 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
337
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES
THE WISTFUL LADY
“Love, while you were away there came to me—
From whence I cannot tell—
A plaintive lady pale and passionless,
Who laid her eyes upon me critically,
And weighed me with a wearing wistfulness,
As if she knew me well.”
From whence I cannot tell—
A plaintive lady pale and passionless,
Who laid her eyes upon me critically,
And weighed me with a wearing wistfulness,
As if she knew me well.”
“I saw no lady of that wistful sort
As I came riding home.
Perhaps she was some dame the Fates constrain
By memories sadder than she can support,
Or by unhappy vacancy of brain,
To leave her roof and roam?”
As I came riding home.
Perhaps she was some dame the Fates constrain
By memories sadder than she can support,
Or by unhappy vacancy of brain,
To leave her roof and roam?”
“Ah, but she knew me. And before this time
I have seen her, lending ear
To my light outdoor words, and pondering each,
Her frail white finger swayed in pantomime,
As if she fain would close with me in speech,
And yet would not come near.
I have seen her, lending ear
To my light outdoor words, and pondering each,
Her frail white finger swayed in pantomime,
As if she fain would close with me in speech,
And yet would not come near.
“And once I saw her beckoning with her hand
As I came into sight
At an upper window. And I at last went out;
But when I reached where she had seemed to stand,
And wandered up and down and searched about,
I found she had vanished quite.”
As I came into sight
At an upper window. And I at last went out;
But when I reached where she had seemed to stand,
And wandered up and down and searched about,
I found she had vanished quite.”
338
Then thought I how my dead Love used to say,
With a small smile, when she
Was waning wan, that she would hover round
And show herself after her passing day
To any newer Love I might have found,
But show her not to me.
With a small smile, when she
Was waning wan, that she would hover round
And show herself after her passing day
To any newer Love I might have found,
But show her not to me.
THE WOMAN IN THE RYE
“Why do you stand in the dripping rye,
Cold-lipped, unconscious, wet to the knee,
When there are firesides near?” said I.
“I told him I wished him dead,” said she.
Cold-lipped, unconscious, wet to the knee,
When there are firesides near?” said I.
“I told him I wished him dead,” said she.
“Yea, cried it in my haste to one
Whom I had loved, whom I well loved still;
And die he did. And I hate the sun,
And stand here lonely, aching, chill;
Whom I had loved, whom I well loved still;
And die he did. And I hate the sun,
And stand here lonely, aching, chill;
“Stand waiting, waiting under skies
That blow reproach, the while I see
The rooks sheer off to where he lies
Wrapt in a peace withheld from me!”
That blow reproach, the while I see
The rooks sheer off to where he lies
Wrapt in a peace withheld from me!”
THE CHEVAL-GLASS
Why do you harbour that great cheval-glass
Filling up your narrow room?
You never preen or plume
Or look in a week at your full-length figure—
Picture of bachelor gloom!
Filling up your narrow room?
You never preen or plume
Or look in a week at your full-length figure—
Picture of bachelor gloom!
“Well, when I dwelt in ancient England,
Renting the valley farm,
Thoughtless of all heart-harm,
I used to gaze at the parson's daughter,
A creature of nameless charm.
Renting the valley farm,
Thoughtless of all heart-harm,
I used to gaze at the parson's daughter,
A creature of nameless charm.
“Thither there came a lover and won her
Carried her off from my view.
O it was then I knew
Misery of a cast undreamt of—
More than, indeed, my due!
Carried her off from my view.
339
Misery of a cast undreamt of—
More than, indeed, my due!
“Then far rumours of her ill-usage
Came, like a chilling breath
When a man languisheth;
Followed by news that her mind lost balance,
And, in a space, of her death.
Came, like a chilling breath
When a man languisheth;
Followed by news that her mind lost balance,
And, in a space, of her death.
“Soon sank her father; and next was the auction—
Everything to be sold:
Mid things new and old
Stood this glass in her former chamber,
Long in her use, I was told.
Everything to be sold:
Mid things new and old
Stood this glass in her former chamber,
Long in her use, I was told.
“Well, I awaited the sale and bought it. . . .
There by my bed it stands,
And as the dawn expands
Often I see her pale-faced form there
Brushing her hair's bright bands.
There by my bed it stands,
And as the dawn expands
Often I see her pale-faced form there
Brushing her hair's bright bands.
“There, too, at pallid midnight moments
Quick she will come to my call,
Smile from the frame withal
Ponderingly, as she used to regard me
Passing her father's wall.
Quick she will come to my call,
Smile from the frame withal
Ponderingly, as she used to regard me
Passing her father's wall.
“So that it was for its revelations
I brought it oversea,
And drag it about with me. . . .
Anon I shall break it and bury its fragments
Where my grave is to be.”
I brought it oversea,
And drag it about with me. . . .
Anon I shall break it and bury its fragments
Where my grave is to be.”
THE RE-ENACTMENT
Between the folding sea-downs,
In the gloom
Of a wailful wintry nightfall,
When the boom
Of the ocean, like a hammering in a hollow tomb,
In the gloom
Of a wailful wintry nightfall,
When the boom
Of the ocean, like a hammering in a hollow tomb,
340
Throbbed up the copse-clothed valley
From the shore
To the chamber where I darkled,
Sunk and sore
With gray ponderings why my Loved one had not come before
From the shore
To the chamber where I darkled,
Sunk and sore
With gray ponderings why my Loved one had not come before
To salute me in the dwelling
That of late
I had hired to waste a while in—
Dim of date,
Quaint, and remote—wherein I now expectant sate;
That of late
I had hired to waste a while in—
Dim of date,
Quaint, and remote—wherein I now expectant sate;
On the solitude, unsignalled,
Broke a man
Who, in air as if at home there,
Seemed to scan
Every fire-flecked nook of the apartment span by span,
Broke a man
Who, in air as if at home there,
Seemed to scan
Every fire-flecked nook of the apartment span by span,
A stranger's and no lover's
Eyes were these,
Eyes of a man who measures
What he sees
But vaguely, as if wrapt in filmy phantasies.
Eyes were these,
Eyes of a man who measures
What he sees
But vaguely, as if wrapt in filmy phantasies.
Yea, his bearing was so absent
As he stood,
It bespoke a chord so plaintive
In his mood,
That soon I judged he would not wrong my quietude.
