Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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WHITE HANDS. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
WHITE HANDS.
I had a longing for white hands, that waved
In some dim land of moonlight
That knew no garish noonlight,
Where never wind of trouble roamed and raved;
Where all was hushed and holy,
The falling leaf fell slowly,
And none for aught in that sweet plenty craved;
Where hope sufficed to have, and will was power
And rushed in ripe fruition,
Without the long transition
Of seed and blade and bud, to perfect flower;
I had a longing for white hands, that called for me in evening lands.
In some dim land of moonlight
That knew no garish noonlight,
Where never wind of trouble roamed and raved;
Where all was hushed and holy,
The falling leaf fell slowly,
And none for aught in that sweet plenty craved;
Where hope sufficed to have, and will was power
And rushed in ripe fruition,
Without the long transition
Of seed and blade and bud, to perfect flower;
I had a longing for white hands, that called for me in evening lands.
I sought the vision of white hands, that lay
In beauty more than blessing
And peace beyond caressing,
On love as shadows on a dying day;
That with no mortal motion
In tune with my devotion
Might for a honeyed season with me stay;
I knew a magic virtue flowed from such,
And in a passion tender
My spirit to full splendour
Would leap beneath that soft transforming touch;
I sought a vision of white hands, where purple waves kissed golden sands.
In beauty more than blessing
And peace beyond caressing,
On love as shadows on a dying day;
That with no mortal motion
In tune with my devotion
Might for a honeyed season with me stay;
I knew a magic virtue flowed from such,
And in a passion tender
My spirit to full splendour
Would leap beneath that soft transforming touch;
I sought a vision of white hands, where purple waves kissed golden sands.
I found the healing of white hands, that fell
As dew on grass at morning,
Just in their own adorning,
As gentle starlight on the city bell;
And O the quiet rapture
Of that exceeding capture,
Which opened in my breast its hidden well!
And not by vulgar ways with sordid hire
Did I attain the wonder,
And burst my bars asunder,
I passed to it through angry flood and fire;
I found the healing of white hands, that were to me as God's commands.
As dew on grass at morning,
Just in their own adorning,
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And O the quiet rapture
Of that exceeding capture,
Which opened in my breast its hidden well!
And not by vulgar ways with sordid hire
Did I attain the wonder,
And burst my bars asunder,
I passed to it through angry flood and fire;
I found the healing of white hands, that were to me as God's commands.
I keep the glory of white hands, that lie
Upon my brow and bosom,
And make my being blossom
And link to love with sacramental tie;
They come with kindly graces
From sweet and sudden places,
And build for me the home that cannot die;
Before the dawning or when lights are low,
And owls begin to stutter,
I feel, I hear them flutter
Betwixt the earth and heaven in gloom and glow;
I keep the glory of white hands, that bind my heart like wedding-bands.
Upon my brow and bosom,
And make my being blossom
And link to love with sacramental tie;
They come with kindly graces
From sweet and sudden places,
And build for me the home that cannot die;
Before the dawning or when lights are low,
And owls begin to stutter,
I feel, I hear them flutter
Betwixt the earth and heaven in gloom and glow;
I keep the glory of white hands, that bind my heart like wedding-bands.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |