her frail phantasms,
Butterflies toy, and fairy flowers bloom.
From ledge to ledge; depths of abysmal gloom;
Rending of stubborn rocks by lightning-spasms.
Thine too the gently-sloping vales, where loom
Soft forms, the rainbow weaves her frail phantasms,
Butterflies toy, and fairy flowers bloom.
41
Mid yonder pinnacles of ice, that hold
Communion with the silent hosts of heaven,
Where broods the eagle and where sleeps the levin,
Where first alights the day's young dream of gold,
There well the fountains, free and clear and cold,
Of music's mightiest flood, its pathway riven
By glacier-ploughs, till all its streams are driven
To where the runes of ocean are unrolled.
Communion with the silent hosts of heaven,
Where broods the eagle and where sleeps the levin,
Where first alights the day's young dream of gold,
There well the fountains, free and clear and cold,
Of music's mightiest flood, its pathway riven
By glacier-ploughs, till all its streams are driven
To where the runes of ocean are unrolled.
There is its power at large; the billows raise
The pæan which the sons of morning sang;
Deep in its bosom huge Behemoth plays,
The tempest tears its breast with granite fang;
Or, when the great tides slumber, placid bays
Reflect the snow-clad mountains whence it sprang.
The pæan which the sons of morning sang;
Deep in its bosom huge Behemoth plays,
The tempest tears its breast with granite fang;
Or, when the great tides slumber, placid bays
Reflect the snow-clad mountains whence it sprang.
42
Many the crownéd heads of music;—thou
Of song's wide realms art emperor alone;
No rival hath assailed that peerless throne,
Such splendour shines upon no other brow;
Poets before thy footstool pay their vow;
Thou keep'st a state whereat proud kings fall prone,
A majesty of music all thine own,
A sway to which the laureled masters bow.
Of song's wide realms art emperor alone;
No rival hath assailed that peerless throne,
Such splendour shines upon no other brow;
Poets before thy footstool pay their vow;
Thou keep'st a state whereat proud kings fall prone,
A majesty of music all thine own,
A sway to which the laureled masters bow.
To thee the lords of song ascribe their fame,
For thee the chiming spheres attune their fires;
To all the ends of earth thy glorious name
Resounds, while high in heaven immortal lyres
Salute thee, and the streets of gold acclaim
Thy worth with plaudits of celestial choirs.
For thee the chiming spheres attune their fires;
To all the ends of earth thy glorious name
Resounds, while high in heaven immortal lyres
Salute thee, and the streets of gold acclaim
Thy worth with plaudits of celestial choirs.
43
KISSES
As flame seeks flame to make one heart of fire,
As music is most sweet
When differing voices in one chord conspire,
So lips of lovers meet;
As music is most sweet
When differing voices in one chord conspire,
So lips of lovers meet;
One burning mantle, woven of delight,
Enfolds the girl and boy;
Their secret fills the universe, their sight
Reels with excess of joy;
Enfolds the girl and boy;
Their secret fills the universe, their sight
Reels with excess of joy;
Their lips have learnt the spell that can extort
Pure gold from clay; their kiss
Lingers, till all eternity seems short
To count their wealth of bliss;
Pure gold from clay; their kiss
Lingers, till all eternity seems short
To count their wealth of bliss;
Life seems a store of pleasure never spent,
Death but the price thereof,
The world a picture of their own content,
Limned by the Master, Love.
Death but the price thereof,
The world a picture of their own content,
Limned by the Master, Love.
44
Alas! that noon should drown morn's light and shade,
Or beauty's bloom decay,
That passion's altar-fire so soon should fade
To ashes cold and grey.
Or beauty's bloom decay,
That passion's altar-fire so soon should fade
To ashes cold and grey.
Care stablishes his dull dominion, kills
Romance, and turns to stone
Illusion's tender heart; and Duty fills
Love's abdicated throne;
Romance, and turns to stone
Illusion's tender heart; and Duty fills
Love's abdicated throne;
Chiller the kiss that custom turns to give,
Fainter and faltering
The music grows, till Love, if yet he live,
Has ceased, poor bird, to sing.
Fainter and faltering
The music grows, till Love, if yet he live,
Has ceased, poor bird, to sing.
Then bleak distrust, estrangement's formal kiss,
The winter of neglect;
Then barren years when lips no longer miss
What lips no more expect;
The winter of neglect;
Then barren years when lips no longer miss
What lips no more expect;
Till comes at last, to answer Love's despair,
Death; and the faded eyes,
No more to be averted, blankly stare;
And love, too late, grows wise;
Death; and the faded eyes,
No more to be averted, blankly stare;
And love, too late, grows wise;
45
Too late the pride that held their souls apart
Is melted, and a flood
Bursts from the frozen fountains of the heart,
Bitter and hot as blood—
Is melted, and a flood
Bursts from the frozen fountains of the heart,
Bitter and hot as blood—
O God! one moment grant ere all be o'er,
Call back one struggling breath!
O Pity! keep the warmth one moment more
On the damp brow of death!—
Call back one struggling breath!
O Pity! keep the warmth one moment more
On the damp brow of death!—
Ah! that the final unfelt kiss had power,
With rain of ceaseless tears,
To summon back one solitary hour
Of all those wasted years!
With rain of ceaseless tears,
To summon back one solitary hour
Of all those wasted years!
46
ELEGY
Here sleeps the eager form I held so dear,
Here lie the ruins of my iondest dreams;
Often I seek the spot, for only here,
When evening's eyes grow dim,
The heart of sorrow slowlier beats, and seems
Almost at rest with him.
Here lie the ruins of my iondest dreams;
Often I seek the spot, for only here,
When evening's eyes grow dim,
The heart of sorrow slowlier beats, and seems
Almost at rest with him.
Here 'tis so simple; just one young life less,
One sweet book closed; and all our weight of woe—
What matters it to him?—our wakefulness
Disturbeth not his sleep;
Our pleadings touch him not; he doth not know
Whether we smile or weep;
One sweet book closed; and all our weight of woe—
What matters it to him?—our wakefulness
Disturbeth not his sleep;
Our pleadings touch him not; he doth not know
Whether we smile or weep;
Or, if he knows, no tidings hither come
From that secluded land; if spirits grieve
For mortal sorrows, they to us are dumb,
As we to them are blind;
Either they cannot reach us, or they leave
All care of earth behind.
From that secluded land; if spirits grieve
For mortal sorrows, they to us are dumb,
As we to them are blind;
Either they cannot reach us, or they leave
All care of earth behind.
47
Here only death is peace; around 'tis all
One loud and senseless turmoil; nothing blends
With death but death; no voice is musical,
Earth's sweetest harmonies
Are discord, and the skylark's song offends
The silence where he lies.
One loud and senseless turmoil; nothing blends
With death but death; no voice is musical,
Earth's sweetest harmonies
Are discord, and the skylark's song offends
The silence where he lies.
The city's distant roar, the wood-dove's note,
Cursings and blessings, joy, and love, and strife
Seem of some other world, unreal, remote;
Death only seems to own
A soul, and ceaseth not to mock at life
Till here we meet alone;
Cursings and blessings, joy, and love, and strife
Seem of some other world, unreal, remote;
Death only seems to own
A soul, and ceaseth not to mock at life
Till here we meet alone;
But here no rival energies dispute
Death's lordship; therefore gracious grows his mien
And merciful; love's rebel mouth is mute;
Grief's passionate storm is spent,
And sinketh to a sadness more serene
Than joy's short-lived content;
Death's lordship; therefore gracious grows his mien
And merciful; love's rebel mouth is mute;
Grief's passionate storm is spent,
And sinketh to a sadness more serene
Than joy's short-lived content;
For death has done his worst, and nothing now
Remains to fear; the wistful dreams which lay
In those deep eyes, the candour of that brow,
The hopes which had their birth
In that warm heart, can never know decay,
Or take the taint of earth.
Remains to fear; the wistful dreams which lay
In those deep eyes, the candour of that brow,
The hopes which had their birth
In that warm heart, can never know decay,
Or take the taint of earth.
