Feda with Other Poems Chiefly Lyrical. By Rennell Rodd ... With an Etching by Harper Pennington |
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| LYRICS. |
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 | Feda with Other Poems |  |
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LYRICS.
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[I heard a bird sing in a leafless tree]
I heard a bird sing in a leafless tree
In bleak midwinter—and it gladdened me;
In bleak midwinter—and it gladdened me;
Sing out for joy that noon forbore to freeze,
Or one stray sunbeam struck adown the trees,
Or one stray sunbeam struck adown the trees,
Some wintry greenness,—such a little thing
Had touched its heart to gratitude to sing:
Had touched its heart to gratitude to sing:
The world was grey, the woods were bare and sad,
But I was better that the bird was glad:
But I was better that the bird was glad:
And then I thought ways are that ever lie
Far off from summer in a clouded sky,
Far off from summer in a clouded sky,
To seek the gladness, to accept the sign,
Might strike a light to darker lives than mine,
Might strike a light to darker lives than mine,
So seeking sing I in the wintry way,
So singing seek to gladden whom I may.
So singing seek to gladden whom I may.
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THE JOURNEY HOME.
Deep into the night we flew, through the great plains broadening far
To the South of hills and the North of seas, low under the moon and star.
To the South of hills and the North of seas, low under the moon and star.
And we scared with a midnight shriek the slumbering haunts of men,
Dived into the gloom of forests, whirled out by river and fen.
Dived into the gloom of forests, whirled out by river and fen.
On and away, and ever away, through the night like a moving flame,
Till the folk have a different speech, and the lands have another name!
Till the folk have a different speech, and the lands have another name!
We had left the cloud in our wake, the sky had been overcast,
But here was the moon stood still, and the world went wildering past:
But here was the moon stood still, and the world went wildering past:
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And there grew such a sense of space, like a prisoner's suddenly freed,
In that slumberous rest of motion, safe borne on the wings of speed;
In that slumberous rest of motion, safe borne on the wings of speed;
And the silvery greys of midnight, the shadowy land the stream,
Grew part with the phantom pictures twixt sleep and a waking dream.
Grew part with the phantom pictures twixt sleep and a waking dream.
So the night went by and a wave of light gained over us while we sped,
The stars went down in the rosy wave and the westering shadows fled:
The stars went down in the rosy wave and the westering shadows fled:
A wide opalescent water lay blanched in the dawn mists dim,
And the blaze of the advent day grew flame on the eastward rim:
And the blaze of the advent day grew flame on the eastward rim:
The work of the world began for team and harrow and hind,
The smoke curled up from the farm-house roof and mixed with the morning wind.
The smoke curled up from the farm-house roof and mixed with the morning wind.
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Then we came to a world of meadows, a pastoral land of kine,
The meads were greyed with the early dew, the poplars waved in a line;
The meads were greyed with the early dew, the poplars waved in a line;
The grazing cattle looked up to stare as over their plains we flew,
Their bells rang crisp in the morning chill, you could see their tracks in the dew.
Their bells rang crisp in the morning chill, you could see their tracks in the dew.
Then the hills began, and the covert side, and the pear and the apple tree,
And here and there was a village spire, with a life we shall never see.
And here and there was a village spire, with a life we shall never see.
We stayed by a town stream-girded with gardens green to the marge,
And labouring men unloading red tiles from a resting barge,
And labouring men unloading red tiles from a resting barge,
With bleaching linen, the white and brown that flapped on a line in the breeze,
And carts laid up in the central street, and avenue rows of trees;
And carts laid up in the central street, and avenue rows of trees;
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It was easy to see it was market-day, the folk were in market blouse,
There were booths and stalls and clatter of life, and chatter of homely news;
There were booths and stalls and clatter of life, and chatter of homely news;
Then on by the factory piles that loom on the further side,—
A passing look at their little world, a moment's glance from the wide;
A passing look at their little world, a moment's glance from the wide;
So into a wild waste land all fen and willow and reed,
With sickly shallows and aspens fret, and wilderness isles of weed,
With sickly shallows and aspens fret, and wilderness isles of weed,
And I think there are clouds that ever shut out that waste from the sky,
That the bats wheel there in the nightly mists, and the owl has a haunt hard by,
That the bats wheel there in the nightly mists, and the owl has a haunt hard by,
And the wraiths of some doom forgotten must wail on the midnight air,
For the curse on yon tower of ruin half hid in the aspens bare.
For the curse on yon tower of ruin half hid in the aspens bare.
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So on and away, and ever away, and noon by now in the sky,
On and away, and ever away, till the end of the land draws nigh.
On and away, and ever away, till the end of the land draws nigh.
Oh, surely those are the sand-hills where the river broadens away
To masts of ships in the distance, white sails in the light mid-day;
To masts of ships in the distance, white sails in the light mid-day;
And these blown trees are the hardy sign of a land where the winds are free,
And surely this is the dear salt breath that only breathes from the sea!
And surely this is the dear salt breath that only breathes from the sea!
Lo, one great sheen to the east and west the luminous waters roll,
With a light of joy and a breeze of strength to the long land-prisoned soul!
With a light of joy and a breeze of strength to the long land-prisoned soul!
O beautiful ship with the dipping prow bound over the space between,
There are fairer hills on the further side and meads of a deeper green!
There are fairer hills on the further side and meads of a deeper green!
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We are close to the old cliff walls washed white of the ocean foam;
The masts of the ships have an English flag, and this is the island home!
The masts of the ships have an English flag, and this is the island home!
And here are the friends who wait me, the ready to take my part,
The quick to help me and understand, the loyal and true of heart.
The quick to help me and understand, the loyal and true of heart.
Oh, when and where shall I ever go out to you all as I would,
And receive you into myself and be and become your good!
And receive you into myself and be and become your good!
Now God speed all that are far from home, and bring them again at last
To the fair green isle in the ocean's arms when wandering days are past,
To the fair green isle in the ocean's arms when wandering days are past,
For though I have given all lands my love and all folk under the sky,
There was never a man that loved her yet with a greater love than I.
There was never a man that loved her yet with a greater love than I.
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ALBANO.
The lake lies calm with its mountain crown,
And the twilight star shows clear,
And large and solemn it gazes down
In the mirror of the mere.
Was it here they rowed in their crazy craft,
Where only the ripples are,—
The strange lake-folk of the floating raft?
Was it yesterday? said the star.
And the twilight star shows clear,
And large and solemn it gazes down
In the mirror of the mere.
Was it here they rowed in their crazy craft,
Where only the ripples are,—
The strange lake-folk of the floating raft?
Was it yesterday? said the star.
And the mountains slept, and the nights fell still,
And the thousand years rolled by.
Was there once a city on yon low hill,
With its towers along the sky,
And the cries of the war-din of long ago
Wailed over the waters far?
There is no stone left for a man to know
Since yesterday, said the star.
And the thousand years rolled by.
Was there once a city on yon low hill,
With its towers along the sky,
And the cries of the war-din of long ago
Wailed over the waters far?
There is no stone left for a man to know
Since yesterday, said the star.
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And the mountains sleep and the ripples wake,
And again a thousand years,
And the tents of battle are by the lake,
And the gleam of the Norsemen's spears;
They bend their brows with a fierce surmise
On the lights in the plain afar,
And the battle-hunger is in their eyes.
Was it yesterday? said the star.
And again a thousand years,
And the tents of battle are by the lake,
And the gleam of the Norsemen's spears;
They bend their brows with a fierce surmise
On the lights in the plain afar,
And the battle-hunger is in their eyes.
Was it yesterday? said the star.
And a thousand years,—and the lake is still,
And the star beams large and white,
The burial chant rolls down the hill,
Where they bury the monk at night;
The mountains sleep and the ripples lave
The shore where the pine-woods are,
And there's little change but another grave
Since yesterday, said the star.
And the star beams large and white,
The burial chant rolls down the hill,
Where they bury the monk at night;
The mountains sleep and the ripples lave
The shore where the pine-woods are,
And there's little change but another grave
Since yesterday, said the star.
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REVERIE.
An Italian Night.
Lonely here by starry midnight, with the springtide's mellow moon
Waning to the birth of summer's, and the May nights into June;
Chime of convent bells dies faintly down the moonenchanted air,
Leaves to nightingales the silence, waking music everywhere;
Through the dark of ilex shadows, where the fire-flies pause and pass,
Steal along with noiseless footfall on the violets in the grass!
Listen, listen, what mad rapture! and the song seems very near,
Moonbeams striking through the shadow light the woodland hollow clear
Where the antique marble Ceres stands serenely calm and cold,
Watching moon by moon for ever how her ilex trees grow old.
Sharp against the sky's blue twilight, heaving throat and drooping wings,
Little head uplifted starward, how it sings, and sings, and sings!
Thrice the deep-repeated sole-note, and a breathing space, and then
That wild ecstasy of answer, and the whole song through again.
And you did not fear the statue; have you watched it there so long
Night by night its still unheeding of the transport of your song?
Cold is she, of stone and heartless, underneath her ilex tree,
I am true, and warm, and loving, but you would not come to me;
We must stand far from you alway, wonder alway spring by spring,
What it is in starry midnight moves your little hearts to sing;
Stand apart for all our longing from these lonely lives of birds,
Never wholly know the secret of the song that has no words.
One there was in old Assisi, in the world they call him Saint,
Last of men who knew your language and made answer to your plaint;
Gentle spirits since have loved you, but the world's mistrust is more,
And we know not as they knew you in the golden time before.