As he stood,
It bespoke a chord so plaintive
In his mood,
That soon I judged he would not wrong my quietude.
“Ah—the supper is just ready!”
Then he said,
“And the years'-long-binned Madeira
Flashes red!”
(There was no wine, no food, no supper-table spread.)
Then he said,
“And the years'-long-binned Madeira
Flashes red!”
(There was no wine, no food, no supper-table spread.)
“You will forgive my coming,
Lady fair?
I see you as at that time
Rising there,
The self-same curious querying in your eyes and air.
Lady fair?
I see you as at that time
Rising there,
The self-same curious querying in your eyes and air.
341
“Yet no. How so? You wear not
The same gown,
Your locks show woful difference,
Are not brown:
What, is it not as when I hither came from town?
The same gown,
Your locks show woful difference,
Are not brown:
What, is it not as when I hither came from town?
“And the place. . . . But you seem other—
Can it be?
What's this that Time is doing
Unto me?
You dwell here, unknown woman? . . . Whereabouts, then, is she?
Can it be?
What's this that Time is doing
Unto me?
You dwell here, unknown woman? . . . Whereabouts, then, is she?
“And the house-things are much shifted.—
Put them where
They stood on this night's fellow;
Shift her chair:
Here was the couch: and the piano should be there.”
Put them where
They stood on this night's fellow;
Shift her chair:
Here was the couch: and the piano should be there.”
I indulged him, verily nerve-strained
Being alone,
And I moved the things as bidden,
One by one,
And feigned to push the old piano where he had shown.
Being alone,
And I moved the things as bidden,
One by one,
And feigned to push the old piano where he had shown.
“Aha—now I can see her!
Stand aside:
Don't thrust her from the table
Where, meek-eyed,
She makes attempt with matron-manners to preside.
Stand aside:
Don't thrust her from the table
Where, meek-eyed,
She makes attempt with matron-manners to preside.
“She serves me: now she rises,
Goes to play. . . .
But you obstruct her, fill her
With dismay,
And all-embarrassed, scared, she vanishes away!”
Goes to play. . . .
But you obstruct her, fill her
With dismay,
And all-embarrassed, scared, she vanishes away!”
And, as 'twere useless longer
To persist,
He sighed, and sought the entry
Ere I wist,
And retreated, disappearing soundless in the mist.
To persist,
He sighed, and sought the entry
Ere I wist,
And retreated, disappearing soundless in the mist.
342
That here some mighty passion
Once had burned,
Which still the walls enghosted,
I discerned,
And that by its strong spell mine might be overturned.
Once had burned,
Which still the walls enghosted,
I discerned,
And that by its strong spell mine might be overturned.
I sat depressed; till, later,
My Love came;
But something in the chamber
Dimmed our flame,—
An emanation, making our due words fall tame.
My Love came;
But something in the chamber
Dimmed our flame,—
An emanation, making our due words fall tame.
As if the intenser drama
Shown me there
Of what the walls had witnessed
Filled the air,
And left no room for later passion anywhere.
Shown me there
Of what the walls had witnessed
Filled the air,
And left no room for later passion anywhere.
So came it that our fervours
Did quite fail
Of future consummation—
Being made quail
By the weird witchery of the parlour's hidden tale,
Did quite fail
Of future consummation—
Being made quail
By the weird witchery of the parlour's hidden tale,
Which I, as years passed, faintly
Learnt to trace,—
One of sad love, born full-winged
In that place
Where the predestined sorrowers first stood face to face.
Learnt to trace,—
One of sad love, born full-winged
In that place
Where the predestined sorrowers first stood face to face.
And as that month of winter
Circles round,
And the evening of the date-day
Grows embrowned,
I am conscious of those presences, and sit spellbound.
Circles round,
And the evening of the date-day
Grows embrowned,
I am conscious of those presences, and sit spellbound.
There, often—lone, forsaken—
Queries breed
Within me; whether a phantom
Had my heed
On that strange night, or was it some wrecked heart indeed?
Queries breed
Within me; whether a phantom
Had my heed
On that strange night, or was it some wrecked heart indeed?
343
HER SECRET
That love's dull smart distressed my heart
He shrewdly learnt to see,
But that I was in love with a dead man
Never suspected he.
He shrewdly learnt to see,
But that I was in love with a dead man
Never suspected he.
He searched for the trace of a pictured face,
He watched each missive come,
And a sheet that seemed like a love-line
Wrought his look lurid and numb.
He watched each missive come,
And a sheet that seemed like a love-line
Wrought his look lurid and numb.
He dogged my feet to the city street,
He followed me to the sea,
But not to the nigh, still churchyard
Did he dream of following me!
He followed me to the sea,
But not to the nigh, still churchyard
Did he dream of following me!
“SHE CHARGED ME”
She charged me with having said this and that
To another woman long years before,
In the very parlour where we sat,—
To another woman long years before,
In the very parlour where we sat,—
Sat on a night when the endless pour
Of rain on the roof and the road below
Bent the spring of the spirit more and more. . .
Of rain on the roof and the road below
Bent the spring of the spirit more and more. . .
—So charged she me; and the Cupid's bow
Of her mouth was hard, and her eyes, and her face,
And her white forefinger lifted slow.
Of her mouth was hard, and her eyes, and her face,
And her white forefinger lifted slow.
Had she done it gently, or shown a trace
That not too curiously would she view
A folly flown ere her reign had place,
That not too curiously would she view
A folly flown ere her reign had place,
A kiss might have closed it. But I knew
From the fall of each word, and the pause between,
That the curtain would drop upon us two
Ere long, in our play of slave and queen.
From the fall of each word, and the pause between,
That the curtain would drop upon us two
Ere long, in our play of slave and queen.
344
THE NEWCOMER'S WIFE
He paused on the sill of a door ajar
That screened a lively liquor-bar,
For the name had reached him through the door
Of her he had married the week before.
That screened a lively liquor-bar,
For the name had reached him through the door
Of her he had married the week before.
“We called her the Hack of the Parade;
But she was discreet in the games she played;
If slightly worn, she's pretty yet,
And gossips, after all, forget:
But she was discreet in the games she played;
If slightly worn, she's pretty yet,
And gossips, after all, forget:
“And he knows nothing of her past;
I am glad the girl's in luck at last;
Such ones, though stale to native eyes,
Newcomers snatch at as a prize.”