48
Rapt in a moment from a world of flowers
And song and sunshine, May at her sweet best,
He will not taste the misery that sours
Love's cup at last, nor wake
To find hope's promise false, nor shrink from rest
Because dull day will break;
And song and sunshine, May at her sweet best,
He will not taste the misery that sours
Love's cup at last, nor wake
To find hope's promise false, nor shrink from rest
Because dull day will break;
Tears will not rise at sight of Spring's young green,
Nor all that gave delight be over-grown
With sad remembrances, nor each dear scene
Be haunted by regret,
Till old age turn the weary heart to stone,
And life's pale planet set;
Nor all that gave delight be over-grown
With sad remembrances, nor each dear scene
Be haunted by regret,
Till old age turn the weary heart to stone,
And life's pale planet set;
The swiftness of his joy will never tire;
Ah! well for him!—better to be uptorn
In Springtime's golden leaf, with love's pure fire
Glowing in every vein,
Than, branch by branch, to rot and fall, outworn
With labour, grief, and pain.
Ah! well for him!—better to be uptorn
In Springtime's golden leaf, with love's pure fire
Glowing in every vein,
Than, branch by branch, to rot and fall, outworn
With labour, grief, and pain.
For him 'tis well indeed; but we, who still
Must drain the cup of sorrow to the lees,
Pine for the impulse of his ardent will,
Need his fresh strength to brace
Our weakness; nor can faith or hope appease
The hunger for his face.
Must drain the cup of sorrow to the lees,
Pine for the impulse of his ardent will,
Need his fresh strength to brace
Our weakness; nor can faith or hope appease
The hunger for his face.
49
For us remain the fever and the fray.
Whether he simply sleeps, or quits him well
In some diviner conflict, who shall say?
We trust love doth not die,
But only know him gone, and cannot tell
Whither he went, or why.
Whether he simply sleeps, or quits him well
In some diviner conflict, who shall say?
We trust love doth not die,
But only know him gone, and cannot tell
Whither he went, or why.
To fight our best, and take no count of death—
This high command is all our guidance here;
And how and when each soldier perisheth
Must rest with Him Who plans
The battle; to what issue, in what sphere,
Is God's concern, not man's.
This high command is all our guidance here;
And how and when each soldier perisheth
Must rest with Him Who plans
The battle; to what issue, in what sphere,
Is God's concern, not man's.
Yet in the pauses of life's bitter stress,
For those whose autumn sky was overcast,
'Twas good to bask in love's young happiness;
Alas! the joy he lent
To poorer lives is like a summer past;
That treasure too is spent.
For those whose autumn sky was overcast,
'Twas good to bask in love's young happiness;
Alas! the joy he lent
To poorer lives is like a summer past;
That treasure too is spent.
O all bright things that knew him not, be glad;
O birds that tune your love-notes o'er his grave,
Sing sweeter still; he would not wish you sad;
Fling your full hearts across
The silence of his death, that Earth may have
No feeling of her loss;
O birds that tune your love-notes o'er his grave,
Sing sweeter still; he would not wish you sad;
Fling your full hearts across
The silence of his death, that Earth may have
No feeling of her loss;
50
But we, who knew and loved his presence here,
In toil for others' joy must seek relief,
For others' sakes not let our pain appear,
Knowing for him 'tis well,
Though deep within our souls the pulse of grief
Throbs like a funeral bell.
In toil for others' joy must seek relief,
For others' sakes not let our pain appear,
Knowing for him 'tis well,
Though deep within our souls the pulse of grief
Throbs like a funeral bell.
51
PARVA DOMUS, MAGNA QUIES
Dear treasure-house of rich content,
Calm shelter from care's anxious wind;
Here life is clean and innocent,
And all the plagues that fill
The noisome town are left ten leagues behind
Yon guardian hill.
Calm shelter from care's anxious wind;
Here life is clean and innocent,
And all the plagues that fill
The noisome town are left ten leagues behind
Yon guardian hill.
Beneath thy lowly roof abide
Untroubled sleep, unconscious health;
Never the foot of worldly pride
Profanes the threshold's moss;
No vain pretence is here, no hope of wealth,
No fear of loss.
Untroubled sleep, unconscious health;
Never the foot of worldly pride
Profanes the threshold's moss;
No vain pretence is here, no hope of wealth,
No fear of loss.