Yet sing on, so I may hearken,—growing part with the still scene,
With the darkly waving branches and the stars that look between.
Waning to the birth of summer's, and the May nights into June;
Chime of convent bells dies faintly down the moonenchanted air,
Leaves to nightingales the silence, waking music everywhere;
Through the dark of ilex shadows, where the fire-flies pause and pass,
Steal along with noiseless footfall on the violets in the grass!
Listen, listen, what mad rapture! and the song seems very near,
Moonbeams striking through the shadow light the woodland hollow clear
Where the antique marble Ceres stands serenely calm and cold,
Watching moon by moon for ever how her ilex trees grow old.
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Little head uplifted starward, how it sings, and sings, and sings!
Thrice the deep-repeated sole-note, and a breathing space, and then
That wild ecstasy of answer, and the whole song through again.
And you did not fear the statue; have you watched it there so long
Night by night its still unheeding of the transport of your song?
Cold is she, of stone and heartless, underneath her ilex tree,
I am true, and warm, and loving, but you would not come to me;
We must stand far from you alway, wonder alway spring by spring,
What it is in starry midnight moves your little hearts to sing;
Stand apart for all our longing from these lonely lives of birds,
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One there was in old Assisi, in the world they call him Saint,
Last of men who knew your language and made answer to your plaint;
Gentle spirits since have loved you, but the world's mistrust is more,
And we know not as they knew you in the golden time before.
Yet sing on, so I may hearken,—growing part with the still scene,
With the darkly waving branches and the stars that look between.
For thou makest all times equal singing that same antique tune,
Thou, and these old trees and Ceres, and the star-orbs and the moon.
Who are these in long procession winding down the wooded hill,
Thronging noiseless on the twilight—and the bird is singing still?
Phantoms of the airy fancy, yet I see them near and near,
Ghosts that glide along the shadows—canst thou conjure spirits here?
Unfamiliar forms and faces—hast thou stolen these from time?
Re-arisen strange and lovely, dwellers of the world's young prime!
Garb and mien of pastoral people of the old Etruscan line,
Fathers of the grim-walled city on yon spur of Apennine!
They are gathering round the goddess, and thou singest undeterred.
Seest thou not the long procession—art thou too a phantom bird?
Wreathing ghostly garlands round her, and across thy song I hear
Clashing of the sacred cymbals and deep lowing of the steer;
And the maids unbind the fillets and their hair floats down the breeze,
Softly traced like summer moon-clouds on the darkness of the trees,
And the youths take up the reed-pipes, I can hear them shrill and strong
Blown across dim wastes of silence in the changes of thy song.
All the arms are straining upwards in the old sweet use of prayer,
Swells the spirit chorus loud and louder on the startled air!
Glides a shadow o'er the moonlight—where are all those spirits flown?
Waken, dreamer, from thy dreaming! for that voice was but thine own!
Waken, dreamer, from thy dreaming! thou hast scared the nightingale
Into deeper, leafier coverts far away along the vale!
Over yon mist-halo'd mountains grows a light that dims the star,
Havened in the topmost rock-crests, where the winter snows yet are;
Pales the blue to green and golden, hues that herald home the sun
Lingering yet on Asian waters—but his sister's reign is done;
I will mount up from the valley, through the olives and the vines,
Meet the sunrise on the mountains in the sweet scent of the pines,
Watch the morning mists roll upward from the silverwinding streams,
Summer grows and day dawns early, and the night is short for dreams.
Thou, and these old trees and Ceres, and the star-orbs and the moon.
Who are these in long procession winding down the wooded hill,
Thronging noiseless on the twilight—and the bird is singing still?
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Ghosts that glide along the shadows—canst thou conjure spirits here?
Unfamiliar forms and faces—hast thou stolen these from time?
Re-arisen strange and lovely, dwellers of the world's young prime!
Garb and mien of pastoral people of the old Etruscan line,
Fathers of the grim-walled city on yon spur of Apennine!
They are gathering round the goddess, and thou singest undeterred.
Seest thou not the long procession—art thou too a phantom bird?
Wreathing ghostly garlands round her, and across thy song I hear
Clashing of the sacred cymbals and deep lowing of the steer;
And the maids unbind the fillets and their hair floats down the breeze,
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And the youths take up the reed-pipes, I can hear them shrill and strong
Blown across dim wastes of silence in the changes of thy song.
All the arms are straining upwards in the old sweet use of prayer,
Swells the spirit chorus loud and louder on the startled air!
Glides a shadow o'er the moonlight—where are all those spirits flown?
Waken, dreamer, from thy dreaming! for that voice was but thine own!
Waken, dreamer, from thy dreaming! thou hast scared the nightingale
Into deeper, leafier coverts far away along the vale!
Over yon mist-halo'd mountains grows a light that dims the star,
Havened in the topmost rock-crests, where the winter snows yet are;
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Lingering yet on Asian waters—but his sister's reign is done;
I will mount up from the valley, through the olives and the vines,
Meet the sunrise on the mountains in the sweet scent of the pines,
Watch the morning mists roll upward from the silverwinding streams,
Summer grows and day dawns early, and the night is short for dreams.
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NIGHT VOICES.
Row no more now, stay thy hand,
Only drift along and dream;
What voices of the stranger land
Float singing o'er the stream!
Under yon low-shadowed shore
Mingles song with plash of oar,
Stay a moment, row no more!
Only drift along and dream;
What voices of the stranger land
Float singing o'er the stream!
Under yon low-shadowed shore
Mingles song with plash of oar,
Stay a moment, row no more!
Ruddy lights gleam here and there
Where the quiet hamlets are,—
Folk whose songs are sweet to hear
Under summer night and star,—
Row no more, the stream is strong
Swift, too swift we drift along,
Let us linger with the song!
Where the quiet hamlets are,—
Folk whose songs are sweet to hear
Under summer night and star,—
Row no more, the stream is strong
Swift, too swift we drift along,
Let us linger with the song!
Freshens breeze and on the prow
Beat the ripples rushing by,
Faint the voices echo now;—
Glides a glimmer up the sky,
Then a cloud grows silver-lined,
Mountain edges more defined,
Somewhere lurks the moon behind:
Beat the ripples rushing by,
Faint the voices echo now;—
Glides a glimmer up the sky,
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Mountain edges more defined,
Somewhere lurks the moon behind:
Dies the last shrill note away,—
Row once more now, row once more;
We must pass, and these must stay
On their own low-shadowed shore;
Rovers of the world are we,
Murmur not that thou art free
Till the river finds the sea.
Row once more now, row once more;
We must pass, and these must stay
On their own low-shadowed shore;
Rovers of the world are we,
Murmur not that thou art free
Till the river finds the sea.
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PRAGUE.
Moldau bends, and ripples broader
Underneath the citied ridge,
Sculptured saint and hero-warder
Guard the many-statued bridge.
Underneath the citied ridge,
Sculptured saint and hero-warder
Guard the many-statued bridge.
Yonder rise the domes and gables,
Halls of half-forgotten kings,—
Sounds of names that move like fables
O'er a tide of human things.
Halls of half-forgotten kings,—
Sounds of names that move like fables
O'er a tide of human things.
Here were banquetings assembled,
Haughty speech and flow of wine,
When the Northern princes trembled
At the name of Wallenstein.
Haughty speech and flow of wine,
When the Northern princes trembled
At the name of Wallenstein.
Friedland's palace! That world's wonder,
Can it be this sombre pile,
Where the stucco cracks asunder
And the frescoes make you smile?
Can it be this sombre pile,
Where the stucco cracks asunder
And the frescoes make you smile?
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This the tower where your hero
Gauged the boding star's intent,
Cabalistic plus and zero
Mark the nothing that it meant.
Gauged the boding star's intent,
Cabalistic plus and zero
Mark the nothing that it meant.
Princes feared and armies praised him,
Bigots blessed and mothers cursed,
Till the ruin sank that raised him,
And his creatures struck him first.
Bigots blessed and mothers cursed,
Till the ruin sank that raised him,
And his creatures struck him first.
Meteor of a tumult season
Flashed across the troubled skies,
Giant gifts and human treason—
Not a hero in my eyes.
Flashed across the troubled skies,
Giant gifts and human treason—
Not a hero in my eyes.
I will seek a corner rather
Which I came to Prague to find,
Holds a thought which pierces farther
Through a less romantic mind.
Which I came to Prague to find,
Holds a thought which pierces farther
Through a less romantic mind.
Deep in narrow streets and crowded,
Where it reeks of slums and stews,
Cells and garrets darkness-shrouded,
Is the Quarter of the Jews;
Where it reeks of slums and stews,
Cells and garrets darkness-shrouded,
Is the Quarter of the Jews;
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In the heart of the old city
Walled away from living tread,
Out of date of human pity,
Lies the rest-close of their dead.
Walled away from living tread,
Out of date of human pity,
Lies the rest-close of their dead.
Alders never a bird would nest in
Shake a few leaves blown and sere;
Only grass will grow protesting
Something left of nature here!
Shake a few leaves blown and sere;
Only grass will grow protesting
Something left of nature here!
Ah! the grim tombs closely serried,
Weirdly leaning moss-o'ergrown!
Here five deep the dead are buried
Underneath the weight of stone:
Weirdly leaning moss-o'ergrown!