I am glad the girl's in luck at last;
Such ones, though stale to native eyes,
Newcomers snatch at as a prize.”
“Yes, being a stranger he sees her blent
Of all that's fresh and innocent,
Nor dreams how many a love-campaign
She had enjoyed before his reign!”
Of all that's fresh and innocent,
Nor dreams how many a love-campaign
She had enjoyed before his reign!”
That night there was the splash of a fall
Over the slimy harbour-wall:
They searched, and at the deepest place
Found him with crabs upon his face.
Over the slimy harbour-wall:
They searched, and at the deepest place
Found him with crabs upon his face.
A CONVERSATION AT DAWN
He lay awake, with a harassed air,
And she, in her cloud of loose lank hair,
Seemed trouble-tried
As the dawn drew in on their faces there.
And she, in her cloud of loose lank hair,
Seemed trouble-tried
As the dawn drew in on their faces there.
The chamber looked far over the sea
From a white hotel on a white-stoned quay,
And stepping a stride
He parted the window-drapery.
From a white hotel on a white-stoned quay,
And stepping a stride
He parted the window-drapery.
345
Above the level horizon spread
The sunrise, firing them foot to head
From its smouldering lair,
And painting their pillows with dyes of red.
The sunrise, firing them foot to head
From its smouldering lair,
And painting their pillows with dyes of red.
“What strange disquiets have stirred you, dear,
This dragging night, with starts in fear
Of me, as it were,
Or of something evil hovering near?”
This dragging night, with starts in fear
Of me, as it were,
Or of something evil hovering near?”
“My husband, can I have fear of you?
What should one fear from a man whom few,
Or none, had matched
In that late long spell of delays undue!”
What should one fear from a man whom few,
Or none, had matched
In that late long spell of delays undue!”
He watched her eyes in the heaving sun:
“Then what has kept, O reticent one,
Those lids unlatched—
Anything promised I've not yet done?”
“Then what has kept, O reticent one,
Those lids unlatched—
Anything promised I've not yet done?”
“O it's not a broken promise of yours
(For what quite lightly your lip assures
The due time brings)
That has troubled my sleep, and no waking cures!” . . .
(For what quite lightly your lip assures
The due time brings)
That has troubled my sleep, and no waking cures!” . . .
“I have shaped my will; 'tis at hand,” said he;
“I subscribe it to-day, that no risk there be
In the hap of things
Of my leaving you menaced by poverty.”
“I subscribe it to-day, that no risk there be
In the hap of things
Of my leaving you menaced by poverty.”
“That a boon provision I'm safe to get,
Signed, sealed by my lord as it were a debt,
I cannot doubt,
Or ever this peering sun be set.”
Signed, sealed by my lord as it were a debt,
I cannot doubt,
Or ever this peering sun be set.”
“But you flung my arms away from your side,
And faced the wall. No month-old bride
Ere the tour be out
In an air so loth can be justified?
And faced the wall. No month-old bride
Ere the tour be out
In an air so loth can be justified?
“Ah—had you a male friend once loved well,
Upon whose suit disaster fell
And frustrance swift?
Honest you are, and may care to tell.”
Upon whose suit disaster fell
And frustrance swift?
Honest you are, and may care to tell.”
346
She lay impassive, and nothing broke
The stillness other than, stroke by stroke,
The lazy lift
Of the tide below them; till she spoke:
The stillness other than, stroke by stroke,
The lazy lift
Of the tide below them; till she spoke:
“I once had a friend—a Love, if you will—
Whose wife forsook him, and sank until
She was made a thrall
In a prison-cell for a deed of ill. . . .
Whose wife forsook him, and sank until
She was made a thrall
In a prison-cell for a deed of ill. . . .
“He remained alone; and we met—to love,
But barring legitimate joy thereof
Stood a doorless wall,
Though we prized each other all else above.
But barring legitimate joy thereof
Stood a doorless wall,
Though we prized each other all else above.
“And this was why, though I'd touched my prime,
I put off suitors from time to time—
Yourself with the rest—
Till friends, who approved you, called it crime,
I put off suitors from time to time—
Yourself with the rest—
Till friends, who approved you, called it crime,
“And when misgivings weighed on me
In my lover's absence, hurriedly,
And much distrest,
I took you. . . . Ah, that such could be!. . .
In my lover's absence, hurriedly,
And much distrest,
I took you. . . . Ah, that such could be!. . .
“Now, saw you when crossing from yonder shore
At yesternoon, that the packet bore
On a white-wreathed bier
A coffined body towards the fore?
At yesternoon, that the packet bore
On a white-wreathed bier
A coffined body towards the fore?
“Well, while you stood at the other end,
The loungers talked, and I couldn't but lend
A listening ear,
For they named the dead. 'Twas the wife of my friend.
The loungers talked, and I couldn't but lend
A listening ear,
For they named the dead. 'Twas the wife of my friend.
“He was there, but did not note me, veiled,
Yet I saw that a joy, as of one unjailed,
Now shone in his gaze;
He knew not his hope of me just had failed!
Yet I saw that a joy, as of one unjailed,
Now shone in his gaze;
He knew not his hope of me just had failed!
“They had brought her home: she was born in this isle;
And he will return to his domicile,
And pass his days
Alone, and not as he dreamt erstwhile!”
And he will return to his domicile,
And pass his days
Alone, and not as he dreamt erstwhile!”
347
“—So you've lost a sprucer spouse than I!”
She held her peace, as if fain deny
She would indeed
For his pleasure's sake, but could lip no lie.
She held her peace, as if fain deny
She would indeed
For his pleasure's sake, but could lip no lie.
“One far less formal and plain and slow!”
She let the laconic assertion go
As if of need
She held the conviction that it was so.
She let the laconic assertion go
As if of need
She held the conviction that it was so.
“Regard me as his he always should,
He had said, and wed me he vowed he would
In his prime or sere
Most verily do, if ever he could;
He had said, and wed me he vowed he would
In his prime or sere
Most verily do, if ever he could;
“And this fulfilment is now his aim,
For a letter, addressed in my maiden name,
Has dogged me here,
Reminding me faithfully of his claim;
For a letter, addressed in my maiden name,
Has dogged me here,
Reminding me faithfully of his claim;
“And it started a hope like a lightning-streak
That I might go to him—say for a week—
And afford you right
To put me away, and your vows unspeak.
