Old and New A Collection of Poems. By Ernest Radford |
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| II. |
| III. | PART III
TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY |
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| I. |
| II. |
 | Old and New |  |
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III. PART III
TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY
85
MOTHER EARTH AND THE NEW WOMAN
Love in my arms lies weeping,
His tiny limbs upcurled:
Art thou so soon, my darling,
Aweary of the world?
His tiny limbs upcurled:
Art thou so soon, my darling,
Aweary of the world?
Come, come, a baby's troubles
Are easily redressed:
Drink deep, drink deep, my darling,
God gives thee of his best.
Are easily redressed:
Drink deep, drink deep, my darling,
God gives thee of his best.
Ah, now about my bosom
The tiny hands have curled!
To thee, to thee, my darling,
The bosom is the world.
The tiny hands have curled!
To thee, to thee, my darling,
The bosom is the world.
Love in my arms lies weeping.
O God! dear God! recall
Thy children to my breast, for here
Is nourishment for all.
O God! dear God! recall
Thy children to my breast, for here
Is nourishment for all.
86
FOR AN IDEAL
I looked out over the ocean
And saw a maiden stand
Where billow and cloud commingled
In a vanishing golden land.
And saw a maiden stand
Where billow and cloud commingled
In a vanishing golden land.
I passed out over the ocean,
And held the Sun-Maiden's hand,
And lost for ever the treasure
Of Love in my Fatherland.
And held the Sun-Maiden's hand,
And lost for ever the treasure
Of Love in my Fatherland.
87
SONG IN THE LABOUR MOVEMENT
The voice of Labour soundeth shrill—
Mere clamour of a tuneless throng—
To you who barter at your will
The very Life that maketh Song.
Mere clamour of a tuneless throng—
To you who barter at your will
The very Life that maketh Song.
O you whose sluggard hours are spent
The Rule of Mammon to prolong,
What know ye of the stern intent
Of hosted Labour marching strong?
The Rule of Mammon to prolong,
What know ye of the stern intent
Of hosted Labour marching strong?
When we have righted what is wrong,
Great singing shall your ears entreat:
Meanwhile in movement there is song,
And music in the pulse of feet!
Great singing shall your ears entreat:
Meanwhile in movement there is song,
And music in the pulse of feet!
88
ENVOY
Dearest, I have put my life
In a tiny book of song;
If I speak with halting voice,
Yet may broken words prolong
In a tiny book of song;
If I speak with halting voice,
Yet may broken words prolong
The memory of the golden hour
When we were given each to each,
And in silence, wanting words,
Perfect love found perfect speech.
When we were given each to each,
And in silence, wanting words,
Perfect love found perfect speech.
89
PLYMOUTH HARBOUR
A SONG
Oh, what know they of harbours
Who toss not on the sea!
They tell of fairer havens,
But none so fair there be
Who toss not on the sea!
They tell of fairer havens,
But none so fair there be
As Plymouth town outstretching
Her quiet arms to me;
Her breast's broad welcome spreading
From Mewstone to Penlee.
Her quiet arms to me;
Her breast's broad welcome spreading
From Mewstone to Penlee.
Ah, with this home-thought, darling,
Come crowding thoughts of thee.
Oh, what know they of harbours
Who toss not on the sea!
Come crowding thoughts of thee.
Oh, what know they of harbours
Who toss not on the sea!
90
UNWORTHY
Am I not worthy of thee? O my child,
Come close, come close, and nurse upon thy breast
My aching brow! Let thy sweet hands be pressed
Cool, cool on these hot eyelids till the wild,
Come close, come close, and nurse upon thy breast
My aching brow! Let thy sweet hands be pressed
Cool, cool on these hot eyelids till the wild,
Ungoverned tumult of my brain is stilled.
Close, close, till that sound dies within my ears,
And I may cease from questioning with tears
Why God has made me love thee; O my child!
Close, close, till that sound dies within my ears,
And I may cease from questioning with tears
Why God has made me love thee; O my child!
91
MARGUERITE
Loveth he, or loveth not,
All these idle years?
An he love me, Laughter;
An he love not, Tears.
All these idle years?
An he love me, Laughter;
An he love not, Tears.
Loveth he, or loveth not?
Flower, canst thou tell?
Thou shalt deck my bosom
An he love me well.
Flower, canst thou tell?
Thou shalt deck my bosom
An he love me well.