Here toil is dignified and blest,
For Nature's gracious self employs
My willing hands; she gives deep rest
For guerdon, days secure
From vulgar strife, and luminous with joys
Serene and pure.
For Nature's gracious self employs
My willing hands; she gives deep rest
For guerdon, days secure
From vulgar strife, and luminous with joys
Serene and pure.
52
Here all wild things exult; the dawn
Still trembles with the nightingale
When the lark wakes the drowsy lawn;
The yaffel laughs along
The spinney, and the cuckoo fills the vale
With lusty song.
Still trembles with the nightingale
When the lark wakes the drowsy lawn;
The yaffel laughs along
The spinney, and the cuckoo fills the vale
With lusty song.
The shy birds here are bold; nuthatch
And wryneck find a safe retreat;
The martin warm beneath the thatch
Chuckles his cheerful love,
While from the copse purrs in the noonday heat
The hidden dove.
And wryneck find a safe retreat;
The martin warm beneath the thatch
Chuckles his cheerful love,
While from the copse purrs in the noonday heat
The hidden dove.
Here roses can rejoice; no reek
Of Man's dark prison-house degrades
Their purity. The thrush sits meek
In motherhood, her spouse
Fluting his rapture where the lilac shades
Their little house.
Of Man's dark prison-house degrades
Their purity. The thrush sits meek
In motherhood, her spouse
Fluting his rapture where the lilac shades
Their little house.
‘Small house, great quietness’; so runs
The portal's legend, half concealed
By leafage; there the jasmine suns
Its earliest gold; below,
The crocus-cluster first uplifts the shield
Of melting snow.
The portal's legend, half concealed
By leafage; there the jasmine suns
Its earliest gold; below,
The crocus-cluster first uplifts the shield
Of melting snow.
53
Nor even Winter lacks the grace
Of flowers; the doughty aconite
Welcomes the frost with cheerful face;
The snowdrop blades disclose
Their guarded pearls, and Christmas brings to light
Its own pure rose;
Of flowers; the doughty aconite
Welcomes the frost with cheerful face;
The snowdrop blades disclose
Their guarded pearls, and Christmas brings to light
Its own pure rose;
While many a tender alien, born
In lonely mountain-dell, unfolds
Her beauty to the bright-eyed morn,
And sips the taintless rain
By warm airs wafted from the gentle wolds
O'er Severn's plain.
In lonely mountain-dell, unfolds
Her beauty to the bright-eyed morn,
And sips the taintless rain
By warm airs wafted from the gentle wolds
O'er Severn's plain.
Here two fair princes, May and June,
Delight to meet; the royal field
With cloth of cowslip-gold is strewn,
Dappled with purple shades
Of clouds becalmed, that kiss the dreaming weald
And bless the glades.
Delight to meet; the royal field
With cloth of cowslip-gold is strewn,
Dappled with purple shades
Of clouds becalmed, that kiss the dreaming weald
And bless the glades.
Hither escaping from the grime
And din of hideous streets, I feast
On Nature's song and silence, climb
The hill at dawn, to see
The gold belt of the crimson-skirted east
Gleam through the tree;
And din of hideous streets, I feast
On Nature's song and silence, climb
The hill at dawn, to see
The gold belt of the crimson-skirted east
Gleam through the tree;
54
Or search the brow of eve, to catch
In opal depths the first faint beat
Of Vega's fiery heart; and watch
The long decline of day
From beechen aisles, whose polished columns greet
The last low ray.
In opal depths the first faint beat
Of Vega's fiery heart; and watch
The long decline of day
From beechen aisles, whose polished columns greet
The last low ray.
Then, if the year be ripe, await
O'er woods, with glorious blazon tinged,
The solemn progress of the great
Red moon, through gold and green
To silver, till each slumbering thatch is fringed
With mellow sheen;
O'er woods, with glorious blazon tinged,
The solemn progress of the great
Red moon, through gold and green
To silver, till each slumbering thatch is fringed
With mellow sheen;
While all around the fragrant night
Breathes of ripe fruit and garnered corn,
And now and then from distant height
There floats the voice of sheep,
With echoes of the brown owl's plaintive horn
Where orchards sleep;
Breathes of ripe fruit and garnered corn,
And now and then from distant height
There floats the voice of sheep,
With echoes of the brown owl's plaintive horn
Where orchards sleep;
Or wake on winter morns to find
The plain a phantom sea of mist,
Isled with dim trees, whereon half-blind
The tearful eye of heaven
Broods, through a veil by little rainbows kissed
And light airs riven.