Here five deep the dead are buried
Underneath the weight of stone:
Each of these a life recorded,
Human soul that agonized,
Outcasts all and over-lorded,
And forsaken and despised!
Human soul that agonized,
Outcasts all and over-lorded,
And forsaken and despised!
Bound in narrow bonds enclosing,
Here they lived and toiled and died,
Here at last were laid reposing,—
In the wall the suicide.
Here they lived and toiled and died,
Here at last were laid reposing,—
In the wall the suicide.
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Stedfast stood they man by brother,
Asked no mercy, fought their fight,
Drawing closer each to other
In the dark and angry night.
Asked no mercy, fought their fight,
Drawing closer each to other
In the dark and angry night.
Lightly olden sorrows move us,
Needs the near to seem the true,
Howsoe'er these stones reprove us,
We shall fail of pity's due.
Needs the near to seem the true,
Howsoe'er these stones reprove us,
We shall fail of pity's due.
We should plant you round with flowers,
You grim army of grey stones,
Feed your want of love with ours,
And revere the ancient bones.
You grim army of grey stones,
Feed your want of love with ours,
And revere the ancient bones.
Exiles in the stormy haven,
Sleepless in the wakeless bed,
Could I read the story graven
On these annals of your dead,
Sleepless in the wakeless bed,
Could I read the story graven
On these annals of your dead,
Would it speak out stern and scorning
Of the burden long endured,
Left behind to meet the morning,
And the triumphing assured?
Of the burden long endured,
Left behind to meet the morning,
And the triumphing assured?
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Let me deem the graven stone meant
Surely triumph more than pain,
And that need of our atonement
May be less by this your gain!
Surely triumph more than pain,
And that need of our atonement
May be less by this your gain!
Rugged types of lives heroic,
'Tis enough, the wild grass waves,
And a glory mute and stoic
Crowns your unforgotten graves.
'Tis enough, the wild grass waves,
And a glory mute and stoic
Crowns your unforgotten graves.
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THE SKYLARKS.
Oh the sky, the sky, the open sky
For the home of a song-bird's heart!
And why, why, and forever why,
Do they stifle here in the mart:
Cages of agony, rows on rows,
Torture that only a wild thing knows:
Is it nothing to you to see
That head thrust out through the hopeless wire,
And the tiny life, and the mad desire
To be free, to be free, to be free?
Oh the sky, the sky, the blue wide sky
For the beat of a song-bird's wings!
And why, why and forever why,
Is the only song it sings.
For the home of a song-bird's heart!
And why, why, and forever why,
Do they stifle here in the mart:
Cages of agony, rows on rows,
Torture that only a wild thing knows:
Is it nothing to you to see
That head thrust out through the hopeless wire,
And the tiny life, and the mad desire
To be free, to be free, to be free?
Oh the sky, the sky, the blue wide sky
For the beat of a song-bird's wings!
And why, why and forever why,
Is the only song it sings.
Great sad eyes with a frightened stare,
Look through the 'wildering darkness there,
The surge, the crowd, and the cry;
Fluttering wild wings beat and bleed,
And it will not peck at the golden seed,
And the water is almost dry:
Straight and close are the cramping bars
From the dawn of mist to the chill of stars,
And yet it must sing or die!
Will its marred harsh voice in the city street
Make any heart of you glad?
It will only beat with its wings and beat,
It will only sing you mad.
Look through the 'wildering darkness there,
The surge, the crowd, and the cry;
Fluttering wild wings beat and bleed,
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And the water is almost dry:
Straight and close are the cramping bars
From the dawn of mist to the chill of stars,
And yet it must sing or die!
Will its marred harsh voice in the city street
Make any heart of you glad?
It will only beat with its wings and beat,
It will only sing you mad.
Better to lie like this one dead,
Ruffled plumage of breast and head,
Poor little feathers for ever furled,
Only a song gone out of the world!
Ruffled plumage of breast and head,
Poor little feathers for ever furled,
Only a song gone out of the world!
Where the grasses wave like an emerald sea,
And the poppies nod in the corn,
Where the fields are wide and the wind blows free,
This joy of the spring was born,
Whose passionate music loud and loud
In the hush of the rose of morn,
Was a voice that fell from the sailing cloud
Midway to the blue above,—
A thing whose meaning was joy and love,
Whose life was one exquisite outpouring
Of a sweet surpassing note,
And all you have done is to break its wing,
And to blast God's breath in its throat!
And the poppies nod in the corn,
Where the fields are wide and the wind blows free,
This joy of the spring was born,
Whose passionate music loud and loud
In the hush of the rose of morn,
Was a voice that fell from the sailing cloud
Midway to the blue above,—
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Whose life was one exquisite outpouring
Of a sweet surpassing note,
And all you have done is to break its wing,
And to blast God's breath in its throat!
If it does not go to your heart to see
The helpless pity of those bruised wings,
The tireless effort with which it clings
To the strain and the will to be free,
I know not how I shall set in words
The meaning of God in this,
For the loveliest thing in this world of His
Are the ways and the songs of birds.
But the sky, the sky, the wide free sky
For the home of the song-bird's heart!
And why, why and forever why,
Do they stifle here in the mart?
The helpless pity of those bruised wings,
The tireless effort with which it clings
To the strain and the will to be free,
I know not how I shall set in words
The meaning of God in this,
For the loveliest thing in this world of His
Are the ways and the songs of birds.
But the sky, the sky, the wide free sky
For the home of the song-bird's heart!
And why, why and forever why,
Do they stifle here in the mart?
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RICHARD WAGNER.
In sea-born Venice, while the shadows crept
Across the ripples of the still Lagoon,
And even gathered on the waning noon,
Death kissed his forehead, and the master slept.
Across the ripples of the still Lagoon,
And even gathered on the waning noon,
Death kissed his forehead, and the master slept.
His hand had never faltered from its best,
Nor his strength wearied, nor his eye grown dim;
But in the quiet noon death came to him,
And now—we must not envy him his rest.
Nor his strength wearied, nor his eye grown dim;
But in the quiet noon death came to him,
And now—we must not envy him his rest.
His path was like the mountain torrent's, hurled
Through crags and gullies, bursting to be free—
To calm and broaden as it neared the sea
And rest upon the bosom of the world.
Through crags and gullies, bursting to be free—
To calm and broaden as it neared the sea
And rest upon the bosom of the world.
He felt the storm break round him—let them rave!
This is the burthen of the sons of song;
He cast on time the verdict—not for long
The shafts of envy beat upon the grave.
This is the burthen of the sons of song;
He cast on time the verdict—not for long
The shafts of envy beat upon the grave.
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He gave youth, life, to labour stern and true,
Knowing the night is longer than the day:
Short rest they take upon their onward way,
Those fiery spirits that achieve the new.
Knowing the night is longer than the day:
Short rest they take upon their onward way,
Those fiery spirits that achieve the new.
But restful now and very calm he lies,
Who woke strange chords to passion, strong to reach
The sense of things which lie too deep for speech—
That music only may eternalise.
Who woke strange chords to passion, strong to reach
The sense of things which lie too deep for speech—
That music only may eternalise.
Death and decay are not for him, nor tears,
But strength and beauty, and eternal prime:
A giant soul that lies abroad on time,
A voice for ever in the march of years.
But strength and beauty, and eternal prime:
A giant soul that lies abroad on time,
A voice for ever in the march of years.
The master is not, but the spirit breathes;
He heeds not now what flowers we may shed;
Yet on that grave, in homage to the dead,
Let mine be cast among the laurel wreaths!
He heeds not now what flowers we may shed;
Yet on that grave, in homage to the dead,
Let mine be cast among the laurel wreaths!
130
VICTOR HUGO.
How shall we reverence the great soul dead?
Oh, not with tears, for he was old and tired,
And mutely welcome as a friend desired
Death laid the laurel on that ancient head;
And rightly well Death kissed those brows
In the fair year-time between
The moon of flowering lilac boughs
And the full summer green.
So unwithstood, so painlessly
The mystic summons stole
And stayed the royal heart, set free
That elemental soul.
Oh, not with tears, for he was old and tired,
And mutely welcome as a friend desired
Death laid the laurel on that ancient head;
And rightly well Death kissed those brows
In the fair year-time between
The moon of flowering lilac boughs
And the full summer green.
So unwithstood, so painlessly
The mystic summons stole
And stayed the royal heart, set free
That elemental soul.
How shall we yield him homage in his death!
This was a man eyed with a starry faith
That sees beyond the temporal dream, and knows
The Possible of God,—therefore, he chose
The upward, onward;—Prophet, with song's voice
Crying, the world is glorious, rejoice!
Crying, the pain is finite here, retrieve!
Crying, the soul is infinite, believe!
This was a man eyed with a starry faith
That sees beyond the temporal dream, and knows
The Possible of God,—therefore, he chose
The upward, onward;—Prophet, with song's voice
Crying, the world is glorious, rejoice!
Crying, the pain is finite here, retrieve!
Crying, the soul is infinite, believe!
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This man made Truth his altar, by man's birth
Proclaimed man's right to joy; ceased not cry
The reign of falsehood has an end on earth,
Upward and on!—And therefore, when the lie
Gauded itself in purple, and when men fell down
To worship, this man's voice rose fearless high
And smote in lightning-flashes on the crown,
Accepting exile rather than renown;
Therefore, among the crownless kings
Write him the unsubdued,
The lyrist of all human strings,
The voice of herohood.