That I might go to him—say for a week—
And afford you right
To put me away, and your vows unspeak.
“To be sure you have said, as of dim intent,
That marriage is a plain event
Of black and white,
Without any ghost of sentiment,
That marriage is a plain event
Of black and white,
Without any ghost of sentiment,
“And my heart has quailed.—But deny it true
That you will never this lock undo!
No God intends
To thwart the yearning He's father to!”
That you will never this lock undo!
No God intends
To thwart the yearning He's father to!”
The husband hemmed, then blandly bowed
In the light of the angry morning cloud.
“So my idyll ends,
And a drama opens!” he mused aloud;
In the light of the angry morning cloud.
“So my idyll ends,
And a drama opens!” he mused aloud;
And his features froze. “You may take it as true
That I will never this lock undo
For so depraved
A passion as that which kindles you!”
That I will never this lock undo
For so depraved
A passion as that which kindles you!”
348
Said she: “I am sorry you see it so;
I had hoped you might have let me go,
And thus been saved
The pain of learning there's more to know.”
I had hoped you might have let me go,
And thus been saved
The pain of learning there's more to know.”
“More? What may that be? Gad, I think
You have told me enough to make me blink!
Yet if more remain
Then own it to me. I will not shrink!”
You have told me enough to make me blink!
Yet if more remain
Then own it to me. I will not shrink!”
“Well, it is this. As we could not see
That a legal marriage would ever be,
To end our pain
We united ourselves informally;
That a legal marriage would ever be,
To end our pain
We united ourselves informally;
“And vowed at a chancel-altar nigh,
With book and ring, a lifelong tie;
A contract vain
To the world, but real to Him on High.”
With book and ring, a lifelong tie;
A contract vain
To the world, but real to Him on High.”
“And you became as his wife?”—“I did.”—
He stood as stiff as a caryatid,
And said, “Indeed! . . .
No matter. You're mine, whatever you've hid!”
He stood as stiff as a caryatid,
And said, “Indeed! . . .
No matter. You're mine, whatever you've hid!”
“But is it right! When I only gave
My hand to you in a sweat to save,
Through desperate need
(As I thought), my fame, for I was not brave!”
My hand to you in a sweat to save,
Through desperate need
(As I thought), my fame, for I was not brave!”
“To save your fame? Your meaning is dim,
For nobody knew of your altar-whim?”
“I mean—I feared
There might be fruit of my tie with him;
For nobody knew of your altar-whim?”
“I mean—I feared
There might be fruit of my tie with him;
“And to cloak it by marriage I'm not the first,
Though, maybe, morally most accurst
Through your unpeered
And strict uprightness. That's the worst!
Though, maybe, morally most accurst
Through your unpeered
And strict uprightness. That's the worst!
“While yesterday his worn contours
Convinced me that love like his endures,
And that my troth-plight
Had been his, in fact, and not truly yours.”
Convinced me that love like his endures,
And that my troth-plight
Had been his, in fact, and not truly yours.”
349
“So, my lady, you raise the veil by degrees. . . .
I own this last is enough to freeze
The warmest wight!
Now hear the other side, if you please:
I own this last is enough to freeze
The warmest wight!
Now hear the other side, if you please:
“I did say once, though without intent.
That marriage is a plain event
Of black and white,
Whatever may be its sentiment:
That marriage is a plain event
Of black and white,
Whatever may be its sentiment:
“I'll act accordingly, none the less
That you soiled the contract in time of stress,
Thereto induced
By the feared results of your wantonness.
That you soiled the contract in time of stress,
Thereto induced
By the feared results of your wantonness.
“But the thing is over, and no one knows,
And it's nought to the future what you disclose.
That you'll be loosed
For such an episode, don't suppose!
And it's nought to the future what you disclose.
That you'll be loosed
For such an episode, don't suppose!
“No: I'll not free you. And if it appear
There was too good ground for your first fear
From your amorous tricks,
I'll father the child. Yes, by God, my dear!
There was too good ground for your first fear
From your amorous tricks,
I'll father the child. Yes, by God, my dear!
“Even should you fly to his arms, I'll damn
Opinion, and fetch you; treat as sham
Your mutinous kicks,
And whip you home. That's the sort I am!”
Opinion, and fetch you; treat as sham
Your mutinous kicks,
And whip you home. That's the sort I am!”
She whitened. “Enough. . . . Since you disapprove
I'll yield in silence, and never move
Till my last pulse ticks
A footstep from the domestic groove.”
I'll yield in silence, and never move
Till my last pulse ticks
A footstep from the domestic groove.”
“Then swear it,” he said, “and your king uncrown.”
He drew her forth in her long white gown,
And she knelt and swore.
“Good. Now you may go and again lie down.
He drew her forth in her long white gown,
And she knelt and swore.
“Good. Now you may go and again lie down.
“Since you've played these pranks and given no sign,
You shall crave this man of yours; pine and pine
With sighings sore,
'Till I've starved your love for him; nailed you mine!
You shall crave this man of yours; pine and pine
With sighings sore,
'Till I've starved your love for him; nailed you mine!
350
“I'm a practical man, and want no tears;
You've made a fool of me, it appears;
That you don't again
Is a lesson I'll teach you in future years.”
You've made a fool of me, it appears;
That you don't again
Is a lesson I'll teach you in future years.”
She answered not, lying listlessly
With her dark dry eyes on the coppery sea,
That now and then
Flung its lazy flounce at the neighbouring quay.
With her dark dry eyes on the coppery sea,
That now and then
Flung its lazy flounce at the neighbouring quay.
1910.
A KING'S SOLILOQUY
ON THE NIGHT OF HIS FUNERAL
From the slow march and muffled drum,
And crowds distrest,
And book and bell, at length I have come
To my full rest.
And crowds distrest,
And book and bell, at length I have come
To my full rest.
A ten years' rule beneath the sun
Is wound up here,
And what I have done, what left undone,
Figures out clear.
Is wound up here,
And what I have done, what left undone,
Figures out clear.
Yet in the estimate of such
It grieves me more
That I by some was loved so much
Than that I bore,
It grieves me more
That I by some was loved so much
Than that I bore,
From others, judgment of that hue
Which over-hope
Breeds from a theoretic view
Of regal scope.
Which over-hope
Breeds from a theoretic view
Of regal scope.
