Narcissus and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

See, pure and pale, athwart the gale
Gay streamers of the wild red rose;
While, far behind, with white foam lined,
The broad green sea careering flows;

112

And all around, to the utmost bound,
Cliff caught on cliff, and range on range;
Earth's garment bright, spread out in light,
And figured o'er with endless change

Beneath the crowds of white-rimmed clouds
That sail together within the blue,
And bar green lands with purple bands
Which fading fringe the distant view.

And far across the yellow gorse
And blooming heather embossed in green
Sky and sea have kissed in luminous mist—
A glorious veil of silver sheen.

The bee on her way takes holiday,
Flitting at will from flower to flower;
The spider spreads his amber threads,
All careless of to-morrow's shower.

The harebell laughs as the clover quaffs
His delicate draught of morning dew;
Each bird upsprings and joyously sings,
And all are singing to me and you.

113

O come with me, O come with me,
All day together by land and sea;
What matters to know of whither we go,
If only together we two be?

114

IN A CANOE.

From shade to light, from light to shade,
The overbending boughs between,
I glide, as in a fairy glade,
Till the sweet summer day is made
A melody of summer green.
The meadows all are clothed with light,
As with a garment, and the heat
Swims dreamful where the grass is dight
With ox-eye daisies and the white
Of lady's-smock and meadow-sweet.
And clear-cut in the quiet air
Move large brown outlines of the cows,
That nose Earth's verdure fresh and fair
And scatter far its perfume where

115

With peaceful onward push they browse.
Beside the brink the swift stream lags,
And spreads its liquid arms to cool
The golden-flowered phalanx of flags
Whereby the water-wagtail wags
Its mirrored head in many a pool.
And here a swallow lightly skims
Or strikes the broad flood, breast to breast,
And there in shady hollow swims
The lazy roach beneath wet rims
Of water-lilies, where they rest.
Here by an overhanging bank
The sunlit soft transparent wave
Reveals a myriad lives that prank
In giddy dance within the dank
Deep water-world which is their grave;
And there a wild rose overblown
Showers red rain on the shining way,
And the fair moving fields are sown
With countless blossoms random-thrown
And gliding downwards with the day;
And here and there a willow dips
And dallies with the dimpling plain,
But evermore the river slips

116

Onward—as from a maiden's lips
Some low melodious refrain.
And with a soft and rippling sound
The little bark fleets onward too,
By bushy brake and meadow-bound,
The swimming swirling curves around,
Till in a slumbrous swoon the view
Slides swiftly shifting, and the shades
Grow longer, and the evening light
Dies, and the sunset splendour fades
Slowly against the stars of night.

117

VENUS APHRODITE.

I

Once when, as ever since the world began,
Dawn touched the silver level of the sea,
And like a golden shield of growing span
Crept on the land of twilight stealthily;
The Sun, yet sunk below his eastern lea,
Whence all the heavenly limits he could mark,
As Perseus through Medusa's locks, in glee
Shot all his shining fingers through the Dark,
And once more laid the monster motionless and stark.

II

In that day for the inhabitants of Earth
And Heaven, moving in darkness heretofore,
A vision of high beauty came to birth
Amid the foam of Ocean's eastern shore:

120

Such as the Gods, who tread their golden floor,
And mortals, dwellers in the orange grove
Domed with aerial blue, in all their lore
Feigned not in earth below or sky above,
Yet, seeing, made the queen and regent of their love.

III

For while the waves danced onward o'er the deep,
As at the first day bright and bluely clear,
And morning mounting up the saffron steep
In opaline pure splendour did appear
Pavilioning with flame the ocean-sphere;
A mist shot upward from the shining main,
A deep blush brightened through it, like a tear
That trembles on a rosebud after rain
And glows with heightened hue on what it cannot stain.

IV

One cloud-like moment in the air it hung;
And then the Sun, in eastern state confest,
Great level arms along the ocean flung,
Giving to each swart wave a golden crest,

121

And let one finger on the foambell rest,
Which, like a hollow fretted crystalline
Of some rich secret rudely dispossessed,
Sundered and parted in the bright sunshine,
Showing the Foamborn in her beauty made divine.

V

A sunbow bent above her for a sign,
The spray embowered her in brilliant rain,
Her rosy feet upon the hyaline
Danced lightly like rose-petals o'er a plain;
Heaven was her canopy, a lofty fane
For incense and for music and high mirth,
Her laughing eyes, turned sunward, did detain
As in a mirror, all the smiles of Earth
Made happier because of beauty's perfect birth.

VI

With one hand half uplifted did she hold
Her fair locks from her in a shining band,
As if to match the sunlight with their gold
Glittering with ocean-dew; the other hand

122

Sustained a robe sea-woven of glaucous strand,
Which veiled her limbs as softly as the moon
Glimmers where dawn-illumined mountains stand
Rosy in snow, or as in leafy June
The glowing foliage holds yet hides the hot midnoon.

VII

And where she stood the waves on every side
Fell from her into many a hollow space
And fair concavity, as though they tried
To keep the impress of her rounded grace
In inverse beauty; like a crystal case,
Broken to free some glory of art, they lay,
But shifting ever as to catch a trace
Of that fair model, till in fair dismay
They spread and died upon the distance far away.

VIII

For with divine consent from arm to arm,
From breast to brow, the lines of beauty run
And shift and flow with ever-changing charm
Which nothing can detain beneath the sun;

123

And like a silver fount that seems to shun
Even momentary rest, but ever flows
In wasteful beauty till the day is done,
Lovely in loss, since loveless in repose,
So rich in love's regret fair Aphrodite rose.

IX

And Neptune's children from the emerald gloom
Of ocean caverns, in a boisterous pack
Played round about her path of roseate bloom—
Sea-nymph and Triton in a foamy track,
With winds and water-sprites and cloudy rack
Of morning, and the mountains seen afar—
Orbed in one onward course which grew not slack
Till Venus, mounting on her dove-drawn car,
Went heavenward through the blue vault like a glistening star.

X

Therefore when Gorgon-headed Night was gone—
In labyrinthine marble calm and dread
Unearthly glitter, death to look upon—
Beauty arose to birth, and so was wed

124

To every dawn-lit dell and mountain-head
And dream of man; wherewith in flowing guise
Unto the heavenly lands she lightly sped,
To be Earth's lovely envoy in the skies
And chosen Cynosure of Gods' and mortals' eyes.

125

A SUMMER DAY.

Love from the mountains led his sheep,
Once, on a summer day,
Into a valley green and deep,
Under rock-ramparts gray;

Sat on a stone where the waters run
Rippling the hours away,
Touched his lute in the light of the sun,—
That was a summer day;

Prayed in his heart for love which is fair,
Prayed as the lonely pray;
Love which is fire when life is air
Laden with fragrant May;

128

And as the leaflets lisped, and their shade
Shifted like emerald spray,
Paused and peered evermore as he prayed
Love might pass that way.

Then from the meads below the vale,
Love, with a high sweet song,
Came through the thickets, where roses trail
Elder-bushes among;

Reeled as she went a homely thread
Spun from a distaff-prong,
Singing until her heart was wed
Unto her own clear song;

Sang to the light and the sun-lit glen,
Prayed for love which is strong;
Love which leads with a light look, when
Life cannot bind with a thong.

And as she wound by the hedgerows, where
Daisies and buttercups throng,
Listened and looked evermore, lest there
Love might reply to her song.