Proclaimed man's right to joy; ceased not cry
The reign of falsehood has an end on earth,
Upward and on!—And therefore, when the lie
Gauded itself in purple, and when men fell down
To worship, this man's voice rose fearless high
And smote in lightning-flashes on the crown,
Accepting exile rather than renown;
Therefore, among the crownless kings
Write him the unsubdued,
The lyrist of all human strings,
The voice of herohood.
This man was stern and tender, strong and mild;
The hero heart is nearest to the child;
He had the tears for human things, the touch
On mortal sorrow that availeth much:
For him was no man unredeemed or lost,
But love was lavished where the need was most;
This man took up the very outcast's shame
With such an echo that its note struck deep
Into the soul of Pity, and became
The poet pleader of all those that weep.
The hero heart is nearest to the child;
He had the tears for human things, the touch
On mortal sorrow that availeth much:
For him was no man unredeemed or lost,
But love was lavished where the need was most;
This man took up the very outcast's shame
With such an echo that its note struck deep
Into the soul of Pity, and became
The poet pleader of all those that weep.
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This man loved all things gentle, children's eyes
And maiden whiteness and young motherhood;
Call him the tolerant and the wise!
Call him the human and the good!
He did not use his gift of song
To lie adrowze in meadows green,
And wail about what might have been,
His note was this,—redeem the wrong,
The fairest crowns were ever given
Are innocence and mirth,
Leave God to work in heaven,
Work thou with love on earth!
And maiden whiteness and young motherhood;
Call him the tolerant and the wise!
Call him the human and the good!
He did not use his gift of song
To lie adrowze in meadows green,
And wail about what might have been,
His note was this,—redeem the wrong,
The fairest crowns were ever given
Are innocence and mirth,
Leave God to work in heaven,
Work thou with love on earth!
He knew the mother nature, sang aloud
Light of the sun and shadow of the cloud;
He used the eagle's wing for his song's flight,
He took the thunder in his lips to smite,
He had the rock's resistance and the sea's
Glory of change, and the wind's melodies.
He waited till the days grew long,
Till May brought back the morning song;
And now his spirit's wings that seemed
To beat against the bars,
May wander where his daring dreamed
From world to world of stars.
Light of the sun and shadow of the cloud;
He used the eagle's wing for his song's flight,
He took the thunder in his lips to smite,
He had the rock's resistance and the sea's
Glory of change, and the wind's melodies.
He waited till the days grew long,
Till May brought back the morning song;
And now his spirit's wings that seemed
To beat against the bars,
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From world to world of stars.
How shall we honour the great soul that's dead?
Oh, not this strife and clamour,—“Peace,” he said!
Join heart and hand, forbear to rave
Your petty strife at such a grave;
What matter where the mourners lay
The mask from which he fled away?
Take up his word and echo strong
His triumph-note for burial song,
Where human hearts are, there world-wide
His grave is with the glorified.
Oh, not this strife and clamour,—“Peace,” he said!
Join heart and hand, forbear to rave
Your petty strife at such a grave;
What matter where the mourners lay
The mask from which he fled away?
Take up his word and echo strong
His triumph-note for burial song,
Where human hearts are, there world-wide
His grave is with the glorified.
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THE NATURE-CHILD.
Too soon, too soon the others
Were startled out of rest,
This child was Nature-mother's,
And long lay in her breast.
Were startled out of rest,
This child was Nature-mother's,
And long lay in her breast.
Men shall not bind his going,
And he shall dwell alone,
And yet not lonely, knowing
The whole world for his own.
And he shall dwell alone,
And yet not lonely, knowing
The whole world for his own.
He shall be at peace with flowers,
And know the songs of birds,
And Nature's secret powers,
And tell it all in words.
And know the songs of birds,
And Nature's secret powers,
And tell it all in words.
He shall be warmed with summers,
And fed on gentle rains,
And know for after-comers
Such amplitude remains;
And fed on gentle rains,
And know for after-comers
Such amplitude remains;
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He shall be in the windless trances
That hold the summer noons,
And range with the star dances,
And wander with the moons;
That hold the summer noons,
And range with the star dances,
And wander with the moons;
And he shall walk at even
With the wind along the sea,
And draw the clouds from heaven,
And darken shudderingly,
With the wind along the sea,
And draw the clouds from heaven,
And darken shudderingly,
And lash the dim waves under
To threatening monster forms,
And roar out with the thunder,
And be the soul of storms.
To threatening monster forms,
And roar out with the thunder,
And be the soul of storms.
His shall be wandering places
Unwalked of earthly feet,
In the sky's dreamy spaces,
Where light and twilight meet,
Unwalked of earthly feet,
In the sky's dreamy spaces,
Where light and twilight meet,
And there the shadowy meaning
Of things not clear to sight,
Through twilight intervening
Shall pass up into light.
Of things not clear to sight,
Through twilight intervening
Shall pass up into light.
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And all dumb things shall love him,
And cast aside their fears;
And children's ways shall move him
To laughter and to tears;
And cast aside their fears;
And children's ways shall move him
To laughter and to tears;
And he will hold them dearest
Who best can understand,
Because their lives are nearest
The Nature mother-land.
Who best can understand,
Because their lives are nearest
The Nature mother-land.
He shall feel the heart of nations,
And see far things to be,
And pass through revelations
To deeper mystery.
And see far things to be,
And pass through revelations
To deeper mystery.
He shall absorb all changes,
Perceiving naught is new,
And these the wider ranges
Of old truths ever true.
Perceiving naught is new,
And these the wider ranges
Of old truths ever true.
He shall know all songs were fashioned
Before the dawn of time,
Which poets, keenly passioned,
Interpret into rhyme.
Before the dawn of time,
Which poets, keenly passioned,
Interpret into rhyme.
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He shall learn his lofty duty
To mediate with earth,
And in the womb of beauty
Beget the second birth.
To mediate with earth,
And in the womb of beauty
Beget the second birth.
And none shall be too lowly,
Too loveless to recall,
But love make all things holy,
And love be unto all;
Too loveless to recall,
But love make all things holy,
And love be unto all;
And souls that crave for pardon
Shall come to him and find
A heart no sin can harden,
A gentle voice and kind,
Shall come to him and find
A heart no sin can harden,
A gentle voice and kind,
A gentle voice of reason
That falls like April rain,
And thaws the winter's treason
For hope to grow again.
That falls like April rain,
And thaws the winter's treason
For hope to grow again.
He shall not seek for guerdon,
Nor murmur at his years,
Content to bear life's burden,
And reconciled with tears:
Nor murmur at his years,
Content to bear life's burden,
And reconciled with tears:
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He shall know the highest gladness
Is very near to pain,
That never human sadness
Was wasted or in vain;
Is very near to pain,
That never human sadness
Was wasted or in vain;
He shall learn the mystic union
That is twixt souls and things,
And dwell in that communion,
And fashion words to wings—
That is twixt souls and things,
And dwell in that communion,
And fashion words to wings—
To wings that men may borrow,
And follow where he trod,
To the sympathy with sorrow
That is the joy of God.
And follow where he trod,
To the sympathy with sorrow
That is the joy of God.
And Time shall not estrange him
To trustfulness and truth;
The years shall hardly change him,
Nor bear away his youth;
To trustfulness and truth;
The years shall hardly change him,
Nor bear away his youth;
But at the last awaking,
His upward-straining eyes
Shall know the morning breaking
Across familiar skies;
His upward-straining eyes
Shall know the morning breaking
Across familiar skies;
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And he shall wake from sleeping
As gently as at birth,
To fields of fairer reaping
Than any fields of earth.
As gently as at birth,
To fields of fairer reaping
Than any fields of earth.
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“I KNEW A POET.”
I knew a poet,—one with eyes of laughter,
A face like a sun-smile, eager as a boy,
Singing as the birds sing, trusting the hereafter—
I knew a poet, and his name was Joy!
A face like a sun-smile, eager as a boy,
Singing as the birds sing, trusting the hereafter—
I knew a poet, and his name was Joy!
I knew a poet, who had eyes for beauty
Piercing the cloud-mists, reaching over death,
Sounding the world's song like a hymn of duty,—
I knew a poet, and his name was Faith!
Piercing the cloud-mists, reaching over death,
Sounding the world's song like a hymn of duty,—
I knew a poet, and his name was Faith!
One there was also gentle as a woman,
Walking the sunless alleys of the city,
One all-compassionate, eloquently human,—
I knew a poet, and his name was Pity!
Walking the sunless alleys of the city,
One all-compassionate, eloquently human,—
I knew a poet, and his name was Pity!
But these with their loveless tissue of fair weaving,
These with the joyless musical refrain,
These letting life go blind, and unbelieving,
These looking earthward only and in vain;
These with the joyless musical refrain,
These letting life go blind, and unbelieving,
These looking earthward only and in vain;
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These that have lain in the poppy-flowers waving,
Grown where the fields turn wilderness and bare,
These with the look-back and the lotus craving,
These with the thin self-echo of despair;
Grown where the fields turn wilderness and bare,
These with the look-back and the lotus craving,
These with the thin self-echo of despair;
These ever straining after days that were not,
These with their reckless abandonment of youth,
These that restrain not, wonder not, revere not,—
These are no poets, or I know no Truth.
These with their reckless abandonment of youth,
These that restrain not, wonder not, revere not,—
These are no poets, or I know no Truth.
142
LYRICS.
I.
The form in which her spirit moved
Was like her spirit fair,
The dwelling of a soul that loved,
As innocent as prayer:
Was like her spirit fair,
The dwelling of a soul that loved,
As innocent as prayer:
And but to know her was to pray
Those young unclouded eyes
Might never see the world's highway,
And only watch the skies.
Those young unclouded eyes
Might never see the world's highway,
And only watch the skies.
II.
Though I be half of common clay,
And half of light sea foam,
Though you are near the sun-ray,
And the azure is your home,
And half of light sea foam,
Though you are near the sun-ray,
And the azure is your home,
The changing cloud renews its birth,
And when the tear-drops rain,
You cannot choose but come to earth
To get to heaven again.
And when the tear-drops rain,
You cannot choose but come to earth
To get to heaven again.
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III.
Two flowers in a world's garden,
In the dark shadow one,
And one through noons of springtide
Drawn up to see the sun.
In the dark shadow one,
And one through noons of springtide
Drawn up to see the sun.
Young flower of life, blow sun-ward
To skies of summer blue!
But I that dwell in the shadow,
What have I to do with you!
To skies of summer blue!
But I that dwell in the shadow,
What have I to do with you!
144
IN WINTER.
Heavy clouds in the waning light,
Flakes are falling feather-white,
Dreary gusts of winter blow,—
Close your window to the snow!
Flakes are falling feather-white,
Dreary gusts of winter blow,—
Close your window to the snow!
Bright and light looks all within
Now the stormy days begin,
Shadows there flit to and fro,—
Close your window to the snow!
Now the stormy days begin,
Shadows there flit to and fro,—
Close your window to the snow!
Moans the night-wind o'er the wide,
Love will hold you safe inside,
Through the falling flakes I go,—
Close your window to the snow!
Love will hold you safe inside,
Through the falling flakes I go,—
Close your window to the snow!
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SPRING'S PARDON.
Out of the sun came a spirit forth
And whispered a word in my ear,
The winds went home to the frozen North,
And the green broke over the sere:
The great clouds dreamed in the April blue,
And the spirit of love made all things new;
The whole world shook with a smile of glee,
For the songs you hear from the hawthorn tree,
The scents that the branches wave you,
And my heart sang out as a bird set free,
For the spirit of spring took hold on me,
And surely, I forgave you!
And whispered a word in my ear,
The winds went home to the frozen North,
And the green broke over the sere:
The great clouds dreamed in the April blue,
And the spirit of love made all things new;
The whole world shook with a smile of glee,
For the songs you hear from the hawthorn tree,
The scents that the branches wave you,
And my heart sang out as a bird set free,
For the spirit of spring took hold on me,
And surely, I forgave you!
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“THE PITY OF IT.”
A tiny mound of grassy earth,
And whose no word to tell,—
The little life was hardly worth
Recording when it fell.
The birthright Joy it never found,—
A cold and hungry hearth,
The city street for playing ground,
And not the flower-path.
An autumn wind that blew too soon
Unheeded bore away
The butterfly whose life's one noon
Fell on a cloudy day.
And whose no word to tell,—
The little life was hardly worth
Recording when it fell.
The birthright Joy it never found,—
A cold and hungry hearth,
The city street for playing ground,
And not the flower-path.
An autumn wind that blew too soon
Unheeded bore away
The butterfly whose life's one noon
Fell on a cloudy day.
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TO ---
Tears to weep! and a world so green,
And summer in all the air,—
A world God made to be joyful in,
And a heart so near despair;
What can I do for thee, breaking heart?
Sorrow and thou must sit apart!
And summer in all the air,—
A world God made to be joyful in,
And a heart so near despair;
What can I do for thee, breaking heart?
Sorrow and thou must sit apart!
Heart, there is this that I can see,
Only this to assign to gain,
That we do but learn what our joy might be
Through the consciousness of pain:
Now it may be pain is the price we pay
For the glimpse of a joy we shall have some day.
Only this to assign to gain,
That we do but learn what our joy might be
Through the consciousness of pain:
Now it may be pain is the price we pay
For the glimpse of a joy we shall have some day.
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SONG.
A thought that fell in the year's young prime,
But I know not whence or where,—
A dream of a world in the blossom time
With the bird's joy in the air:
When we were alone, we two, and young,
And the life to be was a song unsung;
Where the flower fields and the orchard trees
Made a paradise of the down,
And away beyond were the purple seas
And the tiny red-roofed town;
The blossom shone and the birds were gay,
It was early noon of a month of May.
But I know not whence or where,—
A dream of a world in the blossom time
With the bird's joy in the air:
When we were alone, we two, and young,
And the life to be was a song unsung;
Where the flower fields and the orchard trees
Made a paradise of the down,
And away beyond were the purple seas
And the tiny red-roofed town;
The blossom shone and the birds were gay,
It was early noon of a month of May.
There was milk-white blossom and pale red pink,
And dark red roofs by the shore;—
And it seemed no dream, but as when we think
Of a child-joy gone before,—
And you were dressed in the bridal white
With the years rolled back and the heart grown light.
Oh, world of blossom and purple sea,
And green earth under the sun!
Oh, sweet little feet that walked with me,
And true hands linked in one!
Ah, once in a life if a dream came true,
If a broken blossom could bloom anew!
And dark red roofs by the shore;—
And it seemed no dream, but as when we think
Of a child-joy gone before,—
And you were dressed in the bridal white
With the years rolled back and the heart grown light.
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And green earth under the sun!
Oh, sweet little feet that walked with me,
And true hands linked in one!
Ah, once in a life if a dream came true,
If a broken blossom could bloom anew!
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GOOD-BYE.
TO A CHILD.
Good night, and wings of angels
Beat round your little bed,
And all white hopes and holy
Be on your golden head!
Beat round your little bed,
And all white hopes and holy
Be on your golden head!
You know not why I love you,
You little lips that kiss;
But if you should remember,
Remember me with this;
You little lips that kiss;
But if you should remember,
Remember me with this;
He said that the longest journey
Was all on the road to rest;
He said the children's wisdom
Was the wisest and the best;
Was all on the road to rest;
He said the children's wisdom
Was the wisest and the best;
He said there was joy in sorrow
Far more than the tears in mirth,
And he knew there was God in heaven,
Because there was Love on earth.
Far more than the tears in mirth,
And he knew there was God in heaven,
Because there was Love on earth.
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A MEMORY.
I wish I could hear you laugh again, just one
Clear ring, your finger pointed in fun
In the unconstrained sweet way that took
The room with a ripple of life, and shook
The mind's cobwebs, in the merry play
That suffered no word of mine gainsay
Its shrill resistance;—then, I would wait
Till the storm was over, and grave as fate
Ignore the imperious child-behest,
Point out the flaw in your reason's best,
Reprove till the beautiful eyes grew sad,
As it needed penance to have been glad,
And the vehement mouth lost all its mirth
In the loveliest smile I have seen on earth,
Till you came to accord with your warm word, “friend,”
And took my word on your lips to blend
With a touch of yourself that made it new,
And felt more keenly, and twice as true,
And the way for the world was the way we knew.
Clear ring, your finger pointed in fun
In the unconstrained sweet way that took
The room with a ripple of life, and shook
The mind's cobwebs, in the merry play
That suffered no word of mine gainsay
Its shrill resistance;—then, I would wait
Till the storm was over, and grave as fate
Ignore the imperious child-behest,
Point out the flaw in your reason's best,
Reprove till the beautiful eyes grew sad,
As it needed penance to have been glad,
And the vehement mouth lost all its mirth
In the loveliest smile I have seen on earth,
Till you came to accord with your warm word, “friend,”
And took my word on your lips to blend
With a touch of yourself that made it new,
And felt more keenly, and twice as true,
And the way for the world was the way we knew.
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Now I wonder, child, as the days grow old,
Is the laugh as loud, are the lips as bold,
Is the heart as warm and the life as glad,
The pity as quick and the smile as sad?
And if ever you think of the graver eyes
That stayed your riot of swift replies,
And calmed the torrent, the while they blest
The keen life-throbbing of your unrest!
And what you do as the days go by,
And think, and whether you learn as I
That the new dreams pass and the old remain!
And I wish I could hear you laugh again!
Is the laugh as loud, are the lips as bold,
Is the heart as warm and the life as glad,
The pity as quick and the smile as sad?
And if ever you think of the graver eyes
That stayed your riot of swift replies,
And calmed the torrent, the while they blest
The keen life-throbbing of your unrest!
And what you do as the days go by,
And think, and whether you learn as I
That the new dreams pass and the old remain!
And I wish I could hear you laugh again!
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A NOCTURNE OF CHOPIN.
Gusts of the night-wind, loud and loud,
Flickering lights on a friendless plain,
Dimmed and lost in the driving rain,
Starless revel of storm and cloud,
Dark tree-lines on the ridge before,
Steeps to climb with a weary will,
And ridges beyond and o'er and o'er—
Peace, be still!
Stedfast yet through the rack o'erhead
Gleams the moon in her ring of red,
Far away where the earth-storms cease;
Far in the quiet, calmly there,
Gleams the moon like a dream of peace,
Someday, somewhere!
Flickering lights on a friendless plain,
Dimmed and lost in the driving rain,
Starless revel of storm and cloud,
Dark tree-lines on the ridge before,
Steeps to climb with a weary will,
And ridges beyond and o'er and o'er—
Peace, be still!
Stedfast yet through the rack o'erhead
Gleams the moon in her ring of red,
Far away where the earth-storms cease;
Far in the quiet, calmly there,
Gleams the moon like a dream of peace,
Someday, somewhere!
Faces, faces, wandering past,
Never the face that by sea or shore
Sought for ever I see no more,—
Loveless faces, leaves in the blast!
Night is dark and it's long till day—
These are the lips that kiss to kill,
And they whisper low and they smile alway—
Peace, be still!
Clear and true in my heart I know
Smiles the face that I long for so,
Whispers low, till the exile cease,—
Surely I wait thee, surely there,
Where the wandering feet shall rest in peace,
Someday, somewhere!
Never the face that by sea or shore
Sought for ever I see no more,—
Loveless faces, leaves in the blast!
Night is dark and it's long till day—
These are the lips that kiss to kill,
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Peace, be still!
Clear and true in my heart I know
Smiles the face that I long for so,
Whispers low, till the exile cease,—
Surely I wait thee, surely there,
Where the wandering feet shall rest in peace,
Someday, somewhere!
What is it, ever I hear you say,
Mocking echo that would seem true?
Hope, is there any for me and you?
How should I see you hidden away
Dead and buried and long ago?
Only night-mists grey and chill,
Only the drowning storm-winds blow,—
Peace, be still!
Over the world's voice clear and true
Wins the soul of a voice I knew;
Wins and wins till the storm-throes cease;
Surely I wait thee, surely there,
Where the night of doubt has a dawn of peace,
Someday, somewhere!
Mocking echo that would seem true?
Hope, is there any for me and you?
How should I see you hidden away
Dead and buried and long ago?
Only night-mists grey and chill,
Only the drowning storm-winds blow,—
Peace, be still!
Over the world's voice clear and true
Wins the soul of a voice I knew;
Wins and wins till the storm-throes cease;
Surely I wait thee, surely there,
Where the night of doubt has a dawn of peace,
Someday, somewhere!
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AT WORST.
TO—
Parceque nous avons le donte en nous.
—V.H.
—V.H.
Christmas night, and tears of rain
Beating on my window pane,
Tears of rain as though in pity
On the dreary-lighted city:
Friend, and I have need of thee—
It is not as it used to be!
Beating on my window pane,
Tears of rain as though in pity
On the dreary-lighted city:
Friend, and I have need of thee—
It is not as it used to be!
Fainter now the younger years
Die along that mist of tears,
Darker lies the way before,
And the clouds are more and more;
I am standing here alone
Seeking help and finding none,
Crying out this Christmas night
Who will make my burden light?
Like a lost child in the rain
Crying loud, and all in vain,
For the old guide back again!
Die along that mist of tears,
Darker lies the way before,
And the clouds are more and more;
I am standing here alone
Seeking help and finding none,
Crying out this Christmas night
Who will make my burden light?
Like a lost child in the rain
Crying loud, and all in vain,
For the old guide back again!
156
I have read my brother's face,
Earth is not a merry place;
Children laugh, but never after
Rings again our childhood's laughter;
Surely with increase of sorrow
Wisdom grows from morn to morrow,
And we burden life with pain
Hope may not unlearn again.
Earth is not a merry place;
Children laugh, but never after
Rings again our childhood's laughter;
Surely with increase of sorrow
Wisdom grows from morn to morrow,
And we burden life with pain
Hope may not unlearn again.
This was ever so, the best
Sought not pleasure, sought not rest;
Thinkest thou their lives were dear
Whom thou lovest to revere,
Bard, philosopher, and seer?
What was life to these who wrought
For a world that heeded not,
Wrought and taught and strove and fell
By the hands they loved too well!
Sought not pleasure, sought not rest;
Thinkest thou their lives were dear
Whom thou lovest to revere,
Bard, philosopher, and seer?
What was life to these who wrought
For a world that heeded not,
Wrought and taught and strove and fell
By the hands they loved too well!
This at least is stern and true,
They have shown thee what to do!
Follow thou, account it gain
Though thine happiness be pain!
They have shown thee what to do!
Follow thou, account it gain
Though thine happiness be pain!
157
Then there broke a little light
Down the dreariness of night:
Courage, courage, hast thou seen
Faith and doubt are near akin!
Were the future clear as day
None but fools could go astray,
None but fools could choose the gloom,
March in blindness into doom;
Little merit were it then
To be worthy, to be men!
Down the dreariness of night:
Courage, courage, hast thou seen
Faith and doubt are near akin!
Were the future clear as day
None but fools could go astray,
None but fools could choose the gloom,
March in blindness into doom;
Little merit were it then
To be worthy, to be men!
Only in a drifting sea
Still to struggle manfully,—
Little love where once we loved,
Changing hearts and friends disproved,
Though the olden hopes ring hollow,
Though ye dream effacement follow
On the brink where men despond
Seeing all so dim beyond,
Hoping little, asking less,
Full of human weariness,
Doubting—still to be as true
To the highest light we knew,
Still to choose the bitter rood,
Cling to what thy soul sees good,
Still to suffer and forbear
Doubting, this were worthy here
Still to struggle manfully,—
Little love where once we loved,
Changing hearts and friends disproved,
Though the olden hopes ring hollow,
Though ye dream effacement follow
On the brink where men despond
Seeing all so dim beyond,
Hoping little, asking less,
Full of human weariness,
Doubting—still to be as true
To the highest light we knew,
158
Cling to what thy soul sees good,
Still to suffer and forbear
Doubting, this were worthy here
Then I knew a little star
Rose and glimmered, faint and far,
And a feeble light was cast
Up the shadows of the past.
Something surely time can save
From the silence of the grave,
Surely, though for days to come
Wail of prophecy be dumb,
Yet prophetic are those years
In the writing of their tears:
Something clearer now we know
Dark to wisdom long ago;
Beauty lives and truth survives,
Harvested from fleeting lives,
More and more new day by day
Olden sorrows wane away,
Nothing sinks from good to worse
In the Ordered Universe.
Rose and glimmered, faint and far,
And a feeble light was cast
Up the shadows of the past.
Something surely time can save
From the silence of the grave,
Surely, though for days to come
Wail of prophecy be dumb,
Yet prophetic are those years
In the writing of their tears:
Something clearer now we know
Dark to wisdom long ago;
Beauty lives and truth survives,
Harvested from fleeting lives,
More and more new day by day
Olden sorrows wane away,
Nothing sinks from good to worse
In the Ordered Universe.
159
Brighter burns the little star,
Brighter light, but not less far;
Watch and watch and hold it fast,
Hope may turn to faith at last.
Brighter light, but not less far;
Watch and watch and hold it fast,
Hope may turn to faith at last.
Therefore this is stern and true,
Well thou knowest what to do,
Labour on, and be thy fear
Not to read thy duty clear.
Wouldst thou rest upon the way,
Waste in sleep thy little day,
Murmur that the road is rough!
Time for sleep is long enough.
Up and do thy little best,
Soon thou canst not choose but rest!
Well thou knowest what to do,
Labour on, and be thy fear
Not to read thy duty clear.
Wouldst thou rest upon the way,
Waste in sleep thy little day,
Murmur that the road is rough!
Time for sleep is long enough.
Up and do thy little best,
Soon thou canst not choose but rest!
Thou hast seen and thou must choose,
Only cowards dare refuse,
Choose, enough for thee to know,
Garnered from the long ago
Beauty lives, and Truth survives,
Harvest of unnumbered lives:
Therefore trebly fool to lie,
With thyself shall falsehood die!
Folly shall be dumb with thee
Down the dumb eternity!
Only cowards dare refuse,
Choose, enough for thee to know,
Garnered from the long ago
Beauty lives, and Truth survives,
Harvest of unnumbered lives:
160
With thyself shall falsehood die!
Folly shall be dumb with thee
Down the dumb eternity!
Brighter beacons that sure Star
Where the hopes of ages are,
Plainer grows the upward road
Where the feet we follow trod!
Look what have they to oppose
In the stronghold of our foes!
We at least can suffer long
Whom that Star of Hope makes strong!
In the shadow dead and past
They shall all be lost at last.
Where the hopes of ages are,
Plainer grows the upward road
Where the feet we follow trod!
Look what have they to oppose
In the stronghold of our foes!
We at least can suffer long
Whom that Star of Hope makes strong!
In the shadow dead and past
They shall all be lost at last.
Yet the wall must be assailed
Where 'tis hardest to be scaled,
Where the fight goes man for man
Plant thy foot-hold in the van!
Wide the fosses ridge to ridge,
Fallen bodies build a bridge,
Stand or fall, heed not thy loss,
Surer feet shall win across!
Where 'tis hardest to be scaled,
Where the fight goes man for man
Plant thy foot-hold in the van!
Wide the fosses ridge to ridge,
Fallen bodies build a bridge,
161
Surer feet shall win across!
Friend, how many storms together
You and I have yet to weather!
—We who once in clouded youth
Tried to find the Star of Truth—
Arm by arm and knee by knee
In the foremost of the free,
Till the fight of years be done,
And the Quiet Rest is won,
Till the new dawn gather fast,
Moonless night be overpast,
And the light break through at last.
You and I have yet to weather!
—We who once in clouded youth
Tried to find the Star of Truth—
Arm by arm and knee by knee
In the foremost of the free,
Till the fight of years be done,
And the Quiet Rest is won,
Till the new dawn gather fast,
Moonless night be overpast,
And the light break through at last.