For kingly opportunities
Right many have sighed;
How best to bear its devilries
Those learn who have tried!
Right many have sighed;
How best to bear its devilries
Those learn who have tried!
I have eaten the fat and drunk the sweet,
Lived the life out
From the first greeting glad drum-beat
To the last shout.
Lived the life out
351
To the last shout.
What pleasure earth affords to kings
I have enjoyed
Through its long vivid pulse-stirrings
Even till it cloyed.
I have enjoyed
Through its long vivid pulse-stirrings
Even till it cloyed.
What days of drudgery, nights of stress
Can cark a throne,
Even one maintained in peacefulness,
I too have known.
Can cark a throne,
Even one maintained in peacefulness,
I too have known.
And so, I think, could I step back
To life again,
I should prefer the average track
Of average men,
To life again,
I should prefer the average track
Of average men,
Since, as with them, what kingship would
It cannot do,
Nor to first thoughts however good
Hold itself true.
It cannot do,
Nor to first thoughts however good
Hold itself true.
Something binds hard the royal hand,
As all that be,
And it is That has shaped, has planned
My acts and me.
As all that be,
And it is That has shaped, has planned
My acts and me.
May 1910.
THE CORONATION
At Westminster, hid from the light of day,
Many who once had shone as monarchs lay.
Many who once had shone as monarchs lay.
Edward the Pious, and two Edwards more,
The second Richard, Henrys three or four;
The second Richard, Henrys three or four;
That is to say, those who were called the Third,
Fifth, Seventh, and Eighth (the much self-widowered);
Fifth, Seventh, and Eighth (the much self-widowered);
And James the Scot, and near him Charles the Second,
And, too, the second George could there be reckoned.
And, too, the second George could there be reckoned.
352
Of women, Mary and Queen Elizabeth,
And Anne, all silent in a musing death;
And Anne, all silent in a musing death;
And William's Mary, and Mary, Queen of Scots,
And consort-queens whose names oblivion blots;
And consort-queens whose names oblivion blots;
And several more whose chronicle one sees
Adorning ancient royal pedigrees.
Adorning ancient royal pedigrees.
—Now, as they drowsed on, freed form Life's old thrall,
And heedless, save of things exceptional,
And heedless, save of things exceptional,
Said one: “What means this throbbing thudding sound
That reaches to us here from overground;
That reaches to us here from overground;
“A sound of chisels, augers, planes, and saws,
Infringing all ecclesiastic laws?
Infringing all ecclesiastic laws?
“And these tons-weight of timber on us pressed,
Unfelt here since we entered into rest?
Unfelt here since we entered into rest?
“Surely, at least to us, being corpses royal,
A meet repose is owing by the loyal?”
A meet repose is owing by the loyal?”
“—Perhaps a scaffold!” Mary Stuart sighed,
“If such still be. It was that way I died.”
“If such still be. It was that way I died.”
“—Ods! Far more like,” said he the many-wived,
“That for a wedding 'tis this work's contrived.
“That for a wedding 'tis this work's contrived.
“Ha-ha! I never would bow down to Rimmon,
But I had a rare time with those six women!”
But I had a rare time with those six women!”
“Not all at once?” gasped he who loved confession.
“Nay, nay!” said Hal. “That would have been transgression.”
“Nay, nay!” said Hal. “That would have been transgression.”
“—They build a catafalque here, black and tall,
Perhaps,” mused Richard, “for some funeral?”
Perhaps,” mused Richard, “for some funeral?”
And Anne chimed in: “Ah, yes: it may be so!”
“Nay!” squeaked Eliza. “Little you seem to know—
“Nay!” squeaked Eliza. “Little you seem to know—
“Clearly 'tis for some crowning here in state,
As they crowned us at our long bygone date;
As they crowned us at our long bygone date;
“Though we'd no such a power of carpentry,
But let the ancient architecture be;
But let the ancient architecture be;
353
“If I were up there where the parsons sit,
In one of my gold robes, I'd see to it!”
In one of my gold robes, I'd see to it!”
“But you are not,” Charles chuckled. “You are here,
And never will know the sun again, my dear!”
And never will know the sun again, my dear!”
“Yea,” whispered those whom no one had addressed;
“With slow, sad march, amid a folk distressed,
We were brought here, to take our dusty rest.
“With slow, sad march, amid a folk distressed,
We were brought here, to take our dusty rest.
“And here, alas, in darkness laid below,
We'll wait and listen, and endure the show. . . .
Clamour dogs kingship; afterwards not so!”
We'll wait and listen, and endure the show. . . .
Clamour dogs kingship; afterwards not so!”
1911.
AQUAE SULIS
The chimes called midnight, just at interlune,
And the daytime parle on the Roman investigations
Was shut to silence, save for the husky tune
The bubbling waters played near the excavations.
And the daytime parle on the Roman investigations
Was shut to silence, save for the husky tune
The bubbling waters played near the excavations.
And a warm air came up from underground,
And the flutter of a filmy shape unsepulchred,
That collected itself, and waited, and looked around:
Nothing was seen, but utterances could be heard:
And the flutter of a filmy shape unsepulchred,
That collected itself, and waited, and looked around:
Nothing was seen, but utterances could be heard:
Those of the Goddess whose shrine was beneath the pile
Of the God with the baldachined altar overhead:
“And what did you win by raising this nave and aisle
Close on the site of the temple I tenanted?
Of the God with the baldachined altar overhead:
“And what did you win by raising this nave and aisle
Close on the site of the temple I tenanted?
“The notes of your organ have thrilled down out of view
To the earth-clogged wrecks of my edifice many a year,
Though stately and shining once—ay, long ere you
Had set up crucifix and candle here.
To the earth-clogged wrecks of my edifice many a year,
Though stately and shining once—ay, long ere you
Had set up crucifix and candle here.
“Your priests have trampled the dust of mine without rueing,
Despising the joys of man whom I so much loved,
Though my springs boil on by your Gothic arcades and pewing,
And sculptures crude. . . . Would Jove they could be removed!”
Despising the joys of man whom I so much loved,
Though my springs boil on by your Gothic arcades and pewing,
And sculptures crude. . . . Would Jove they could be removed!”
“Repress, O lady proud, your traditional ires;
You know not by what a frail thread we equally hang;
It is said we are images both—twitched by people's desires;
And that I, as you, fail like a song men yesterday sang!”