Loveth he, or loveth not?
Oh, but life were sweet!
Say, ah say, ‘He loves thee,’
Gentle Marguerite!
Oh, but life were sweet!
Say, ah say, ‘He loves thee,’
Gentle Marguerite!
92
MY LOVE: WHERE ART THOU?
My Love, where art thou? Crowding waves
Press ever on the strait confine
Of the still spirit-haunted shore
Where my soul waiteth thine.
Press ever on the strait confine
Of the still spirit-haunted shore
Where my soul waiteth thine.
My Love, where art thou? Once, ah once,
Thy vision in the clamorous mart
Had drawn me surely from the throng
To a chamber set apart
Thy vision in the clamorous mart
Had drawn me surely from the throng
To a chamber set apart
Where weaving from its finest strand
My spirit fashioned for thy shrine
A veil to shroud thee from a gaze
Raised unabashed to thine.
My spirit fashioned for thy shrine
A veil to shroud thee from a gaze
Raised unabashed to thine.
93
But now, where art thou? Say not, lost!
The sanctuary of thought is bare:
The shrine where stood thy picture shows
The wan face of Despair.
The sanctuary of thought is bare:
The shrine where stood thy picture shows
The wan face of Despair.
Not ‘lost’—the low sweet voice that bade
Me wait the lapse of dragging years:
Not ‘lost’—my vision in the throng
Now dimly seen through tears.
Me wait the lapse of dragging years:
Not ‘lost’—my vision in the throng
Now dimly seen through tears.
94
IN ACCOUNT WITH TIME
Time cannot grudge to me
The few glad hours I spend—
Glad hours of rare companionship—
In converse with my friend.
The few glad hours I spend—
Glad hours of rare companionship—
In converse with my friend.
My friend thus counsels me:
‘Be it with Time agreed
That thou wilt in my company
Seek rest when thou hast need.’
‘Be it with Time agreed
That thou wilt in my company
Seek rest when thou hast need.’
Sweet words (if words could soften
The pain of parting)—‘May
I come indeed as often
As I have need?’ I say.
The pain of parting)—‘May
I come indeed as often
As I have need?’ I say.
‘Time cannot grudge to me
The sure release from pain
I have in thy sweet ministry
Of solace to my brain.’
The sure release from pain
I have in thy sweet ministry
Of solace to my brain.’
95
ANNIVERSARY
These five years.Ah, they have shown us one thing plain,
These five years.
Joy has a deeper spring than tears:
Love knows a harbour shut to pain:
Dearest, they are not spent in vain,
These five years.
96
A DREAM
Night brought a dream of love—
A fond sweet dream of thee;
Thy heart beat warm upon my heart;
Thy dear arms circled me.
A fond sweet dream of thee;
Thy heart beat warm upon my heart;
Thy dear arms circled me.
Alas! but dawn now shows
A cheerless couch to me.
'Twas sleep beguiled an empty heart;
My vacant arms sought thee.
A cheerless couch to me.
'Twas sleep beguiled an empty heart;
My vacant arms sought thee.
97
WITH FLOWERS
I know not how in any wise,
Dearest, my aching love to show;
If flowers have voices these will speak,
These flowers I gave you
Long ago.
Dearest, my aching love to show;
If flowers have voices these will speak,
These flowers I gave you
Long ago.
And they will whisper, ‘Day and Night
He sheddeth tears of joy to know
He has not lost, not lost, not lost
The love you gave him
Long ago.’
He sheddeth tears of joy to know
He has not lost, not lost, not lost
The love you gave him
Long ago.’
98
IN JUNE
Ah, Love, I lack thy kisses
In the warm sweet breath of June:
I am lonely amid lovers—
Love, come soon.
In the warm sweet breath of June:
I am lonely amid lovers—
Love, come soon.
A blue sea stretches waveless
'Neath a blue blue sky this June:
I am panting for thy love, Love—
Love, come soon.
'Neath a blue blue sky this June:
I am panting for thy love, Love—
Love, come soon.
99
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Athwart the shadowed path
Of Life wherein we tread,
How often Beauty hath
A ray of sunlight shed!
Of Life wherein we tread,
How often Beauty hath
A ray of sunlight shed!
If on my shadowed path
She throws her light to-day,
I forth shall go with heart aglow,
Rejoicing on my way.
She throws her light to-day,
I forth shall go with heart aglow,
Rejoicing on my way.