1882.
162
AT BEST.
Nothing on earth like a noon of June!
In a quiet place with the heart in tune
Just to lie while the hours run
Watching and silent and drunk with sun!
Where you will so where flowers are,
And the noise of men and the whirl are far,
Just to listen and feel at rest
As here I lie on the earth's warm breast:
To look at the marvel of life that stirs
Where the meadow meets with the last great firs
At the dark wood's margin, and then to list
To the voice of Nature the optimist;
While the birds and butterflies come and go,
And the best for them is the way they know,
And the grasses whisper, how well to be
On the meadows breast with the sun to see,
And the tree-arms wave and the lowliest one
Unenvied lifts for its share of sun.
And I heard of the brown bee, heather and thyme
Are more than the rose of the Paradise clime,
And the little larks, the mid-sky elves,
Said, how the poor world folk fret themselves,
While the mead in dew and the morning sky
Were made for singing, and so sing I.
In a quiet place with the heart in tune
Just to lie while the hours run
Watching and silent and drunk with sun!
Where you will so where flowers are,
And the noise of men and the whirl are far,
Just to listen and feel at rest
As here I lie on the earth's warm breast:
To look at the marvel of life that stirs
Where the meadow meets with the last great firs
At the dark wood's margin, and then to list
To the voice of Nature the optimist;
While the birds and butterflies come and go,
And the best for them is the way they know,
And the grasses whisper, how well to be
On the meadows breast with the sun to see,
And the tree-arms wave and the lowliest one
Unenvied lifts for its share of sun.
And I heard of the brown bee, heather and thyme
Are more than the rose of the Paradise clime,
163
Said, how the poor world folk fret themselves,
While the mead in dew and the morning sky
Were made for singing, and so sing I.
Then wakes on a sudden the even-wind
From its noon-day drowse in the trees behind,
Whispering “hush,” as it rustles through;
And the grasshoppers have a deal to do,
The beetle booms by the hedge-row way,
So busy at eve for his sleep all day,
The moth awakes, with “it's time for me,”
And drops like a down from the willow-tree,
The daisies close in the knee-deep hay,
And the sun-blind bats come out to play,
The twilight air has a scent of dew,
Shadows deepen and stars ensue.
From its noon-day drowse in the trees behind,
Whispering “hush,” as it rustles through;
And the grasshoppers have a deal to do,
The beetle booms by the hedge-row way,
So busy at eve for his sleep all day,
The moth awakes, with “it's time for me,”
And drops like a down from the willow-tree,
The daisies close in the knee-deep hay,
And the sun-blind bats come out to play,
The twilight air has a scent of dew,
Shadows deepen and stars ensue.
This is the help when the love-springs dry
For the weary heart and the world-scared eye,
When the ranges narrow and hope is tired,
And the skies are dark for the vain-desired,
To turn again to the quiet way,
To pause and listen and learn to say,
We had sought amiss for the test of truth,
The joy is here and the ageless youth,
The cloud dispelled and the hope renewed,
The trust, the power, the certitude.
For the weary heart and the world-scared eye,
When the ranges narrow and hope is tired,
And the skies are dark for the vain-desired,
164
To pause and listen and learn to say,
We had sought amiss for the test of truth,
The joy is here and the ageless youth,
The cloud dispelled and the hope renewed,
The trust, the power, the certitude.
165
“WHETHER IN DAWN'S GREY GOLD.”
Whether in dawn's grey gold, or in the noon
Serene, or under the red bars
Of sunset, or in nights of cloud-blown moon,
Or in the moonless company of stars;
Serene, or under the red bars
Of sunset, or in nights of cloud-blown moon,
Or in the moonless company of stars;
Whether in winter with the jewelled snows,
Or in the lifting impulse of the spring,
Or when the summer's bridal beauty blows,
Or autumn reddens to the garnering,—
Or in the lifting impulse of the spring,
Or when the summer's bridal beauty blows,
Or autumn reddens to the garnering,—
Oh, silent sequence of eternal laws!
O earth, and sun and moons and stars that range,
I trace the intent and the unknown cause
In all your voiceless eloquence of change:
O earth, and sun and moons and stars that range,
I trace the intent and the unknown cause
In all your voiceless eloquence of change:
How thou sufficest, nature, needest not
The strong man's effort or the weak man's wail,
The thing remembered or the thing forgot,
Secure and only impotent to fail!
The strong man's effort or the weak man's wail,
The thing remembered or the thing forgot,
Secure and only impotent to fail!
O earth, in thee is anything out worn,
Has any loveliness endured to die?
One least good passed that shall not be reborn
To nobler use and more abundantly!
Has any loveliness endured to die?
One least good passed that shall not be reborn
To nobler use and more abundantly!
166
And wouldst thou put eternity to test,
Holding the witness of thy one day past!
Look down the aftertime and stand confessed
And wildered with the infinite at last!
Holding the witness of thy one day past!
Look down the aftertime and stand confessed
And wildered with the infinite at last!
Have we not sounded all philosophies
Up to the threshold of the door of death,
To acknowledge only that no knowledge is,
Nor aught to rest on if it be not faith?
Up to the threshold of the door of death,
To acknowledge only that no knowledge is,
Nor aught to rest on if it be not faith?
This is the end of knowledge, long desired,
That night will follow and day-dreams depart;
Lay down thy longings—thou art very tired—
In calm submission on the great world's heart;
That night will follow and day-dreams depart;
Lay down thy longings—thou art very tired—
In calm submission on the great world's heart;
Be trust thy triumph—having learned to mark
The straining upward and the growth of years,
The light returning alway through the dark,
The ample harvest of the ancient tears,
The straining upward and the growth of years,
The light returning alway through the dark,
The ample harvest of the ancient tears,
The Nothing falling to the earth in vain,
The sense that winds around us and above,
A promise breathing in the heart of pain
Conviction and supremacy of Love.
The sense that winds around us and above,
A promise breathing in the heart of pain
Conviction and supremacy of Love.
167
CREDO.
I will sing a song for the toilers, the song of the open ways,
The poem of human effort, the song of the works and days.
The poem of human effort, the song of the works and days.
Come down by the crowded river,—do you think there are no songs here?
I will show you the song of songs, and the meaning of songs made clear;
I will show you the song of songs, and the meaning of songs made clear;
In the tune of the hands that fashion, in the workers working aline,
The forge and the anvil smitten, and the marvel of long design:
The forge and the anvil smitten, and the marvel of long design:
Where the masts of the myriad ships reach far as the eye may scan,
And every stroke on the iron rings out the glory of man,
And every stroke on the iron rings out the glory of man,
168
Tall pine of the snow-fed Norseland, oak strength of our island trees,
The might of the earth's surrender sent forth to fight with the seas:
The might of the earth's surrender sent forth to fight with the seas:
Like a thought from the brain of a poet shall she fare with her sails unfurled
From the heart of the city of nations, the great pulsebeat of the world:
From the heart of the city of nations, the great pulsebeat of the world:
She shall lie becalmed on the waters in the glare of the sultry noons,
She shall glide through phosphor waves, as they read by the tropic moons:
She shall glide through phosphor waves, as they read by the tropic moons:
And the mariner's boy shall wonder at the large unwonted stars,
The winged fish under her bow, and the strange birds lit on her spars.
The winged fish under her bow, and the strange birds lit on her spars.
O world not weary or old, fair world immortally new,
Speed fresh pioneers to battle with the infinite work to do!
Speed fresh pioneers to battle with the infinite work to do!
169
Strike thou on the bolt exulting, young man with the knotted chest,
For the stroke of thine arm endures, and the worst gives way to the best!
For the stroke of thine arm endures, and the worst gives way to the best!
Strike form and design and triumph from the old eternal strife,
Through the force controlled and mastered infuse the matter with life!
Through the force controlled and mastered infuse the matter with life!
Now out on the craven adage, let it be with the ancient graves
The cry of the curse of labour, for that was the cry of slaves!
The cry of the curse of labour, for that was the cry of slaves!
Let it speak to you this world's wonder, this conquering force and mind,
Oh, open your hearts, long-sleepers, and open your eyes, long blind!
Oh, open your hearts, long-sleepers, and open your eyes, long blind!
Take heart, oh labouring strength, strike sure, on masterly hands!
By the will informed on the conquered mass, the dream of the world expands;
By the will informed on the conquered mass, the dream of the world expands;
170
All things grow possible now, thought's range has a wider scope,
The germ of faith in the things achieved is the seed of an infinite hope.
The germ of faith in the things achieved is the seed of an infinite hope.
God's Now is a myriad years, and ye say that the end is long,
That the host will not be gathered, nor the hands of the few be strong;
That the host will not be gathered, nor the hands of the few be strong;
A little while and a while we wait,—for the strength that the years beget,
To be bold for the strong conviction, have done with the half-regret,
To be bold for the strong conviction, have done with the half-regret,
To dare to confront and break through the old and the time-endeared,
To endure the imputed motive, and smile when the heart is seared.
To endure the imputed motive, and smile when the heart is seared.
For the price must be paid of purchase, and bitter it is to win,
It was lonelier once and darker, when of old they dared to begin;
It was lonelier once and darker, when of old they dared to begin;
171
But I know it must all come true, I have hope for the by-and-bye,
Or what were the wise men's wisdom, and why did the brave men die?
Or what were the wise men's wisdom, and why did the brave men die?