You know not by what a frail thread we equally hang;
354
And that I, as you, fail like a song men yesterday sang!”
“What—a Jumping-jack you, and myself but a poor Jumping-jill,
Now worm-eaten, times agone twitched at Humanity's bid?
O I cannot endure it!—But, chance to us whatso there will,
Let us kiss and be friends! Come, agree you?”—None heard if he did. . . .
Now worm-eaten, times agone twitched at Humanity's bid?
O I cannot endure it!—But, chance to us whatso there will,
Let us kiss and be friends! Come, agree you?”—None heard if he did. . . .
And the olden dark hid the cavities late laid bare,
And all was suspended and soundless as before,
Except for a gossamery noise fading off in the air,
And the boiling voice of the waters' medicinal pour.
And all was suspended and soundless as before,
Except for a gossamery noise fading off in the air,
And the boiling voice of the waters' medicinal pour.
Bath.
SEVENTY-FOUR AND TWENTY
Here goes a man of seventy-four,
Who sees not what life means for him,
And here another in years a score
Who reads its very figure and trim.
Who sees not what life means for him,
And here another in years a score
Who reads its very figure and trim.
The one who shall walk to-day with me
Is not the youth who gazes far,
But the breezy sire who cannot see
What Earth's ingrained conditions are.
Is not the youth who gazes far,
But the breezy sire who cannot see
What Earth's ingrained conditions are.
THE ELOPEMENT
“A woman never agreed to it!” said my knowing friend to me.
“That one thing she'd refuse to do for Solomon's mines in fee:
No woman ever will make herself look older than she is.”
I did not answer; but I thought, “you err there, ancient Quiz.”
“That one thing she'd refuse to do for Solomon's mines in fee:
No woman ever will make herself look older than she is.”
I did not answer; but I thought, “you err there, ancient Quiz.”
It took a rare one, true, to do it; for she was surely rare—
As rare a soul at that sweet time of her life as she was fair,
And urging heart-heaves, too, were strong, for ours was a passionate case,
Yea, passionate enough to lead to freaking with that young face.
As rare a soul at that sweet time of her life as she was fair,
And urging heart-heaves, too, were strong, for ours was a passionate case,
Yea, passionate enough to lead to freaking with that young face.
355
I have told no one about it, should perhaps make few believe,
But I think it over now that life looms dull and years bereave,
How blank we stood at our bright wits' end, two blown barks in distress,
How self-regard in her was slain by her large tenderness.
But I think it over now that life looms dull and years bereave,
How blank we stood at our bright wits' end, two blown barks in distress,
How self-regard in her was slain by her large tenderness.
I said: “The only chance for us in a crisis of this kind
Is going it thorough!”—“Yes,” she calmly breathed. “Well, I don't mind.”
And we blanched her dark locks ruthlessly: set wrinkles on her brow;
Ay—she was a right rare woman then, whatever she may be now.
Is going it thorough!”—“Yes,” she calmly breathed. “Well, I don't mind.”
And we blanched her dark locks ruthlessly: set wrinkles on her brow;
Ay—she was a right rare woman then, whatever she may be now.
That night we heard a coach drive up, and questions asked below.
“A gent with an elderly wife, sir,” was returned from the bureau.
And the wheels went rattling on, and free at last from public ken
We washed all off in her chamber and restored her youth again.
“A gent with an elderly wife, sir,” was returned from the bureau.
And the wheels went rattling on, and free at last from public ken
We washed all off in her chamber and restored her youth again.
How many years ago it was! Some fifty can it be
Since that adventure held us, and she played old wife to me?
But in time convention won her, as it wins all women at last,
And now she is rich and respectable, and time has buried the past.
Since that adventure held us, and she played old wife to me?
But in time convention won her, as it wins all women at last,
And now she is rich and respectable, and time has buried the past.
“I ROSE UP AS MY CUSTOM IS”
I rose up as my custom is
On the eve of All-Souls' day,
And left my grave for an hour or so
To call on those I used to know
Before I passed away.
On the eve of All-Souls' day,
And left my grave for an hour or so
To call on those I used to know
Before I passed away.
I visited my former Love
As she lay by her husband's side;
I asked her if life pleased her, now
She was rid of a poet wrung in brow,
And crazed with the ills he eyed;
As she lay by her husband's side;
I asked her if life pleased her, now
She was rid of a poet wrung in brow,
And crazed with the ills he eyed;
Who used to drag her here and there
Wherever his fancies led,
And point out pale phantasmal things,
And talk of vain vague purposings
That she discredited.
Wherever his fancies led,
And point out pale phantasmal things,
356
That she discredited.
She was quite civil, and replied,
“Old comrade, is that you?
Well, on the whole, I like my life.—
I know I swore I'd be no wife,
But what was I to do?
“Old comrade, is that you?
Well, on the whole, I like my life.—
I know I swore I'd be no wife,
But what was I to do?
“You see, of all men for my sex
A poet is the worst;
Women are practical, and they
Crave the wherewith to pay their way,
And slake their social thirst.
A poet is the worst;
Women are practical, and they
Crave the wherewith to pay their way,
And slake their social thirst.
“You were a poet—quite the ideal
That we all love awhile:
But look at this man snoring here—
He's no romantic chanticleer,
Yet keeps me in good style.
That we all love awhile:
But look at this man snoring here—
He's no romantic chanticleer,
Yet keeps me in good style.
“He makes no quest into my thoughts,
But a poet wants to know
What one has felt from earliest days,
Why one thought not in other ways,
And one's Loves of long ago.”
But a poet wants to know
What one has felt from earliest days,
Why one thought not in other ways,
And one's Loves of long ago.”
Her words benumbed my fond faint ghost;
The nightmares neighed from their stalls,
The vampires screeched, the harpies flew,
And under the dim dawn I withdrew
To Death's inviolate halls.
The nightmares neighed from their stalls,
The vampires screeched, the harpies flew,
And under the dim dawn I withdrew
To Death's inviolate halls.
A WEEK
On Monday night I closed my door,
And thought you were not as heretofore,
And little cared if we met no more.
And thought you were not as heretofore,
And little cared if we met no more.
I seemed on Tuesday night to trace
Something beyond mere commonplace
In your ideas, and heart, and face.
Something beyond mere commonplace
In your ideas, and heart, and face.