The plain a phantom sea of mist,
Isled with dim trees, whereon half-blind
The tearful eye of heaven
Broods, through a veil by little rainbows kissed
And light airs riven.
55
Amid these peaceful wolds man yet
May dwell in beauty; church and farm,
Cottage and ancient hall, have met
In one grey brotherhood,
Now bare to upland blast, now nestled warm
In sheltering wood.
May dwell in beauty; church and farm,
Cottage and ancient hall, have met
In one grey brotherhood,
Now bare to upland blast, now nestled warm
In sheltering wood.
Here bygone ages linger; high
On yonder ridge the Age of Stone
Upreared its giant ossuary;
The grim centurion strode
Home to those crumbling walls, along that lone
Unbending road;
On yonder ridge the Age of Stone
Upreared its giant ossuary;
The grim centurion strode
Home to those crumbling walls, along that lone
Unbending road;
Behind those daisied banks a lord
Of desperate Britain stood at bay;
From that soft coombe the Saxon sword
Swayed all the Mercian realm;
Beneath yon tower the Norman knelt to pray;
That friendly elm
Of desperate Britain stood at bay;
From that soft coombe the Saxon sword
Swayed all the Mercian realm;
Beneath yon tower the Norman knelt to pray;
That friendly elm
O'erlooks a field which once was drenched
With rain of the two Roses' blood;
A captive monarch's light was quenched
Where yonder ivied keep
Hears Severn, swollen with many a tribute flood,
Pant for the deep.
With rain of the two Roses' blood;
A captive monarch's light was quenched
Where yonder ivied keep
Hears Severn, swollen with many a tribute flood,
Pant for the deep.
56
Noble the spacious drama viewed
From Cotswold, whose wide wing outspread
Doth from the clamorous world seclude
The beauty of my home;
There oft companioned by the mighty dead
I love to roam,
From Cotswold, whose wide wing outspread
Doth from the clamorous world seclude
The beauty of my home;
There oft companioned by the mighty dead
I love to roam,
And bearing to my simple hearth
Rich store of memories, gaily sup
With makers of immortal mirth,
Or wrapt in dream possess
My full-fed soul in peace, and quaff the cup
Of quietness;
Rich store of memories, gaily sup
With makers of immortal mirth,
Or wrapt in dream possess
My full-fed soul in peace, and quaff the cup
Of quietness;
While, from beyond those classic hills
That cradled English song, sunset
With chords of silent music fills
The heavens; till all grows pale,
And twilight spreads her purple coverlet
Athwart the vale.
That cradled English song, sunset
With chords of silent music fills
The heavens; till all grows pale,
And twilight spreads her purple coverlet
Athwart the vale.
Here with the comrades of my choice
I share the liberal fellowship
Of Nature, catch the still small voice,
And weave the rustic rhyme,
Content that lightly through love's fingers slip
The sands of time;
I share the liberal fellowship
Of Nature, catch the still small voice,
And weave the rustic rhyme,
Content that lightly through love's fingers slip
The sands of time;
57
Content to plough no more, but reap
The harvest of a thankful mind;
To grow in wonder; till the sleep
Which is God's last caress
Close all, and in the grave's small house I find
Great quietness.
The harvest of a thankful mind;
To grow in wonder; till the sleep
Which is God's last caress
Close all, and in the grave's small house I find
Great quietness.
58
ENVOY
Loyal and tried, whose gentleness,
Made strong by grief, serene by pain,
Still turns to love, as after rain
The blossom lifts its head again
To meet the sun's caress;
Made strong by grief, serene by pain,
Still turns to love, as after rain
The blossom lifts its head again
To meet the sun's caress;
White flower of that old tree, which stood
In Arden's forest-ways ere set
The star of great Plantagenet,
And, branching wide, is parent yet
Of many a gracious brood;
In Arden's forest-ways ere set
The star of great Plantagenet,
And, branching wide, is parent yet
Of many a gracious brood;
Kinswoman of that courtly soul
Who reared the grey secluded halls
That nursed my Muse;—their shadow falls
On cloistered green and bastioned walls
Where waves of Isis roll;—
Who reared the grey secluded halls
That nursed my Muse;—their shadow falls
On cloistered green and bastioned walls
Where waves of Isis roll;—
59
Sprung from his race who, while his feet
Were spattered by the storm which dyed
Edgehill with kindred blood, descried
The secret course of that red tide
Which fills all hearts that beat;
Were spattered by the storm which dyed
Edgehill with kindred blood, descried
The secret course of that red tide
Which fills all hearts that beat;
Child of a house whose men were hale
But brushed by wings of old romance,
And, stout in use of bow and lance,
Yet chose to wear for cognizance
The lily of the vale;
But brushed by wings of old romance,
And, stout in use of bow and lance,
Yet chose to wear for cognizance
The lily of the vale;
Handmaid of Christ—thy Master's grace
Enfolds thee; for thy tender heart
Hath chosen Mary's better part;
Not what thou dost, but what thou art,
Illumes thy flower-like face.
Enfolds thee; for thy tender heart
Hath chosen Mary's better part;
Not what thou dost, but what thou art,
Illumes thy flower-like face.
Thou seem'st a mild September rose,
Lit with the low sun's placid flame;
Thy mien, thy garb, thy very name,
All that belongs to thee, proclaim
The beauty of repose.
Lit with the low sun's placid flame;
Thy mien, thy garb, thy very name,
All that belongs to thee, proclaim
The beauty of repose.
60
How precious in these hustling days
The mellow voice, the restful eye,
The loftiness of soul too high
For pride, the simple dignity
Too natural for praise.
The mellow voice, the restful eye,
The loftiness of soul too high
For pride, the simple dignity
Too natural for praise.
Not ours the bridle-path of ease,
But duty's high and toilsome way,
Where yet birds sing and breezes play,
The rainbow blossoms on the grey,
And autumn gilds the trees.
But duty's high and toilsome way,
Where yet birds sing and breezes play,
The rainbow blossoms on the grey,
And autumn gilds the trees.
No more the glamour of the feast,
But frugal fare of sober joys,
A bitter-sweet that never cloys,
Pulses that keep a steadier poise—
Of bounties not the least.
But frugal fare of sober joys,
A bitter-sweet that never cloys,
Pulses that keep a steadier poise—
Of bounties not the least.
The wine runs thin, the lamp burns low,
Gone are the minstrels and the dance;
But fewer fly the bolts of chance;
And faith, a kindlier tolerance,
A deeper insight, grow.
Gone are the minstrels and the dance;
But fewer fly the bolts of chance;
And faith, a kindlier tolerance,
A deeper insight, grow.
61
Then, ere we quit Earth's genial board,
Let us pronounce a hearty grace,
And take the road with gentle pace,
Pleased that our children run the race
And twine the silver cord.
Let us pronounce a hearty grace,
And take the road with gentle pace,
Pleased that our children run the race
And twine the silver cord.
If youth's bright passion-flower must fade,
Some fruits of life remain to win;
And though the sunny hours begin
To close, we still may kneel within
The sanctuary of shade,
Some fruits of life remain to win;
And though the sunny hours begin
To close, we still may kneel within
The sanctuary of shade,
And, gazing through the golden bars,
Watch evening's benediction rest
On the dear past, till night's behest
Reveal beyond the wistful West
The wonder of the stars;
Watch evening's benediction rest
On the dear past, till night's behest
Reveal beyond the wistful West
The wonder of the stars;
Thankful if, while the distance grows
More sombre, and our feet draw near
The darkness and the hush, no fear
Assail us, and the rounded year
Be calmest at the close.
More sombre, and our feet draw near
The darkness and the hush, no fear
Assail us, and the rounded year
Be calmest at the close.
| The Cup of Quietness | |