They carried a whole world's burden to a desolate grave for this;
How the lips that shall love hereafter will breathe their names in a kiss!
How the lips that shall love hereafter will breathe their names in a kiss!
But the ways shall divide before us, the songs of all lands combine
In the loud victorious music that rings for the battle sign!
In the loud victorious music that rings for the battle sign!
O child of the earth, who art thou, to sit in thy dumb despair?
Lo, thine old immortal mother is young for ever and fair,
Lo, thine old immortal mother is young for ever and fair,
With dower of all creations, enriched, she that cannot lose
Earth, generous, all-accepting, for whom doth the earth refuse?
Earth, generous, all-accepting, for whom doth the earth refuse?
172
All matter and hope and power, and range of a thousand lands,
She hath given us unwithholding. Who is it hath bound our hands?
She hath given us unwithholding. Who is it hath bound our hands?
We shall call them forth from the cities, away to the fields of birth,
Not one shall be disherited, one hopeless in the earth.
Not one shall be disherited, one hopeless in the earth.
Oh, you that stand in the sunlight, unearned, could you not forego
A share of your sun-warmed hill sweep for these in the shade below?
A share of your sun-warmed hill sweep for these in the shade below?
You should be so glad to beckon, to call them up from their night,
To watch for the form and order that is born in your own fair light:
To watch for the form and order that is born in your own fair light:
For never was aught lacked beauty, aught failed since the world began,
In body or soul deformed to see, but the wrong was done of man.
In body or soul deformed to see, but the wrong was done of man.
173
Have you fear for the chance of changes, is the bitter sweet of the past
The best that you dare to dream of, God's scheme for the world at last?
The best that you dare to dream of, God's scheme for the world at last?
Do you think that there is no way but the worn unlovely road,
And there in the perfumed places are you casting about for God?
And there in the perfumed places are you casting about for God?
If you knew how safe is the truth, how little avail your Noes,
How the seed swells into the shoot, and how surely the young tree grows!
How the seed swells into the shoot, and how surely the young tree grows!
How truth is above your gauge, how it takes no count of the years,
How we smile at your half concessions, the doubt, the regrets, the fears!
How we smile at your half concessions, the doubt, the regrets, the fears!
For what have you strained to outstrip, hope winning of what in your strife?
Is there anything worth the winning in the antics you call life?
Is there anything worth the winning in the antics you call life?
174
I am sad for you all, my brothers, to yourselves is the greater wrong,
You have seen but a part of the purpose, sung one bar out of the song.
You have seen but a part of the purpose, sung one bar out of the song.
Still somewhere hidden away, like the pearl on the ocean shelf,
With the drift and the sea's weed hiding, is the old god-imaged self;
With the drift and the sea's weed hiding, is the old god-imaged self;
And I wish I could find some word that would ring on that soul's self true,
To pierce through the unessential to the pearl in the heart of you:
To pierce through the unessential to the pearl in the heart of you:
To strip you clean to the soul, of the mask, the seeming, the name,
And leave you naked and bare, to your beauty and in your shame.
And leave you naked and bare, to your beauty and in your shame.
Turn, turn from the forms and symbols, look into the heart instead,
There is more in the heart to guide than the words of the wisest head!
There is more in the heart to guide than the words of the wisest head!
175
Where over all wandering mists, like a glory of light breaks through
On the love of the same things lovely, the sense of the same things true.
On the love of the same things lovely, the sense of the same things true.
Therefore let us bar our hearts to never a man that lives,
For wider is love than life is, and I know that it grows as it gives.
For wider is love than life is, and I know that it grows as it gives.
Is there one that is self-absorbed dare look at the sky and sea?
Can hate dwell under the starlight, in the sun can a mean thing be?
Can hate dwell under the starlight, in the sun can a mean thing be?
Oh, all you great of the earth, come and read your lives in the graves!
On the lordly one and the lowly the tuft of the wild grass waves.
On the lordly one and the lowly the tuft of the wild grass waves.
Do you see what has lived behind them, do you think when your days are sweet,
On these that have smoothed your highway with travel of weary feet?
On these that have smoothed your highway with travel of weary feet?
176
Look, never one soft word spoken dies out on the quivering air,
But the load of the years is lightened, and the joy of it everywhere!
But the load of the years is lightened, and the joy of it everywhere!
Here is love for you dead and nameless! Not in vain did one of you fall,
And the bond of the same wide being makes kinsmen out of us all:
And the bond of the same wide being makes kinsmen out of us all:
There was count of them all before us, there was need of the lowliest ones,
I am child of you all, O fathers, and brother of you, O sons!
I am child of you all, O fathers, and brother of you, O sons!
From you what the years inherit, the vast bewildering plan,
The light that is guide to effort, the hope and the help for man:
The light that is guide to effort, the hope and the help for man:
And strong by the strength you gave them the wise of the world are calm,
Where the riot and clamour of voices are lost in a louder psalm;
Where the riot and clamour of voices are lost in a louder psalm;
177
And shapes as of endless idols, this one with the hands red dyed,
The prince and the priest and the bigot, the saint with the bleeding side,
The prince and the priest and the bigot, the saint with the bleeding side,
The chief and the crouching figures, the changeful murmur and cry,
The strain and urge of the moment, all this goes wildering by:
The strain and urge of the moment, all this goes wildering by:
They are grown far-off and unreal, with the murmur of their complaint,
They are shadows at war with shadows, and the wail of them waxes faint;
They are shadows at war with shadows, and the wail of them waxes faint;
Turn, turn from the cave's dark hollow! look up to the light and see,
Though thine eyes be dazed in the glory, the man that is yet to be!
Though thine eyes be dazed in the glory, the man that is yet to be!
Time's wings are at pause beside him, and calm is his heart's strong beat,
And the dust of these old dominions is flowerful round his feet.
And the dust of these old dominions is flowerful round his feet.
178
Exult, we have won the midway, and the light has scared the gloom,
And we smile at the old sad sentence, we are freed from the endless doom.
And we smile at the old sad sentence, we are freed from the endless doom.
Not heirs of a forfeit Godhead, degenerate, waning away,
But climbing, and all too slowly, from darkness into the day.
But climbing, and all too slowly, from darkness into the day.
There is light in my eyes of dawning, of a fair world weary of sleep,
I see the new peopling islands, dominions over the deep,
I see the new peopling islands, dominions over the deep,
Away to the ancient forests, and the wilds that are yet unwon,
Where the envious growth of creepers goes rivalling up to the sun;
Where the envious growth of creepers goes rivalling up to the sun;
Where the streams of the orient land roll out through their gates of gold,
Where the dizziest mountain summits were shrines of the faiths of old,
Where the dizziest mountain summits were shrines of the faiths of old,
179
Where the well of the desert waters gives life to the lonely tree,
Where the tent of the turbaned nomad is set by the inland sea.
Where the tent of the turbaned nomad is set by the inland sea.
From the zone of the torrid summers to the uttermost ways of snow,
From the inland-men to the island-men shall the greeting of good-will go:
From the inland-men to the island-men shall the greeting of good-will go:
Peace, peace on the earth for ever, and we all forgotten so long,
But the air that they breathe is holy because of our sighs and song.
But the air that they breathe is holy because of our sighs and song.
And their maids shall be pure as morning, their youth shall be taught no lie,
But the way shall be smooth and open for all men under the sky;
But the way shall be smooth and open for all men under the sky;
They will build their new romances, new dreams of a world to be,
Conceive a sublimer out-come than the end of the world we see,
Conceive a sublimer out-come than the end of the world we see,
180
And the shadow shall pass we dwell in, till under the self-same sun
The names of the myriad nations are writ in the name of one;
The names of the myriad nations are writ in the name of one;
What once in the dark strife ages the young Macedonian planned,
When he flung his Bœotian chlamys by the sea on the Nile-mouth sand,
When he flung his Bœotian chlamys by the sea on the Nile-mouth sand,
Saying, Here will I build me a city for all in their right of birth,
For my undivided nation, my people of all the earth.
For my undivided nation, my people of all the earth.
He that had dared to reason with the wisest man of the wise,
And had looked to a grander vision with his young world-conquering eyes,
And had looked to a grander vision with his young world-conquering eyes,
Who scorned at the Master's saying, of the born to be slave or free,
Seeing one same sun over all men, one wide earth girdling sea.
Seeing one same sun over all men, one wide earth girdling sea.
181
Rest, dead pioneers, rest well, bright spirits, and be content,
It is near on the day to march in, the night of the years is spent!
It is near on the day to march in, the night of the years is spent!
The arms of the dawn are reaching to gather the mist away,
And your star that the hill-peaks harboured grows dim in the rose of day.
And your star that the hill-peaks harboured grows dim in the rose of day.
I can see as it were in a vision the fulness of day unroll,
And the light of the sunrise cresting the hills with its aureole,
And the light of the sunrise cresting the hills with its aureole,
First red in the sky at dawning, wild cloud and the bode of storm,
But the winds are hushed and the clouds dispart for the feet of a queenly from.
But the winds are hushed and the clouds dispart for the feet of a queenly from.
On her brows is a crown of olive, her arms are outstretched afar,
She is robed in a rainbow's glory, and each of her eyes is a star.
She is robed in a rainbow's glory, and each of her eyes is a star.
182
The sword that she bears is broken, the arc of her wings is furled,
She is throned on the ancient mountains, and her smile goes over the world.
She is throned on the ancient mountains, and her smile goes over the world.
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