357
On Wednesday I did not opine
Your life would ever be one with mine,
Though if it were we should well combine.
Your life would ever be one with mine,
Though if it were we should well combine.
On Thursday noon I liked you well,
And fondly felt that we must dwell
Not far apart, whatever befell.
And fondly felt that we must dwell
Not far apart, whatever befell.
On Friday it was with a thrill
In gazing towards your distant vill
I owned you were my dear one still.
In gazing towards your distant vill
I owned you were my dear one still.
I saw you wholly to my mind
On Saturday—even one who shrined
All that was best of womankind.
On Saturday—even one who shrined
All that was best of womankind.
As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea
On Sunday night I longed for thee,
Without whom life were waste to me!
On Sunday night I longed for thee,
Without whom life were waste to me!
HAD YOU WEPT
Had you wept; had you but neared me with a hazed uncertain ray,
Dewy as the face of the dawn, in your large and luminous eye,
Then would have come back all the joys the tidings had slain that day,
And a new beginning, a fresh fair heaven, have smoothed the things awry.
But you were less feebly human, and no passionate need for clinging
Possessed your soul to overthrow reserve when I came near;
Ay, though you suffer as much as I from storms the hours are bringing
Upon your heart and mine, I never see you shed a tear.
Dewy as the face of the dawn, in your large and luminous eye,
Then would have come back all the joys the tidings had slain that day,
And a new beginning, a fresh fair heaven, have smoothed the things awry.
But you were less feebly human, and no passionate need for clinging
Possessed your soul to overthrow reserve when I came near;
Ay, though you suffer as much as I from storms the hours are bringing
Upon your heart and mine, I never see you shed a tear.
The deep strong woman is weakest, the weak one is the strong;
The weapon of all weapons best for winning, you have not used;
Have you never been able, or would you not, through the evil times and long?
Has not the gift been given you, or such gift have you refused?
When I bade me not absolve you on that evening or the morrow,
Why did you not make war on me with those who weep like rain?
You felt too much, so gained no balm for all your torrid sorrow,
And hence our deep division, and our dark undying pain.
The weapon of all weapons best for winning, you have not used;
Have you never been able, or would you not, through the evil times and long?
Has not the gift been given you, or such gift have you refused?
358
Why did you not make war on me with those who weep like rain?
You felt too much, so gained no balm for all your torrid sorrow,
And hence our deep division, and our dark undying pain.
BEREFT, SHE THINKS SHE DREAMS
I dream that the dearest I ever knew
Has died and been entombed.
I am sure it's a dream that cannot be true,
But I am so overgloomed
By its persistence, that I would gladly
Have quick death take me,
Rather than longer think thus sadly;
So wake me, wake me!
Has died and been entombed.
I am sure it's a dream that cannot be true,
But I am so overgloomed
By its persistence, that I would gladly
Have quick death take me,
Rather than longer think thus sadly;
So wake me, wake me!
It has lasted days, but minute and hour
I expect to get aroused
And find him as usual in the bower
Where we so happily housed.
Yet stays this nightmare too appalling,
And like a web shakes me,
And piteously I keep on calling,
And no one wakes me!
I expect to get aroused
And find him as usual in the bower
Where we so happily housed.
Yet stays this nightmare too appalling,
And like a web shakes me,
And piteously I keep on calling,
And no one wakes me!
IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM
“What do you see in that time-touched stone,
When nothing is there
But ashen blankness, although you give it
A rigid stare?
When nothing is there
But ashen blankness, although you give it
A rigid stare?
“You look not quite as if you saw,
But as if you heard,
Parting your lips, and treading softly
As mouse or bird.
But as if you heard,
Parting your lips, and treading softly
As mouse or bird.
“It is only the base of a pillar, they'll tell you,
That came to us
From a far old hill men used to name
Areopagus.”
That came to us
359
Areopagus.”
—“I know no art, and I only view
A stone from a wall,
But I am thinking that stone has echoed
The voice of Paul;
A stone from a wall,
But I am thinking that stone has echoed
The voice of Paul;
“Paul as he stood and preached beside it
Facing the crowd,
A small gaunt figure with wasted features,
Calling out loud
Facing the crowd,
A small gaunt figure with wasted features,
Calling out loud
“Words that in all their intimate accents
Pattered upon
That marble front, and were wide reflected,
And then were gone.
Pattered upon
That marble front, and were wide reflected,
And then were gone.
“I'm a labouring man, and know but little,
Or nothing at all;
But I can't help thinking that stone once echoed
The voice of Paul.”
Or nothing at all;
But I can't help thinking that stone once echoed
The voice of Paul.”
IN THE SERVANTS' QUARTERS
“Man, you too, aren't you, one of these rough followers of the criminal?
All hanging hereabout to gather how he's going to bear
Examination in the hall.” She flung disdainful glances on
The shabby figure standing at the fire with others there,
Who warmed them by its flare.
All hanging hereabout to gather how he's going to bear
Examination in the hall.” She flung disdainful glances on
The shabby figure standing at the fire with others there,
Who warmed them by its flare.
“No indeed, my skipping maiden: I know nothing of the trial here,
Or criminal, if so he be.—I chanced to come this way,
And the fire shone out into the dawn, and morning airs are cold now;
I, too, was drawn in part by charms I see before me play,
That I see not every day.”
Or criminal, if so he be.—I chanced to come this way,
And the fire shone out into the dawn, and morning airs are cold now;
I, too, was drawn in part by charms I see before me play,
That I see not every day.”
360
“Ha, ha!” then laughed the constables who also stood to warm themselves,
The while another maiden scrutinized his features hard,
As the blaze threw into contrast every line and knot that wrinkled them,
Exclaiming, “Why, last night when he was brought in by the guard,
You were with him in the yard!”
The while another maiden scrutinized his features hard,
As the blaze threw into contrast every line and knot that wrinkled them,
Exclaiming, “Why, last night when he was brought in by the guard,
You were with him in the yard!”
“Nay, nay, you teasing wench, I say! You know you speak mistakenly.
Cannot a tired pedestrian who has legged it long and far
Here on his way from northern parts, engrossed in humble marketings,
Come in and rest awhile, although judicial doings are
Afoot by morning star?”
Cannot a tired pedestrian who has legged it long and far
Here on his way from northern parts, engrossed in humble marketings,
Come in and rest awhile, although judicial doings are
Afoot by morning star?”