100
TO A SWEET SINGER
My heart was full the while I wrote
The song you sang yestreen.
That it would fill so sweet a throat
I could not have foreseen.
The song you sang yestreen.
That it would fill so sweet a throat
I could not have foreseen.
So long as Love is in the land,
He rules by right divine:
So long will there be fresh demand
Of voices sweet as thine.
He rules by right divine:
So long will there be fresh demand
Of voices sweet as thine.
101
EDELWEISS
Above the line
Of thawless snows
On yonder height
One flower grows.
Of thawless snows
On yonder height
One flower grows.
And in my bosom
Winter-bound
Lives one such flower
Which thou hast found.
Winter-bound
Lives one such flower
Which thou hast found.
102
OF ME
Think, Love, of me.Far from thy side to-night,
Think, Love, of me.
So shall I absent see,
Pictured upon the night,
Thy dear face set in light.
Think, Love, of me.
103
DAY AND NIGHT
I held her hand
To-day,
And whispered a word,
And she heard;
And I did not work,
And she did not play,
To-day.
To-day,
And whispered a word,
And she heard;
And I did not work,
And she did not play,
To-day.
I touched her lips
To-night;
And none knew, but we two,
The delight;
And I shall not sleep,
And she will not sleep,
To-night.
To-night;
And none knew, but we two,
The delight;
And I shall not sleep,
And she will not sleep,
To-night.
104
WHEN
When laughing Joy robs SorrowOf all her load of thought,
The harp and voice may borrow
A sweetness yet untaught.
To be merry, till the morrow
Dawns with its memories fraught,
And the tired thief
Brings back to Grief
Her heavy load of thought.
105
LOST
Something has gone.O Life! great giver as thou art,
Something has gone.
Not Love, for Love, as years roll on,
Plays evermore a fuller part.
But from the treasure of my heart
Something has gone.
106
AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Fair flowers! the hand I fain would kiss,
That so among you lightly moved,
To gather this—and this—and this—
The while you nodded and approved.
That so among you lightly moved,
To gather this—and this—and this—
The while you nodded and approved.
In culling leaves so rare of scent,
It was (was it not?) her intent
To grace a friendship old as ours
With fragrance passing that of flowers?
It was (was it not?) her intent
To grace a friendship old as ours
With fragrance passing that of flowers?
107
A DOLE
The bread I eatFills me to-day with shame.
Lo, here I fling it to the street:
Not money: just the bread I eat.
O comrades, for your lofty claim
Take, take from me, in Freedom's name,
The bread I eat.
108
HOMEWARD BOUND
In the low pathway of the sun,Far-shadowed on the golden fern,
And robed in purple twilight, one
Stood and awaited his return;
And shone upon him unforeseen
As he with heavy step drew near:
Ah, then was greeting sweet between
Us two old lovers—Sister dear!
109
PICTURES BY FLORENCE SMALL
I.—AUTUMN
O Autumn leaves!Bind in thy tresses, maiden fair,
These Autumn leaves.
See Hope fulfilled in rangèd sheaves:
See in dead Nature Love's despair:
For brooding joy, for russet care,
These Autumn leaves.
II.—THE POEM
Her brow upon thy pages bent,
Thy volume, Poet, in her hands;
She knows not, she so innocent,
How like a pictured maid she stands.
Thy volume, Poet, in her hands;
She knows not, she so innocent,
How like a pictured maid she stands.
Sing, Singer, to thy heart's content!
Paint, Painter! shall he rival thee?
Twin arts have equal graces lent:
So art thou, Maiden, fair—and free.
Paint, Painter! shall he rival thee?
Twin arts have equal graces lent:
So art thou, Maiden, fair—and free.
110
AN UNFINISHED PORTRAIT
How shines the gold amid the brown
Of heavy tresses tumbling down,
In Art's despite!
How Nature blends her red and white!
Of heavy tresses tumbling down,
In Art's despite!
How Nature blends her red and white!
Ah, happy painter, it is thine
That ‘sweet disorder’ to confine:
If thou shouldst order it aright,
Ah, what delight!
That ‘sweet disorder’ to confine:
If thou shouldst order it aright,
Ah, what delight!
111
TO WILLIAM THOMPSON
Old friend, it was my earliest thought
That your name should be written here;
For sooth, if Friendship counts for aught,
I hold no living man so dear.