129

So the sheep, as the day grew red,
Straggled and went astray;
Out of a listless hand the thread
Leapt, and was lost on the way;

But ere Night o'er the mountains mute
Wafted her wings along,
Love met love below, and the lute
Tuned itself to the song.

130

THE PEAK OF TERROR.

Upward all day we toiled athwart the rain,
Henry and I, through Alpine pastures green
And great firwoods that overhung the vale
Far spread below; but ever, as evening fell,
Day's cloudy curtain parted, and the mists
Thinned more and more, and fled among the hills,
Or dropped beneath, or clung in silver threads
To tresses of dim forest; and we saw
A clear blue arch of space spanned high above,
And, burning behind the utmost mountain edge,
Gold altar-glories of the stricken sun.
And high amid the snows we found a crag,
Hung darkly on that argent slope, within
Stamped hollow as by rage of Titan foot;

131

And there we lit the flame, and made ourselves
Good cheer, while round us dreamed a silent world.

But ere we slept, he, my beloved, arose
And lightly left our firelit cave and stood
Night-circled on a jutting rock beyond;
And with the setting stars about his head
And at his feet that purple vale profound,
He sang the song he sings me evermore.
He sang to watchful heaven and weary earth,
To glittering peak and star and crescent moon,
And high Love, and the loveworn Heart of all.
And all the vales were filled with melody,
And o'er the wide wide night and clear profound,
And over the blank snows and barren crags,
His song came floating back unto his feet:
Unto his feet, and deep into my heart,
There as I lay by the fire and saw him stand,
Saw him there in the night, and see him now,
Now, and for ever.

For he came not back.
At morning dawn, when earth was dashed with light,
Beside the golden summit he slipped and fell,
And slid, and passed to his own home beyond.

132

THE VEILED ISIS, OR THE NATURE WORSHIPPER.

Εγω ειμι παν το γεγονος και ον κα εσομενον και τον εμον πεπλον ουδεις πω θνητος απεκαλυψε.

Now know I that the white-winged hours of heaven
'Twixt me and thee in endless retinue,
Each after each, shall pass; nor ever pause
To lift the least light corner of thy veil,
Or grant thine eyes to mine. O hidden One,
Supreme-set Mother of all mystery,
And myriad-named of men, now know I well
Thou dost endure us but a moment's span
Upon thy heaving bosom, to behold

133

The wonder of thy movement, at thy grace
To fall and worship ay, we know not what!
And then, or ever thou hast heard, to fall
And pass, remembering ourselves and thee
No more. O strange, O unassailable,
Thou that with myriad bright play of eyes
Provokest our desire, thy seamless robe,
Set close about for our bewilderment,
Folds thee in perfect proof. For I have toiled
And tarried long by thy familiar ways,
Have known thee going out and coming in,
And watched thy daily wont; have felt the flame
Flash from thy face almost to scathe mine eyes,
And heard at night thy breath about my ears
Beat, and pass quickly by; yea, I have tracked
Thy fingers in and out through woven clouds,
And passionless ebb and flow of waves and streams,
And rockings of the air, only to know
The weft is woven without any flaw
From flight of stars to atoms: rent is none,
No gap, no visionary gleam, and Thou
Art hid for ever.

Therefore now, once more,
I see the Spring descend upon the Earth—

134

The new life quivering upwards into light;
I see the plaited green on plant and tree
Slide from the soil and break the knotted bark;
The grey elm quickens with a strange delight;
The golden chestnut-buds against the blue
Gleam like a thousand lamps; and melody
Thrills through the woodland air. O now once more
The primal splendour of the sun returns
With a most welcome triumph. Thorn and may
Stand white with bridal blossom unto him;
The ground is cloven, and the sleeping flowers
Have heard and known their lord: Through wood and dell
Yellow primroses leap and peer to heaven—
He rideth by begirt with azure wings—
And bloom and beauty multitudinous
Break on his path. The violet stands by
Glad in her grassy covert. In the meads
Like angel hosts white daisies wave their wings,
And as he passes bend like one and rise,
And, while he fires with light the Western lands,
Close their bright eyes and blush for very joy.
Once more o'er vale and mountain do I hear
The voice of Spring's sweet trouble: nightingales

135

And thrushes in the thicket numberless
Tremble to utter on the quiet air
The mystery of eve; where all night Earth,
Orbed in her dreams of star-related life,
Floats in a flood of moonlight and of dew.
Once more I see it all, and, seeing, know
The infinite of beauty—how thy world
Is charactered with wisdom: each winged sense
Faints with the weight of wonder, till I walk
Like one enchanted to a magic sound,
A king whose eyes are feasted with a play
Of endless scenic change, a child to whom
Earth has no bounds for joy.

And yet, ah! yet,
Deeper than all, and deeper than my joy,
Thou whom I know, nor yet can ever see,
Thou, mother Isis, mother over all,
Thou radiant Life and one Reality,
Vanishest for ever: like the Northern beam
Decking the far-off mountains, all untouched,
Unheard, inviolable, Thou movest on
In the great silence of our hearts, through leaf
And bud and fairy bloom fleeting for aye
Wherever we are not. And though our spirits

136

Burst through their woven chambers till the heart
Ache for the stress of passion; though our dreams
Be girt about with one dull cloud of death.
For hope that cannot pierce; yea, though our eyes
For gazing vainly on thy vanishings
Waste away in their orbits; yet at last
We fall, our arms stretched outward on the earth
And features folded in the clay-cold ground,
Nor e'er behold thee face to face at all.

137

THE DAISY.

If the daisy shake her tresses
To the broad blue arch of sky,
As a child that dimly guesses
All the love in its mother's eye;

If she clasp each lily finger
At the falling of the night,
Lest the pure stars—an she linger—
Seem to shame her golden light;

If she dance with many a sister
In the hot shafts of the sun,
Swaying, swimming, in bright glister
Where a thousand are as one;

138

If she reach out arms to beckon
Diamond motes from dancing air:
What is that, that it should quicken
Pulses worn with toil and care?

If she wreathe the mountains round her,
Centred in the grassy earth,
Where the first sun-glances found her
Shaking dewy locks of mirth;

If the waters flow beside her,
Catching something from her smile,
Whether storm or sun betide her,
Loving to be near, the while;

What is that, that it should win us
To heart-yearnings still untold,
Year on year that grow within us,
Till the years themselves grow old?

139

THE TIDE.

Six hours it voiceless sank along the shore
In the soft cloud-girt eve; turned in its bed,
And dreamed of other lands. But when the night
Grew to its stillest, and none knew thereof,
There crept across the world a wind-like sigh—
Sweet breath of waking lips—that rose, and passed,
And died along the night, and rose again
Ineffable. And Ocean knew once more
Her crescent tide-mark with its golden range
Of fretted sands and shell-impearlèd weeds,
And once more, joyous, filled with rolling waves
Her creeks and inland waterways; then paused,
And, wondering at herself, sank back to rest,
And dreamed again the dream that has no end.

140

I. THE SPIRIT OF THE MOUNTAIN TORRENT.

I mock the moaning of the maddened sea
In fathomless gorges far withdrawn, and down
I drag the screaming crags resistlessly
From ledge to ledge through storm and rainbow crown.
I sing of vessels trapt in utter night,
That shiver down a roaring gulf of wind,
Before them sudden blackness, and behind
Waste hissing of the waves in foaming white.

I fold the feverish eyelids of the day
To court confusion of the crazy dark;
I shroud the sunbeam in my ceaseless spray
And drown the slender singing of the lark;

141

I race in the swift eagle's flight, and roll
The eager flashes of his yellow eye;
I rage beside the hurricane, and sigh
'Mid seas of silent snow about the pole.

I dance along the ruins of the world
Wrapt in my own impenetrable breath;
Stride I in fury on the storm-winds whirled
With war and famine, pestilence and death.
I sing along the desert in the sun,
I play amidst his rays and plume my wings;
I thunder in the columned dust that flings
The veil of death, nor man nor beast can shun.

Hear me, O hear! I cease not evermore:
Me the eternal Future changes not,
Ye bubbles broke upon a sounding shore,
Ye worms that creep into the earth and rot!
I only live: I dip and dart and skim,
And weave my flight through elemental spray;
Who battles me, ruthless I sweep away,—
Who yields, oblivion swiftly merges him.

142

II. THE SPIRIT OF MAN.

Sing on, thou shape of death, thy savage song,
I will defy thee, though the foam-waves roll,
I, in the shivering night, so lone, so long,
Waiting for thee—a naked human soul:
I will defy thee, though thy laws should give
Pause to my breath in act of utterance,
Though in each tortuous twist and trick of chance
My life be lapped, I will defy; and live.

I am of thee, World-torrent; and who braves
Thy strength shall share thy strength; so sweep away
This body, still athwart thy raging waves
My hands outreaching round thy soul I lay;

143

And hold thee fast for ever. As I cling
Painfully persevering, in my ears
The surging of the mighty water clears
To one sweet harmony; and, like a wing

Pulsing in distant skies, is borne the sound
Of that far chaunt whose charm no mortal man,
Hearing, forgets for ever; for around
The dreams of childhood when his life began,
His formless youthful fancies, and above
All after-cries and cravings still it rang
Imperiously insistent where it sang
The will of God, the wonder of His love.

144

SUMMER LIGHTNING.

Like a dawn the distant lightning,
Fitful, shadow-crowned,
O'er the twilit ocean brightening
Breaks without a sound.

Softly-fair the clouds are riven
Crimson faint with bliss,
As the heights and depths of heaven
Open to its kiss.

Calm in western lake-like splendour
Floats the star of eve;
All hues opaline and tender
Round about it weave;

145

And that other crystal ocean
Holds its image clear,
Like a smile with soft emotion
Shining through a tear.

Faintly rings a silver laughter
As the ripples die,
And the rising stars thereafter
Answer, and their cry,

As of love to passion risen,
Passes o'er the strand
From Night's gloomy eastern prison
To the golden land

Where flushed Eve with shining fingers
For an instant keeps
Back the curtained dark, and lingers,
Lovely, ere she sleeps.

So upon the beachy margent
Love a moment stands,
Takes the ocean and the argent
Starlight on the sands;

146

Takes the sunset slowly whitening
From its golden bloom,
Takes the cloud-girt summer lightning
And the distant gloom;

Orbs them all from world-mutation,
Whole and unforgot,
Into his divine creation
Of immortal thought;

Where, like essences supernal,
They nor pass nor range,
Lifted high in Love's eternal
O'er eternal change.

147

IN THE GRASS:

BY A MONAD (OF LEIBNITZ).

Here in the grass they laid me long ago,
Far from the tumult and the tears of men,
Soft in the summer grass, forlorn and low—
The face of all the world is changed since then.

Here, on my back, and scarce beneath the turf,
To lie and lie for many a summer day,
Hearing the faint far ocean-sweeping surf,
Seeing the blue midnoon and twilight grey.

Yea, though you seek and find me not at all
In these wide meadows and the shoreward plain,
Though in the ground and tangled grasses tall
No vestige of my mortal part remain.

148

Yet, peradventure, where you plant your heel
And heedless start the lizard on the sand,
I am, and all day watch wild duck and teal
Fly northward in a blue-enamelled band.

Here, void of will, of action unaware,
And dwindled to a mere perceptive point,
Changeless I watch the light divide the air
And glitter on each reedy knot and joint.

Changeless I watch the changes of the sky,
Its liquid blue, its motionless light clouds,—
A solitary seagull sailing by,
A butterfly that him from sight enshrouds.

Now midway-down a thin mist thunder-driven
Moves on the air-built battlements beyond;
Still is the land, until the heights of heaven
Burst and break backward, detonant with sound.

And on the earth fire and a flood are spilled,
The air is no more sultry, but the wind
Drives forward in the grass. The moor-fowl, chilled,
Huddle and crouch in hollows water-lined.

149

Then, all night long, grey spectres of the dark
Fly onward overhead in strange disguise,
With shriekings of the wind, and weird blue spark
Lighting their myriad white hail-like eyes.

But in the morning with a song the land
Resumes the primal harmony of dawn;
A lark, the latest of its tuneful band,
Into the heart of Paradise is drawn

To sing that sweet and slender hymn that I
Have heard so many ages ever new,
Never the same, yet, as the world goes by,
The same hymn steeped in sunlight and in dew.

And sometimes in the reeds a feathered thing
Will shyly peer about, as though it sought
Some old forgotten love of kindred wing
Amid the grass with last year's dead leaves fraught.

Sometimes a mouse will move, or spider thread
His amber beads betwixt the sky and me,
Sometimes a frozen swallow will fall dead,
Sometimes the southern winds will bring a bee.

150

Or sometimes in the later autumn days
A red-fanged rough retriever will come nigh,
Threading the scent all through that reedy maze,
And anxious, earnest, panting, pass me by.

But oftenest the world is very still;
A light breeze o'er the land will break and shiver
With musical low melancholy thrill
Among the grasses and the reeds for ever.

I ask no more. The liquid summer light
About this poplar, when its leaves are green,
The change, when glitteringly bare and white
Its branches on the wintry blue are seen.

All are but changes of delight to me,
In each I lose myself, and live, and die,
And rise upon the next with equal glee,
Like one who feasts for ever with his eye.

I ask no more. The slender drooping grace
Of stem and blade seen thus obliquely clear
Suffice me while the moments interlace
To minutes and the minutes to a year.

151

The centuries soon pass, and, while I live,
The world, which without me were but a dream,
Its changing image to my mind shall give,—
One image and one aspect of its scheme.

152

WIND AND CLOUD.

Gliding for ever by woodland and stream
O'er the far forest-gloom and shadow,
Spirit, or Motion—whate'er thou seem—
How do I know that thou dost not dream
By thyself in the moonlit meadow?

Sliding alone through the dim-lit grove,
Or held in the hair of the willow,
How do I know thou dost not love
The fleecy cloudlet floating above,
Asleep on thy breast as a pillow?

Cloudlet, fleeting beneath the moon,
So white from the Western Ocean,
Lovest thou not the whispered tune

153

That He, thy Companion, late and soon,
Murmurs with myriad emotion?

As, far below, o'er the tufted lawn
Dead leaves before him are driven;
While thou art wafted, from dusk to dawn,
In a veil of tender light withdrawn
Amid the stars of heaven.

154

SUMMER.

Dreaming all day, as of old, in the far-off heights of the sky,
The summer floats orbed in gold, while the hours speed silently by;
The clouds are clad as in dreams, and the air is girt with a sleep,
And the sound of its swaying seems like the wistful sigh of the deep.

The forests stand dark in the sun, and the meadows are bright between,
All gathered and melted in one, like a veil of luminous sheen,

155

And rolled, as a wonderful weft, o'er the purple shoulder of Earth,
Or a bridal vesture left from moments of music and mirth.

So all is still in the vale, all silent aloft on the wold;
The trees have forgotten their tale, the mystical murmur of old;
All sound of music is done in sky and meadow and glade,
And the whole wood sleeps in the sun, where the sunlight sleeps in the shade.

The drowsy tips of the leaves are dipped in the heat, as a flood,
And their idle dalliance weaves strange magic of sleep in the blood;
Through the tall grass spreadeth the spell and the hours are charmed to rest—
O the spirit of Spring is well, but the silence of Summer is best.

156

THE WORLD-SPIRIT.

Like soundless summer lightning seen afar,
A halo o'er the grave of all mankind,
O undefinèd dream-embosomed star,
O charm of human love and sorrow twined:

Far, far away beyond the world's bright streams,
Over the ruined spaces of the lands,
Thy beauty, floating slowly, ever seems
To shine most glorious; then from out our hands

To fade and vanish, evermore to be
Our sorrow, our sweet longing sadly borne,
Our incommunicable mystery
Shrined in the soul's long night before the morn.

157

Ah! in the far fled days, how fair the sun
Fell sloping o'er the green flax by the Nile,
Kissed the slow water's breast, and glancing shone
Where laboured men and maidens, with a smile

Cheating the laggard hours; o'er them the doves
Sailed high in evening blue; the river-wheel
Sang, and was still; and lamps of many loves
Were lit in hearts, long dead to woe or weal.

And, where a shady headland cleaves the light
That like a silver swan floats o'er the deep
Dark purple-stained Ægean, oft the height
Felt from of old some poet-soul upleap,

As in the womb a child before its birth,
Foreboding higher life. Of old, as now,
Smiling the calm sea slept, and woke with mirth
To kiss the strand, and slept again below.

So, from of old, o'er Athens' god-crowned steep
Or round the shattered bases of great Rome,
Fleeting and passing, as in dreamful sleep,
The shadow-peopled ages go and come:

158

Sounds of a far-awakened multitude,
With cry of countless voices intertwined,
Harsh strife and stormy roar of battle rude,
Labour and peaceful arts and growth of mind.

And yet, o'er all, the One through many seen,
The phantom Presence moving without fail,
Sweet sense of closelinked life and passion keen
As of the grass waving before the gale.

What art Thou, O that wast and art to be?
Ye forms that once through shady forest-glade
Or golden light-flood wandered lovingly,
What are ye? Nay, though all the past do fade,

Ye are not therefore perished, ye whom erst
The eternal Spirit struck with quick desire,
And led and beckoned onward till the first
Slow spark of life became a flaming fire.

Ye are not therefore perished: for behold
To-day ye move about us, and the same
Dark murmur of the past is forward rolled
Another age, and grows with louder fame

159

Unto the morrow: newer ways are ours,
New thoughts, new fancies, and we deem our lives
New-fashioned in a mould of vaster powers;
But as of old with flesh the spirit strives,

And we but head the strife. Soon shall the song
That rolls all down the ages blend its voice
With our weak utterance and make us strong;
That we, borne forward still, may still rejoice,

Fronting the wave of change. Thou who alone
Changeless remainest, O most mighty Soul,
Hear us before we vanish! O make known
Thyself in us, us in thy living whole.

160

A MEMORY.

TO---.

Fair friend, of the sweet hours that are no more,
Canst thou not charm from chambers of the Past
Those happy days of old, the summer wore
Like roses in her emerald zone set fast?
The dawn returns o'er ocean-meadows blue,
And still the moon in ancient splendour glows;
Alas, the mortal mind no magic knows
To render back the joys that once it knew.

Ah me! that day we sat, two souls in one,
Couched in a rocky vale, the summer hours,
And heard in trance the murmurous waters run,
And saw the sunbeam sleep amid the flowers.

161

A mighty boulder, cloven from the steep,
Cast on the meadow-green its silent shade,
Where we our pleasant rest together made
Till day dipped downwards on the fields of sleep.

From noon till eve the mountain shadows wheeled
And slid from slope to slope and cleft the air,
The hollow vale with laughing light was filled,
Like sunny wine that brims a flagon fair.
The barren crags gleamed moist with heavenly dew,
Forthstreaming from a thousand rills of snow
And dripping dark through mountain halls below
Or leaping with the cataract into view.

The clouds rode overhead, as in a dream,
Piled high in shifting splendour grandly calm,
Until, by magic moved, on us did seem
To fall delicious sleep, like some sweet balm
That steeps the soul in memories divine;
And Fancy, soaring high on wings of Love,
Held revel in the heaven of hope above,
Where dawned the daystar of my life and thine.

162

So were the happy hours that were; but now
Only sad echoes of sweet voices heard—
Visions that flit along the rugged brow
Of that broad-featured past: like some swift bird
That touching slowly stirs a sleeping flood,
And while its broad face brightens into smiles
Is past already westward many miles,
To where the red sun sinks in fire and blood.

So pass the years, and ever in the past
Old Nature smiles at us frail houseless things;
And if in love or in derision vast
Men scarcely know; alone thy memory brings
To me a hope that cannot fail: a calm
That spreads where else despair: for in thy soul
I see the mould of Nature's mirrored whole—
One love, like thine, to shield mankind from harm.

163

A HAWKWEED.

Now midnoon through the woodland's leafy screen
Scarce throws a random ray; the quiet gloom,
Spaced out in beauty and sweet sense of room
By beechen stems and slender tufts of green,
Floats like transparent incense summer-warm
Upon a deep moss floor. The fitful boom
Of swift impatient bee breaks not the charm,—
Yet lacking full completion, till an arm
Of sunlight, pointing, lingers to illume
A starlike weed, which poised in golden grace
Breaks into light—the genius of the place.

164

BY THE MOUTH OF THE ARNO.

Here, where the crawling river seaward sets,
And riverward the sea, about a land
Laid under heaven in lonely flats of sand
Saltblackened, where the sluggish water frets
Its margin till marsh-deltas interlace
In reedy desolation; on each hand
The long gray grasses shiver in their grace
Through sun and shadow, till salt winds deface
Their wasted beauty: here—by such a strand—
Pale Shelley passed, and so his course did keep
To sail Death's unexplored and open deep.

165

SONG OF LOVE.

Arise! the morning breaks; afar
The white Dawn spreads her wings o'er darkened seas,
And, robed in pearly light, upon the breeze
Rides like a silver star:
Through rosy clouds and emerald fields of sky
Her gleaming forehead forward set
And feet with foam of eastern oceans wet
Hasten their flight on high;
And from her scarcely parted lips
Softly o'er rock and woodland slips
Love's fragrance in a sigh.

Arise! about the ivy stirs the gale
In gentle whispers to the summer morn,
And to the bridal of the light is borne
Earth's sweetest incense. Thee we hail

166

O gracious Dawn, delight of all our days,
And to thy praise
Our voices rise to thee o'er hill and dale.

This day is given to Love: the rose to-day.
Blushes a brighter hue: the lark on high
Carols a fuller music, to allay
A fuller ecstasy;
The sky is clothed in light from cloud to cloud,
The whole Earth sparkles in the sun,
And till the pleasant day is done
All Nature sings aloud.

Arise, my love; all Nature sings to thee:
Thine is her beauty, thine her breadth of light,
And thine the calm of evening, and of night
The nameless mystery.
Her song is of thy grace for evermore;
It fills and overflows my ears,
Hushing the harsh reverberating years
With all unlovely lore
To an enchanted tide of melody
That rises still and falls within my heart,
Till I too know myself a part
Of thy Tranquillity.

167

Arise! step outwards from the shade:
To greet thy waking eyes were all things made,
And, seeing thee, all forms that pass and fade
Shall quicken into life and know
That from eternity they flow
In thy smile unafraid.

Arise, my love; O we are one, are one;
Fold, closer fold thine arms about my life,
That I may find in thee through worlds of strife
A calm distraught of none.
Within my heart thou movest on for aye,
A voice, a harmony divine:
Where Nature holds her hidden inmost sway,
Mixing thy soul with mine,
I see thee boundless as the boundless deep,
A pure soul flowing freely unto right,
And dowered so with Nature's changeless might
Thy star-lit course to keep.

Arise, O loved one; with this only kiss
I seal all future years to be
Ours by most holy memory
Of this, of this.

168

Together love shall crown us from the skies,
Together lead us through the glad sunrise,
Together fold us when the daylight dies
In equal bliss.

This day and all days flowing hence shall be
Love's and love's only: He shall sing
New life to us from everything—
From cloud and tree,
From cliff and mountain and the dreaming sea,
From wind and waterfall,
From Earth's glad sounds, and all
Her glorious interchange of harmony;
From the year's gathered store of joy and woe,
From all the future linked to all the past,
And, where our lot is cast,
From voices bright and forms that round us flow
Swifter and swifter to the last;
Until as to the verge we run
His very self through all shall shine
Athwart the mists of earth, divine,
And blend our souls in one.

169

A PORTRAIT.

I scarcely ever learnt to know her face,
For still, whene'er I gazed, my thoughts would fly
Backward through fields of memory, in chase
Of some faint flying gleam, some kindred grace
Caught from a clearer sky.

And yet I learnt to love the smile that fled
From her sweet lips to nestle in her eye,
I loved the clustered hair about her head,
The thick dark masses which were wont to shed
A darker mystery.

I loved the marvel of her quiet days,
Her free fair confidence of happy thought:
As one who ever went about her ways
Not careless, not o'er-careful of men's praise,
Nor envious of aught;

170

O great was she in woman's faith, and strong,
And she was clothed about with woman's love,
Her life was but a part of one sweet song
Which ever in low cadence moved along,
And ever so shall move.

So, as I gazed, my fetters fell to ground;
One moment like a bird uncaged I stood;
Then, soaring through th' immeasurable round,
My spirit scanned the starry depths and found
In her its only good.

171

LOVE'S SPRING.

My days fled ever in mechanic round,
Enclosed within itself my spirit slept,
Till Thou didst dash my dreams; then from the ground,
Dark, cold, and dank with night, I leapt,

And saw the circling mountain-banners blaze
In that new-risen glory; saw the plains
Roll forth from cloud to catch the slanting rays
That glittered in fresh-fallen rains.

So, like an ocean moon-led of high Love,
My life swept outward from its rock-bound shore,
Nor knew of any joy except to move
Calm in thy smile for evermore;

172

And as a bird, wooed by the charm of Spring,
Unfolds its tender music to the air,
Since Thou charm'st me to life, I can but sing
For very joy that thou art there.

173

SONG.

[Fare thee well, my only fairest]

Fare thee well, my only fairest,
Far from sadness fare thy way;
Though with thee my heart thou bearest,
Fairest, fare thee well for aye.

Thee no thought of grief embarrass,
Faithlessness of friend or foe,
Love consume, nor hatred harass,
Wheresoe'er on earth thou go.

Me alone thou leavest stricken,
Done to death this weary day;
So until the new life quicken,
Fairest, fare thee well for aye.

174

SONG.

[Love, one summer day]

Love, one summer day,
Sitting on a spray,
High in the liquid air did frame his note;
All the woods were still,
Shepherds on the hill
Stayed when they heard the echoes fall and float.

And the voice of Love
So the earth did move
That the broad swelling hills did clasp and kiss;
And the tender sky,
Quivering on high,
Stooped as to listen to that song of his.

And the singer sang
Till his music rang

175

Loud, louder yet, that fading land around;
And did softly steep
All the world in sleep,
Till heaven itself grew faint with fragrant sound.

176

SONG.

[Through, through and through]

Through, through and through,
Shuttle and thread
Fly, till the silver woof
And warp are wed.

Through, through and through,
Stars on their way
Weave, till their golden flight
Fades with the day.

Through, through and through,
Mortal steps run,
Kiss, interlace, and cross,
Under the sun.

177

As the web's wove
Apart they fly:
Memory alone and love,
Love cannot die.

178

AS ROUND A LIGHTHOUSE.

TO ---.

As round a lighthouse swept of sea and air
The waves plunge many fathom deep, and flow
Unresting o'er the rocky base below,
And glimmer shifting in the fitful glare;
So great unrest about thy heart doth go,
So deep a flood of turbulent despair.

Stand true, O tender heart and strong, stand true:
For I, who steer alone across the deep,
By thee, unknown of thee, my course must keep
O'er the foam-crested fields for ever new;
And thou, alone, unknowing, on the steep,
Must watch the waves with ruin all bestrew.

179

Not overnear to thee my course may run;
Yet pray I, somewhere on the bitter tide
Thy beam the shuddering night for me divide,
And show the heart-red splendour of thy sun
Reorient with delight upon the wide
Waters of gloomy death when life is done.

180

SLEEP, SWEETLY SLEEP.

Sleep, sweetly sleep, while I watch over thee,
O well-beloved, beneath the falling night;
Be hushed, O winds, through glade and grove and tree,
Weave silence into sweetest melody
While I watch with delight.

Sleep, sweetly sleep; and let thy softest breath
All trustfully steal forth unto the stars,
And give mine ear assurance glad that saith,—
No evil end that is akin to Death
This peaceful vision mars.

No, thou shalt wake; and though I know full well
The years shall dart between in weary dance,

181

Yet more I know—what none can clearly tell—
That though the strident bolts and bars of Hell
Work utmost severance,

I still to thee from age to age shall grow,
Thy name with new delight for ever twined,
Till in the distant rift that none yet know
Thy life athwart my life may inly flow,
And we be one in mind.

So Hope, that still is king when all else dies,
And Love, from whose large glory Hope is born,
Fix fast the happy star within my eyes
That shall not fade away until there rise
An universal morn.

Then sweetly sleep! Earth, hold thy treasure fast;
Sing, planets, marshalled round in glorious state;
A whisper steals to me across the vast
To which I gladly bow my head at last:
I am content to wait.

182

TO L. C.

Ah! when I think of thee, and how my life
Is set apart from thine that is so pure,
So much to be desired, on my soul's strife
There comes a calm; for then I am most sure
God is, in whom our sundered days draw nigh,
—Else were't not good to live or gain to die.

183

THE COMPLAINT OF JOB.

[_]

CHAP. III.

O perish the day I was born, and the night when my mother conceived;
Let that day be darkness, let God regard it no more from on high;
Let fear fright it back to the gloom, and let it no more be reprieved
From the shadowy challenge of death and clouds that about it lie.

O let it no more rejoice with the light-footed days of the year,
Let the pale moon know it no more, let it not be reckoned as one;

184

O curse it all ye that curse the day! let that night be dear
To them that pray to the Dragon that preys on the light of the Sun.

Let the stars of the twilight thereof be dark; let it long for the day,
And know it not, nor behold the fragrant eyelids of morn,
Since it shut not the doors of the womb when my mother in travail lay,
Nor hid mine eyes from the dawning light of sorrow and scorn.

Why died I not from the womb, nor gave life back to the deep?
O why was I nursed on the knee, and suckled so well at the breast?
For now should I long have lain in quiet and folded in sleep,
And gathered of old to the great assembly of them that rest:

185

With judges and kings of earth in their pyramid-sepulchres lone,
With mighty princes that stuffed their tombs with treasures of worth;
So had I not been; so had I sweet peace and nothingness known,
As infants that never saw light, as a hidden untimely birth.

Ah! there do the wicked cease from troubling, the weary rest;
The prisoners rest together, they hear not the tyrant's word.
Both small and great are there, the oppressor with the opprest;
But the small man hath not fear, the servant is free from his lord.

O wherefore is sweet life given to a soul in bitterness clad?
And wherefore light unto him whom sorrow and darkness hold?

186

Who waiteth for death all day, and seeing the grave is glad;
But finds it not though he dig for it more than hid treasures of gold.

O wherefore light unto him whose way is wasted with gloom,
Whom God hath girt with a hedge, that he cannot or see or think?
O wherefore light unto me, or meat for my life, to whom
Sighing comes sooner than bread and weeping quicker than drink?

For even all things that I feared have alighted on me from the air:
I have nought of rest, or peace or quiet, but trouble is there.

187

A LIFE.

The Child sprang into life, and smote
At his first breath with bitter note
Against the bounds of self; and saw
The myriad world, informing awe,
So stern and solid-seeming roll
With anguish on his ignorant soul,
He feared and shrank. But, as a boy,
He leapt, with some quick sense of joy
And boisterous rude bravery,
His right of heaven-born liberty
And kingship o'er the world to prove;
And won. Him, thus self-centred, Love
Kissed on the lips, and lightly drew
As in a dream his whole soul through;

190

And left him nevermore the same,
But, smiting with his mighty flame,
Showed all creation, lower and higher,
Transparent with that inward fire.

And so on him, the man, there stole
The gracious mystery of the soul:
First formless, then with sudden force,
The vision of the universe
Unbodied, insubstantial, grown,
And on the fading image thrown,
A magic light, that came and went,
And now, where'er his looks were bent,
Leapt blinding with bright visions, now
Waxed dim and died, he knew not how.

But when the man was old, he said:
O mighty Father, who hast led
My feeble life with kindly hand
Through all this visionary land,—
Teacher and Guardian of my lot
Still most when most I knew it not,—
Now that, once more a little child,
I to thy Will am reconciled,

191

Nor e'er again of grief or fear
Can dream, since I behold thee near;—
Father, I pray thee, take once more
The soul that erst thy Sorrow bore
In pains of Love; and let me fall
Backward, with gladness at Thy call,
Unto thy Being's depth. Behold,
E'en now thine infinite arms enfold
And I escape not; for the air
Breathes with thy breath amid my hair;
The myriad links of force, that draw
My sinews with the central law,
Are still but thine; Thou from the sky
Drawest ever nigher and more nigh,
And down the avenues of sense
Glidest with ceaseless influence.
Nay, though the sense itself grow dead,
The fountain fails not at the head,
And in its secret source I feel
Thy spirit o'er my spirit steal
For ever closer, with the kiss
Of undiminished life and bliss.
Yea now I weary, let me rest
Calm in the haven of thy breast;

192

The world grows distant in mine ears;
Father, to thee my soul's star nears;
And Thou that gav'st me utterance since birth,
Take back my failing frame, O ancient mother Earth.

193

THE SNOWDROP.

Like a flame o'er earth and ocean
Broke the free tumultuous day,
Waking into glad commotion
Every budding spear and spray.

‘Spring is here, winter is over,’
Sang the lark, and soared on high;
‘Earth shall purple be with clover
Soon, beneath a summer sky.’

Then a snowdrop, pale with pleading,
Passionate with intense light,
Sprang where Spring's sweet feet were treading,
Like a herald angel white.

194

Quoth the lark: ‘All heaven is ringing,
For the cruel frost is gone;
Snowdrop, when the birds are singing,
Why art thou so pale and wan?

‘Upward to the triumph splendid
Shouldst thou lift a laughing face,
But thy tear-crowned head is bended
To the ground in lowly grace.’

And the snowdrop answered: ‘Given,
I had wings of thine to soar
From the fields of earth to heaven,
I would dream of grief no more;

‘But, alas! my frame is slender,
At best shapen for a sigh;
If I should behold this splendour
I have prayed for, I should die;

‘For my feet are closely holden
In the darkness of my grave,
And though visions of the golden
Summer round my spirit wave,

195

‘Yet I know that I shall perish
Ere those happy days arise,
And the visions that I cherish
Shall be shown to other eyes.

‘Be it so. And since for others
All my fancies are fulfilled,
I am glad; for we are brothers.
I will live as God has willed.

‘And I feel that somewhere for me
Joy fulfils itself on high;
But I look not on this glory
I have prayed for, lest I die.’

196

ON A CRUCIFIX

IN THE CHURCH OF ST. JOHN LATERAN, ROME.

Still, still they crucify thee, O great Christ.
They took thee from thy cross on Calvary,
And nailed thee in a splendid place unpriced
Of malachite and gold and porphyry.
They counted all the wounds thy body bore,
They measured all the hours of misery,
On spear and reed and sponge they set great store:
Still, still they crucify thee, gentle Christ.

They used thy name, because thou wast so meek,
To be the watchword of all godless pride;
Because thou wast so gracious to the weak,
They held thy flaming cross up far and wide,

197

A curse and terror in the common street
To poor and ignorant and world-untried,
And then they came and crouched and kissed thy feet,
With folded hands and lips slavish and sleek.

Still, still they crucify thee, who didst say
Suffer the little ones to come to me,
Whose heart with love beguiled the beaten way,
And made all men behold thee joyfully;
For now they wave away the vulgar crowd,
No simple child of man may come nigh thee:
With obscure rites and incantations loud
They crucify thy love fresh every day.

Once, where the churches offer stones for bread,
And in their Holy Place call darkness light,
Thy sun-like truth-revealing presence shed
Shame on each false and Pharisaic rite;
Till, as thy lustre more intensely shone,
They took thee from thy chosen lowly site,
And set thee for their own especial sun,
And called thee by the name of Church's Head.

198

And now, when in an aisle loud trumpets bray,
And facing thee the priests go to and fro,
And, distanced off, the kneeling people pray
And breathe thy name in trembling accents low:
High o'er the incense and the altar cloud,
Afar, and folded in thine own great woe,
Alone, thy head in deep dejection bowed,
Great Christ, they crucify thee every day.

Thy face is turned aside from all that scene,
Thine eyes are weary of their age-long gaze,
Thy frame is worn, thy shrunken limbs grow lean,
Thou seem'st to tremble at the song of praise;
For here, and in thy name, the evil word,
The ban, the curse, and damning pious phrase,
Century after century were heard,
Christ, as if thou their Counsellor hadst been.

So long? These twice ten hundred years, O Christ?
Hath no one yet come near to lift thee down?
Hath no one yet thy holy spirit priced
Above the three nails and the thorny crown?

199

Thy seamless robe the Roman soldiers took,
But these have woven thee another gown
Of all thy bitter shame and sharp rebuke
Wherein to crucify thee still, great Christ.

Slowly the days run on, the time is long,
The kneeling generations come and go,
Thy word is to them as an empty gong,
They look upon thee, but they do not know.
Thine arms, wide-spread for all the world's embrace,
Are empty evermore of friend or foe,
Still, still set stiff and rigid in their place,
And straightened back from love with rivets strong.

Ah, surely in the seeming endless years
Some momentary glance hath gladdened thee,
Some smile of recognition reached through tears
Hath shed light on thy later Calvary.
Yet is thy love more like a thing untold,
To stay and suffer still so patiently,
By suffering to overcome the cold
Heart of estrangement of thy loved compeers.

200

And now, the end, what is it? For each day
The magic ceremonious circle, drawn
Betwixt thee and the people, doth betray
Less room for love and more for serge and lawn;
The world grows weary seeking thee in vain,
And leaves thee to the priests, who self-withdrawn
In secret pride find popular disdain
And pitiful desertion and dismay.

The Papal pride has triumphed: it has set
Itself for thee. The world has turned away.
The Papal pride has fallen. Wilt thou yet
Remain to lead us in this later day?
Or will thy name, as something that is not,
Pass from the ears of men unlearned to pray,
Thy centuries of suffering forgot,
Thy love to men for evermore unmet?

Ah! greater is thy love than this, great Christ.
Thou givest, but thou askest not again;
And though our wayward worship be enticed
To other shrines, thy spirit shall remain,

201

Unknown, to breathe upon us purer life,
Refine us with the flame of earthly pain,
Until, our hearts with thine no more at strife,
We learn how not to crucify thee, Christ.

202

THE GREAT PEEPSHOW.

I

Walk up! walk up! This way to see the world!
Scant time allowed, must make the best of it:
Seventy years or so: your hair'll be curled
Before that, though, with two or three sights fit
To set your eyes wide open—if you've wit,
That is to say, to win in the great strife
For bare existence 'gainst each brother chit—
To keep one eye upon the slide of life,
As 'twere an instant, ere death hood you with his coif.

II

Walk up! walk up! Well, you're a stranger now;
But that won't last. It's excellent rare fun
Up here; but as we've much to see, allow
Me to begin at once. Now, there's the Sun.

203

Where you come from I doubt that there was one
Or aught to match it; 'tis too far to touch,
But has its use, natheless, which is to run
From end to end of heaven, and give rays such
As may suffice to warm and light our earthly hutch.

III

It shines by day and is obscured at night—
A capital arrangement, such as I
Should have suggested if the Infinite
Had asked my counsel. If you ask me why,
'Tis clear 'twould not have suited men to lie
Abed with sun full-orbed at midnight blaze
And work their days by gaslight. We descry
Throughout these things the providential ways,
And are prepared in all to render them due praise.

IV

Walk up! walk up! There's plenty more to see
By this said sun's rays—simple and sublime.
The world's a show which is, you'll all agree,
The greatest ever advertised in rhyme,—

204

We've had the management of it some time
And can explain it fully;—and to-day
'Tis not too much to say 'tis in its prime;
Admission free—that is, if you obey
Our fatherly direction, there is nought to pay.

V

Move with the rest, and do not stop to gaze
Too long or closely. All is very good:
So the Creator said—in some amaze
At his own skill. Besides, in any mood,
Doubting or not, 'tis deemed a little rude
To look a gift-horse in the mouth. Move on:
And thank your planets—as indeed you should—
That you have got such good advice to con,
For which the world were worthy visiting, alone.

VI

Your eyes are caught at first by empty shows—
Bright colours, smiling faces, forms of grace.
To chase gold butterflies by green hedgerows,
To play regardless both of time and space

205

In unrestricted freedom, and to race
Propriety and prudence out of breath,
Seem pleasant and surprisingly in place
In this fair world where, as the preacher saith,
What profits he that works in that he laboureth?

VII

But look around you, and you'll soon perceive
Your judgment is at fault, and, once for all,
'Tis best surrender freedom and not grieve,
But bend your neck demurely to the thrall—
Remembering the weak must take the wall.
And get by rote, if not by heart, the themes
Which age and ancient custom learning call,
And leave enthusiastic youthful dreams,
To labour for what is and not for that which seems.

VIII

Such labour profits. Since it pleased the Lord
To shut us out of Paradise, the sweat
Of each man's brow alone secures reward
(His or another's); and we need not fret.

206

The bargain's just, for if we do not get
Interest, we get profits, which are more.
Life's interest is Nature's secret, set
In untrod plains, and if all pleasant lore
Is there, Knowledge and Life,—an Eden-land whereo'er

IX

The sun of freedom shines—still, here is gold,
Which, after all, surpasses any sun:
For without light were nothing to behold,
But without this is nothing to be done.
Therefore seek first for gold, and therefore shun
Unthrifty habits or excessive vice:
Honesty's best policy in the long run,
Dishonour ruins credit in a trice,
And virtue, being its own reward, thus pays you twice.

X

Yet all with moderation. We, who came
Into the world and learned our lesson flush
Ere you were thought of, have the prior clain
In law as well as profits. Do not push!

207

As if gold were the very flaming bush.
Order! If there's not room, why, some must wait;
First comers first: 'tis just. And I'll not blush
To say I've tarried yearlong for a great
Opening which now the due rotation brings—though late.

XI

Nay, do not push. Ah! Vengeance on you all!
'Tis lost. What greediness!—a vulgar crowd
Pressing and trampling forward—I shall fall.
Help! hear me! Here is hard cash: I'm not proud.
In vain. All lost. Before my eyes a cloud
Hides the great show, the scene becomes obscure.
I could have wished that chance had been allowed;
But no, the risk of limb outweighted the lure,—
And, taking all in all, the show's a little poor.

XII

Adieu. See how they fight! So has it been
Since the beginning, as if unaware
The panorama's but a shifting scene,
And all its wonders only empty air.

208

Hear me, my friends. Believe me that I bear
No grudge against you, but would have you know,
For your own good, the lust of gold's a snare.
The world's no shop, but only a peepshow:
What's seen or handled you surrender when you go.

XIII

Carry him out! more room! come up behind!
One peephole vacant! now the show's at height.
Strange, that our predecessors—though not blind—
Ne'er fully saw or understood the sight,
Withal so anxious to display their light
For our illumination! But away:
Our time for all such questioning is quite
Too limited. Enough, while yet 'tis day,
To use the precious hours. Let night come when it may.

209

THE CARPENTER AND THE KING.

A Carpenter upon a day
Did call upon a King;
The King exclaimed: ‘The Queen's away,
Can I do anything?’

‘You can,’ the Carpenter replied,
‘I want a bit of bread.’
‘Why?’ cried the King; the fellow sighed:
‘I'm hungry, sire,’ he said.

‘Dear me! I'll call my Chancellor,
He understands such things;
Your claims I cannot cancel, or
Deem them fit themes for kings.

210

‘Sir Chancellor, why here's a wretch
Starving—like rats or mice!’
The Chancellor replied: ‘I'll fetch
The Steward in a trice.’

The Steward came, and by his look
You might have guessed he'd shirk;
Said he: ‘Your Majesty's mistook,
This is the Butler's work.’

The Butler said the case was bad,
But quite beyond his power,
Seeing it was the Baker had
The keys of cake and flour.

The Baker called,—‘The keys I've lost,’
He wept; ‘but in a span
I'll call the Carp— why, Holy Ghost!
Here is the very man.’

‘Hurrah! hurrah!’ they loudly cried,
‘How cleverly we've done it!
We've solved this question deep and wide
Well nigh ere we'd begun it.’

211

‘Thanks!’ said the Carpenter; ‘meanwhile
Go moulder on the shelf:
The next time I am starving I'll
Take leave to help myself.’

212

A PROPHECY.

With lifted head and high prophetic mouth
Half-opened, in the days of nations' drouth
She gave her voice to heaven; and all the land
Stood round expectant, as the people stand
To hear a Sibyl speak of peace or war.
So in those summer days did she declare
Rain upon Earth; and as the people prayed
Long, loudly and prophetically brayed.

216

ONLY A SMILE.

Only a smile, from one of a crowd,
Because the world was rainy and loud,
And the wind ran gustily down the street
With buffeting dance of boisterous feet;
Only a smile, but passing sweet,
For the world was rainy and loud.

Only a smile, not anything more,
For further response the rude wind bore
High out of our reach. Yet unto us straight
The strong world stooped, as a slave, in its state,
At the token of that which is passing great,
A smile, not anything more.

217

THE FELLOWSHIP OF SUFFERING.

O weary child of man, O mortal friend,
Afar, unseen, by road or river bend,
By mountain, plain, or city, still the same,
Human, unfriended, with the piercing flame
Of endless sorrow in thine aching heart:
Hear me, for unto thee my spirit yearns;
Touch me, behold me, where the twilight turns,
Uplifting white arms to the tireless morn:
Hear me, for in thy torment I am torn;
Hear me, for in thy passion I have part.

O child, O child, how sadly sang the world
Its old old song of keen cold carelessness,
How blindly blew the wind of loneliness
About thy soul in frozen garments furled;

220

How with pale speechless lips and wan didst pace
Crushing beneath thy days that deadly feud;
How to the bitter wall didst turn thy face,
Glad from the glances of the multitude.

Ah! here or there; the same sad song of woe,
More desolate than world-despair or death,
The cry of souls the cruel sun severeth,
The moan of love to madness smitten low.
Ah, here or there; the same sad end of things,
The same fond fruitless ineffectual life,
High-feathered hope and passionate pulse of wings,
Chill sorrow, failure, and despairing strife.

Behold! beyond the mountains of the West,
Where sparkle white domes of the purple hills,
The light of evening Earth's broad bosom fills
And like a golden dove broods o'er her breast,
And fades, afar—for you and me, afar,—
Shared token of our common deep desire,
Which fadeth not, but like a beacon-star
Devours the darkness of our hearts with fire.

221

THE DIVINE SORROW.

To-morrow, when the sun is sunken,
And the seawave ebbs afar,
If thy heart be cold and shrunken
And thy hope too like a star

That glitters faintly, glitters coldly,
In the farthest fields of space,
While the night airs, blowing boldly,
Bring their cloudy train apace;

If the seeming sad insistance
Of the years oppress thy soul,
As from distance unto distance,
Past and future, still they roll;

222

And thy forward glances eager
Aid not, nor the backward cast,
Seeing all is mute and meagre—
And the future as the past;

If in all this fate betide thee
That no voice hath called thee ‘friend,’
Nature bitterly belied thee
From the wretched end to end;

Even so grieve not, for only
So shalt thou divine the deep
And the height; find for the lonely
Love, and tears for them that weep.

223

THE DIVINE LOVE.

Child, the hours that breathe around thee
Know thee most divinely fair;
In its love the last enwound thee,
And the next shall take thy hair

Backward from thy forehead's whiteness
While upon thy lips it fold
Kisses, love-endued with lightness
Lest thou guess what none have told.

Though thou seest not nor knowest,
Love about thee, day by day,
Dwells and, whereso'er thou goest,
Walks beside thee all the way;

224

Tenderly his glances greet thee,
And his words about thee weave;
Even the winds and waters meet thee
Always, only, by love's leave.

Yea, though none can shape or show it,
Though no mortal logic prove,
Love himself doth surely know it:
Thou shalt, when thou knowest Love.

225

THE ANGEL OF DEATH—AND LIFE.

I call thee in all hours of life and death:
Friend, whom the days hide and the months and years
Darken before my face: I call and cry
Still, as of old time, ere the morning star
Mounts in the moonlit heavens; and still, ere dawn
Visits the vale of sleep, I call to thee.
Friend, like a stranger loved and known before,
Or brother long forgot, with intricate
World-written countenance, obscure to read,
Yet flashing ancient meanings: thou, for whom,
Morning and night, with ever-new desire,
I, waiting, watch without the gates of Time,
If haply at length thy vagrant feet efface
The way of our estrangement: yea, O thou,

226

Who in that way's delay decipherest
These words of my great need, I call to Thee.
O wilt thou hear me: know that night by night
I dwell beside thee, and before the dawn
Touch thy loved forehead with my lips, and fill
With joy each hour of waking. Evernear
I gaze upon thee as thou goest forth
To each day's due encounter; step by step,
And hour by hour, each stroke of all thy work
Wears out the world to more transparency
Between us. Even now the flinty way,
Flaming beneath thy feet, is grown like glass;
My glance is on thee from the well-turned field,
The mill, the net, the loom, and woven stuff,
From desk and counter and rock-quarried gold,
Waste seas and stormbeat headlands, and from all
The faces of thine enemies in the fight—
Strike home: the stroke is fair for me and thee.
Nay, from these words I spring to meet thy soul,
Which else were lonely in the world of men;
O take them as the token of a love
Within, without thee, Lord and minister,

227

Unknown, of all thy actions, until death
Reveal it, visual, thine, the perfect life.

Yea, now I call to Love that is in thee,
And cry, as one that sees her shadow pass
And the lamp flash, waiting without the house
For his fair one at the window: O come forth,
That I may see thee as thou art, and hear
Thy hidden thought, and hold thy very self
In presence undisturbed. Thou art descried:
Thy light is beauty and can not be hid;
But, through the tangle of frail purposes
That fringe the lattice windows of thy life,
Shines to perpetual promise. Fear thou not.
Ay, though I come clad grimly as for war,
In brazen heat or scaly northern cold,
By rock or river, famine, hatred, fire;
Though I assail thee at the cannon's mouth,
Or drag thee down to listless years of pain,
Arise thou, and with forehead unabashed
Come forth, and so confront me. In that day,
Thine eyes, beholding mine, within their depths
Shall see, resurgent from the past, all forms
Of long-lost joy and lovely memory,

228

All faces and fair smiles of time, set forth
And forward in the future; all else fled.
O stand and conquer so: for see, I touch
Thee through this outer world, in the hot Sun
I slay thee with my lips, all day to thee
I whisper in the Light, and to myself
Desirous draw thee in the Lightning flash,
Arrayed in death. Arise and vanquish me:
Grasp firm my tangled hair, brandish thy sword,
Breathe heavily thy hot breath in my ears,
And I will yield; and thou shalt know that Love
Stands ever by thy side though Life and Death,
Signing allegiance of a thousand hearts
That still are One.

O hear my voice once more.
I am with thee. Rise up, thy duty calls;
Pass down into the world; I am with thee.