That your name should be written here;
For sooth, if Friendship counts for aught,
I hold no living man so dear.
Yet o'er my pages now I look,
And am, for very shame, deterred:
Of Love unending tells the book,
But of our Friendship not a word.
And am, for very shame, deterred:
Of Love unending tells the book,
But of our Friendship not a word.
112
A BIRTHDAY
Dear sister, with an idle line,
There comes no dainty thing
To grace thy dress, to deck thy hair;
These may some other bring.
There comes no dainty thing
To grace thy dress, to deck thy hair;
These may some other bring.
Love, of an essence volatile,
Will oft elude the string
That bindeth sure the decent gift
Of formal offering.
Will oft elude the string
That bindeth sure the decent gift
Of formal offering.
So in no cumbering parcel tied,
But swift, on his own wing,
Love, faring forth to gain thy side,
Has only love to bring.
But swift, on his own wing,
Love, faring forth to gain thy side,
Has only love to bring.
113
FRIENDS
Hands clasped a moment on the strand:
The one must stay, the other go:
There is not any sign to show
That friends have parted, hand from hand.
The one must stay, the other go:
There is not any sign to show
That friends have parted, hand from hand.
The years roll on; the two friends stand:
The welcome spoken, speech is slow;
Still is there not a sign to show
Friend dead to friend, as hand strikes hand.
The welcome spoken, speech is slow;
Still is there not a sign to show
Friend dead to friend, as hand strikes hand.
114
IN A BACHELOR'S GARDEN
It seems, ah me! but yesterday
She plucked, half jesting was she not?
And blushed (so near my heart they lay)
Yon flowers that plead—‘Forget-me-not.’
She plucked, half jesting was she not?
And blushed (so near my heart they lay)
Yon flowers that plead—‘Forget-me-not.’
Ah, ageing heart! old memories throng!
Again, meseems, her kiss strikes hot:
Her voice, long mute, bursts into song
Who planted that Forget-me-not.
Again, meseems, her kiss strikes hot:
Her voice, long mute, bursts into song
Who planted that Forget-me-not.
115
A SCIENCE OF HISTORY
Think you it would be good indeed
(Surveying on the walls of Time
The hurried finger trace) to climb
The heights of Fancy, and to read
(Surveying on the walls of Time
The hurried finger trace) to climb
The heights of Fancy, and to read
The import of the coming years?
Or would the load be heavier yet?
A paler grief unheeded, wet
The Rock of Destiny with tears?
Or would the load be heavier yet?
A paler grief unheeded, wet
The Rock of Destiny with tears?
116
QUESTION
To one who long a worldly gainIn worldly paths has sought,
May aught of better worth remain,
Save peradventure caught
On cobwebs in the brain,
Some fragment of untainted thought?
117
TWICE DEAD
The spirit ever hath desire
To pierce, thro' forms of Friendship, higher,
And somewhere gain its promised part
Of true communion, heart with heart.
To pierce, thro' forms of Friendship, higher,
And somewhere gain its promised part
Of true communion, heart with heart.
Ah, friend of Youth! thy fresh-cut grave
Is warmer than the hand you gave:
Else were not (strangers many years)
Lost friend, lost friend! these tears, these tears.
Is warmer than the hand you gave:
Else were not (strangers many years)
Lost friend, lost friend! these tears, these tears.
118
MAGDALENE
‘You are a beautiful woman,’ he said.
Oh, a long night followed that day.
The whole long night rang rang in my head
His words, and his look as I lay
Oh, a long night followed that day.
The whole long night rang rang in my head
His words, and his look as I lay
I could not forget. I lay weeping, and vowed—
‘I will hold hereafter in trust
This Beauty of mine: I will live and be proud,
Not humbled, as now, in the dust.’
‘I will hold hereafter in trust
This Beauty of mine: I will live and be proud,
Not humbled, as now, in the dust.’
We met, as one meets men, any way,
I've met, it may be, men by the score.
And talked about nothing, as any one may
When one has to spend ten minutes or more.
I've met, it may be, men by the score.
And talked about nothing, as any one may
When one has to spend ten minutes or more.
119
Then parted—a light matter parting with men?
But the eyes of this man were aflame in his head—
He gave a great hand, and was silent, and then,
‘You are a beautiful woman,’ he said.
But the eyes of this man were aflame in his head—
He gave a great hand, and was silent, and then,
‘You are a beautiful woman,’ he said.
120
ALMA MATER
Lady, my thanks: this night my dream
Is of a pathway stretching fair
Through meadows bordering a stream,
And flowers, thy gift, spring everywhere.
Is of a pathway stretching fair
Through meadows bordering a stream,
And flowers, thy gift, spring everywhere.
By Grandchester, by Trumpington,
Our quiet Cam-side pacing slow,
At eve I pass, still musing on
The unseen years, as years ago.
Our quiet Cam-side pacing slow,
At eve I pass, still musing on
The unseen years, as years ago.
My flower-dream annulling time
Gives back the garnered hours to me;
Gives back a perished trick of rhyme
That hardly shapes these words to thee;
Gives back the garnered hours to me;
Gives back a perished trick of rhyme
That hardly shapes these words to thee;
Gives crowding thoughts of earlier days:—
Lost friend, whose love I ask in vain,
I walk the old oft-trodden ways
Thy hand within mine arm again.
Lost friend, whose love I ask in vain,
I walk the old oft-trodden ways
Thy hand within mine arm again.
121
Ah, the old days! The sun sank there:
Ah, the old days! Thus sped the hours:
But dream-born seems the perfumed air,
And of the dream my path of flowers.
Ah, the old days! Thus sped the hours:
But dream-born seems the perfumed air,
And of the dream my path of flowers.
122
IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM
Dead sage, dead priest, unheard ye call
Up from the valleys where ye sleep:
Love's clarion soundeth over all;
His fires glow from steep to steep.
Up from the valleys where ye sleep:
Love's clarion soundeth over all;
His fires glow from steep to steep.
Professor, I have little store
Of learning you may fitly seek,
I covet no Department's lore—
Egyptian, Syriac, or Greek.
Of learning you may fitly seek,
I covet no Department's lore—
Egyptian, Syriac, or Greek.
But oft I tread these halls alone,
And mark where, treasured with the rest,
There lies a stone, no common stone.
‘A fragment’—of a ‘woman's breast.’
And mark where, treasured with the rest,
There lies a stone, no common stone.
‘A fragment’—of a ‘woman's breast.’
Profess, Professor, all you know!
I ask, among the spoils you heap,
Has Time a greater thing to show?
Have we a holier thing to keep?
I ask, among the spoils you heap,
Has Time a greater thing to show?
Have we a holier thing to keep?
123
REMEMBER
Remember, love, how Burns would bring
His verses to the ingle-side,
And bid his dear-loved Jeanie sing,
And by that test abide.
His verses to the ingle-side,
And bid his dear-loved Jeanie sing,
And by that test abide.
Then what her ear determined true
Her lips gave ringing to the night;
And Burns was glad, and surely knew
That he had sung aright.
Her lips gave ringing to the night;
And Burns was glad, and surely knew
That he had sung aright.
Dear love, for me play such a part;
If I sing truly thou canst tell:
I bring my verses to thy heart;
If any enter, it is well.
If I sing truly thou canst tell:
I bring my verses to thy heart;
If any enter, it is well.
124
QUESTION
The inmost tenant of my heart,Dearest, thou knowest well thou art;
But love alone can solve a doubt
If I love thee, Love, out and out.
125
GIFTS
Take back the song you sang, Love:
Take back the gift you brought:
Take back the word you gave, Love:
Let me only keep the thought
Take back the gift you brought:
Take back the word you gave, Love:
Let me only keep the thought
That you knew not what you said, Love:
You deemed a song was naught:
You brought a gift to me, Love;
And knew not what you brought.
You deemed a song was naught:
You brought a gift to me, Love;
And knew not what you brought.
126
EVER AND A DAY
He murmured, ‘Love, for ever!’She whispered, ‘and a day?’
And I, whose pain ends never,
Saw her stand in her bride's array,
And knew that her love was for ever,
And his false love for a day.
127
G. D. R.
1879
Dearest sister, Sorrow dwellsIn the home as sound in shells
That whisper evermore
Along a silent shore:
Evermore, and mournfully,
The gathered sadness of the sea.
1889
A voice unheard these many years;A face long summers shut from sight;
That face I saw, that voice to-night
Gave quiet in a world of fears.
Sister, ten years may serve for tears;
In twice ten years I shall not miss
His very look, the ring of his
Great voice abideth in mine ears.
128
W. H. WIDGERY
‘He worketh still,’Superior to Death's smart,
He worketh still.
What his spent years could not fulfil
I shall endeavour for my part,
For ever, living in my heart,
He worketh still.
129
TO JOSEPH SKIPSEY
If I herein have phrased a thoughtIn words that jar not on your ear,
I shall be happy: Love has wrought
So in my heart that words are naught
To me at all, if insincere.
Unless with sacred meanings fraught
Words are but words. To ‘perfect praise’
Is the sole aim of Art: the Thought
Of daily bread, too dearly bought,
Deters no poet—Time repays.
130
OF QUIET
Tired brain, there is a place of restOn the broad bosom of the Land,
Where quiet will reward the quest
Of Quiet; and the iron hand
Of Toil upon the rolling hills
Will be unheard.—Ah, there shall we
Find quiet in the tumbling rills;
Or in the tumult of the sea,
The quiet that my dream fulfils
Of Quiet-aching tho' it be.
131
R. A. LEDWARD, SCULPTOR
Mark how with loving hand he wrought
Here on the dial that counts the hours
Thy sad great figure, wingèd Time,
Set heavy-hearted 'mid the flowers.
Here on the dial that counts the hours
Thy sad great figure, wingèd Time,
Set heavy-hearted 'mid the flowers.
Ah, even while he wrought did he
Close a great bargain with the years
The sooner with these flowers to be
That for their nurture have thy tears.
Close a great bargain with the years
The sooner with these flowers to be
That for their nurture have thy tears.
132
FOR AN URN
She chose to die.Grave here beneath our helpless flowers
‘She chose to die.’
Alas! the sun forsook her sky
What while he gladdened other bowers:
She tasted life—a few sad hours;
And chose to die.
133
ART'S EXTREMES
Proudly the father,
Lowly the wife,
Bends o'er a child sleeping,
Dearer than life.
Pride speaks in the father,
Love is mute in the wife,—
‘Did ever a painter
Paint like Life?’
Lowly the wife,
Bends o'er a child sleeping,
Dearer than life.
Pride speaks in the father,
Love is mute in the wife,—
‘Did ever a painter
Paint like Life?’
Heavy the footfall,
Laboured the breath;
One quitteth the chamber
Held by Death.
His gaze is estranged,
All strangely he saith—
‘Was there ever a sculptor
Wrought like Death?’
Laboured the breath;
One quitteth the chamber
Held by Death.
His gaze is estranged,
All strangely he saith—
‘Was there ever a sculptor
Wrought like Death?’
134
THE PROTEST OF SPRING
O Spring!Say not that She is dead.
Green month of bursting flower and leaf
Say not that She is dead.
For joy of life thy tears are shed;
Naught, naught to thee are mine of grief;
April! Fling wide thy disbelief
That She is dead.
135
LET REST
What art was lavished on the bower;
What nameless beauty hers for dower;
What perfect moments made the hour!
What nameless beauty hers for dower;
What perfect moments made the hour!
They steal like death from room to room;
They stifle sobs that break the gloom;
They keep the silence of the tomb.
They stifle sobs that break the gloom;
They keep the silence of the tomb.
Bring up old friends to view the bed;
Bring up, with slow, mock-solemn tread,
The hired transport of the dead.
Bring up, with slow, mock-solemn tread,
The hired transport of the dead.
Let rest the gold that holds her hair;
Let rest the ring none else might wear;
Let rest the strong man weeping there.
Let rest the ring none else might wear;
Let rest the strong man weeping there.
136
LIFE—LIFE
Life, life, if murmuring there beOf low estate, or scanty pelf,
The plaint upgoeth not from me.
Thy toys lie broken on the shelf—
Love swept them with an idle breath:
Life, life! Love overmastereth thee:
Grant gentle passage unto death.
137
TRIOLET
Lo, thy poor ring is broken!These kisses bind for aye.
Let but this word be spoken,
Now thy poor ring is broken:
‘True love outlasts his token,
Yet cannot choose but stay.’
Lo, thy poor ring is broken!
These kisses bind for aye.
138
THE UNDERSONG
To-day shall be no song, Love,
Here quiet now with thee;
No song holds all my love, Love,
So singing shall not be.
Here quiet now with thee;
No song holds all my love, Love,
So singing shall not be.
Let my hands frame thy face, Love;
Take this kiss for thy brow;
And these for thy tired lids, Love;
Ah! tears, not singing, now.
Take this kiss for thy brow;
And these for thy tired lids, Love;
Ah! tears, not singing, now.
Lay thy cheek to my cheek, Love;
Rest thy dear hand in mine;
Let thy heart search my heart, Love.
If it indeed be thine.
Rest thy dear hand in mine;
Let thy heart search my heart, Love.
If it indeed be thine.
And let there be no song, Love,
Save only this that tells
How deep, beneath all singing,
Song in the heart upwells.
Save only this that tells
How deep, beneath all singing,
Song in the heart upwells.
181
POSTSCRIPT
IN PRAISE OF ROBERT BURNS
182
183
‘I could write a capital satire on the world on the back
of that Bible; but first of all I must think of supplying
myself with food.’—Lavengro.
My hero Burns is wholly pure at heart?
His truly rural moral code is not
At one with ours. If urban folks depart
From the strait gate of virtue, they have got
His truly rural moral code is not
At one with ours. If urban folks depart
From the strait gate of virtue, they have got
None but themselves to blame for it: one learns
So very young so nicely what to hide!
My lady friend who looks askant at Burns
Remarks that Mrs. Grundy's skirts are wide;
So very young so nicely what to hide!
My lady friend who looks askant at Burns
Remarks that Mrs. Grundy's skirts are wide;
And Mrs. Grundy says that sex asserts
Itself so often, in the strangest ways,
She is obliged to wear the fullest skirts
To screen her darlings from the public gaze.
Itself so often, in the strangest ways,
She is obliged to wear the fullest skirts
To screen her darlings from the public gaze.
184
The modern garb effectually conceals
The form of woman. How on earth she goes,
A little tipsy pyramid on wheels,
About her daily business, goodness knows.
The form of woman. How on earth she goes,
A little tipsy pyramid on wheels,
About her daily business, goodness knows.
It was against monstrosities like these
That Carlyle's far-resounding bolts were hurled:
We live and move (in clothes but half at ease)
And have our Being in a ‘naked world.’
That Carlyle's far-resounding bolts were hurled:
We live and move (in clothes but half at ease)
And have our Being in a ‘naked world.’
I say again that I in Burns delight,
I mean to make his life and work the text
Of some eight hundred verses: I shall write
Of all within my knowledge that has vext
I mean to make his life and work the text
Of some eight hundred verses: I shall write
Of all within my knowledge that has vext
The souls of workers in this land of ours.
I say at once, to make my meaning plain,
When we have killed the filthy beast that glowers
On all our doings, Love will breathe again:
I say at once, to make my meaning plain,
When we have killed the filthy beast that glowers
On all our doings, Love will breathe again:
And not till then. I do not mention names:
The animal in question is of course
No stranger to us: when the Devil claims
His own, we shall without the least remorse
The animal in question is of course
185
His own, we shall without the least remorse
Abandon him, and tell him he may go
To Blazes with his beastly money-bags,
And learn to play with bosom friends below
The game called ‘Retribution’ when Time flags.
To Blazes with his beastly money-bags,
And learn to play with bosom friends below
The game called ‘Retribution’ when Time flags.
So much for the god Mammon. To return:
I've written so far, you will understand,
By way of practice: if I want to earn
A living by it, I must lick the hand
I've written so far, you will understand,
By way of practice: if I want to earn
A living by it, I must lick the hand
Of some one high in office—some one hired
To make the business of a paper pay.
(The trick of self-effacement once acquired
One never loses, its professors say.)
To make the business of a paper pay.
(The trick of self-effacement once acquired
One never loses, its professors say.)
If God indeed helps those who help themselves,
He must have lost all sense of Right and Wrong—
While under His direction Adam delves,
No Child of Nature will attempt a song.
He must have lost all sense of Right and Wrong—
While under His direction Adam delves,
No Child of Nature will attempt a song.
186
If in ten dozen books of verse that claim
To be called poetry you find
But one pure song deserving of the name,
Then take the writer in your arms and blind
To be called poetry you find
But one pure song deserving of the name,
Then take the writer in your arms and blind
Him with fond kisses. On that fateful day
Talk not of money, lest you do him wrong.
Put up your purse. Let Love in his own way
Do honour to the singer and the song.
Talk not of money, lest you do him wrong.
Put up your purse. Let Love in his own way
Do honour to the singer and the song.
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