“O, come, come!” laughed the constables. “Why, man, you speak the dialect
He uses in his answers; you can hear him up the stairs.
So own it. We sha'n't hurt ye. There he's speaking now! His syllables
Are those you sound yourself when you are talking unawares,
As this pretty girl declares.”
He uses in his answers; you can hear him up the stairs.
So own it. We sha'n't hurt ye. There he's speaking now! His syllables
Are those you sound yourself when you are talking unawares,
As this pretty girl declares.”
“And you shudder when his chain clinks!” she rejoined. “O yes, I noticed it.
And you winced, too, when those cuffs they gave him echoed to us here.
They'll soon be coming down, and you may then have to defend yourself
Unless you hold your tongue, or go away and keep you clear
When he's led to judgment near!”
And you winced, too, when those cuffs they gave him echoed to us here.
They'll soon be coming down, and you may then have to defend yourself
Unless you hold your tongue, or go away and keep you clear
When he's led to judgment near!”
“No! I'll be damned in hell if I know anything about the man!
No single thing about him more than everybody knows!
Must not I even warm my hands but I am charged with blasphemies?” . . .
—His face convulses as the morning cock that moment crows,
And he droops, and turns, and goes.
No single thing about him more than everybody knows!
Must not I even warm my hands but I am charged with blasphemies?” . . .
—His face convulses as the morning cock that moment crows,
And he droops, and turns, and goes.
361
THE OBLITERATE TOMB
“More than half my life long
Did they weigh me falsely, to my bitter wrong,
But they all have shrunk away into the silence
Like a lost song.
Did they weigh me falsely, to my bitter wrong,
But they all have shrunk away into the silence
Like a lost song.
“And the day has dawned and come
For forgiveness, when the past may hold it dumb
On the once reverberate words of hatred uttered
Half in delirium. . . .
For forgiveness, when the past may hold it dumb
On the once reverberate words of hatred uttered
Half in delirium. . . .
“With folded lips and hands
They lie and wait what next the Will commands,
And doubtless think, if think they can: ‘Let discord
Sink with Life's sands!’
They lie and wait what next the Will commands,
And doubtless think, if think they can: ‘Let discord
Sink with Life's sands!’
“By these late years their names,
Their virtues, their hereditary claims,
May be as near defacement at their grave-place
As are their fames.”
Their virtues, their hereditary claims,
May be as near defacement at their grave-place
As are their fames.”
—Such thoughts bechanced to seize
A traveller's mind—a man of memories—
As he set foot within the western city
Where had died these
A traveller's mind—a man of memories—
As he set foot within the western city
Where had died these
Who in their lifetime deemed
Him their chief enemy—one whose brain had schemed
To get their dingy greatness deeplier dingied
And disesteemed.
Him their chief enemy—one whose brain had schemed
To get their dingy greatness deeplier dingied
And disesteemed.
So, sojourning in their town,
He mused on them and on their once renown,
And said, “I'll seek their resting-place to-morrow
Ere I lie down,
He mused on them and on their once renown,
And said, “I'll seek their resting-place to-morrow
Ere I lie down,
“And end, lest I forget,
Those ires of many years that I regret,
Renew their names, that men may see some liegeness
Is left them yet.”
Those ires of many years that I regret,
Renew their names, that men may see some liegeness
Is left them yet.”
362
Duly next night he went
And sought the church he had known them to frequent,
And wandered, lantern-bearing, in the precincts,
Where they lay pent,
And sought the church he had known them to frequent,
And wandered, lantern-bearing, in the precincts,
Where they lay pent,
Till by remembrance led
He stood at length beside their slighted bed.
Above which, truly, scarce a line or letter
Could now be read.
He stood at length beside their slighted bed.
Above which, truly, scarce a line or letter
Could now be read.
“Thus years obliterate
Their graven worth, their chronicle, their date!
At once I'll garnish and revive the record
Of their past state,
Their graven worth, their chronicle, their date!
At once I'll garnish and revive the record
Of their past state,
“That still the sage may say
In pensive progress here where they decay,
‘This stone records a luminous line whose talents
Told in their day.’”
In pensive progress here where they decay,
‘This stone records a luminous line whose talents
Told in their day.’”
While dreaming thus he turned,
For a form shadowed where they lay inurned,
And he beheld a stranger in foreign vesture,
And tropic-burned.
For a form shadowed where they lay inurned,
And he beheld a stranger in foreign vesture,
And tropic-burned.
“Sir, I am right pleased to view
That ancestors of mine should interest you,
For I have fared of purpose here to find them. . . .
They are time-worn, true,
That ancestors of mine should interest you,
For I have fared of purpose here to find them. . . .
They are time-worn, true,
“But that's a fault, at most,
Carvers can cure. On the Pacific coast
I have vowed for long that relics of my forbears
I'd trace ere lost,
Carvers can cure. On the Pacific coast
I have vowed for long that relics of my forbears
I'd trace ere lost,
“And hitherward I come,
Before this same old Time shall strike me numb,
To carry it out.”—“Strange, this is!” said the other;
“What mind shall plumb
Before this same old Time shall strike me numb,
To carry it out.”—“Strange, this is!” said the other;
“What mind shall plumb
“Coincident design!
Though these my father's enemies were and mine,
I nourished a like purpose—to restore them
Each letter and line.”
Though these my father's enemies were and mine,
I nourished a like purpose—to restore them
Each letter and line.”
363
“Such magnanimity
Is now not needed, sir; for you will see
That since I am here, a thing like this is, plainly,
Best done by me.”
Is now not needed, sir; for you will see
That since I am here, a thing like this is, plainly,
Best done by me.”
The other bowed, and left,
Crestfallen in sentiment, as one bereft
Of some fair object he had been moved to cherish,
By hands more deft.
Crestfallen in sentiment, as one bereft
Of some fair object he had been moved to cherish,
By hands more deft.
And as he slept that night
The phantoms of the ensepulchred stood upright
Before him, trembling that he had set him seeking
Their charnel-site.
The phantoms of the ensepulchred stood upright
Before him, trembling that he had set him seeking
Their charnel-site.
And, as unknowing his ruth,
Asked as with terrors founded not on truth
Why he should want them. “Ha,” they hollowly hackered,
“You come, forsooth,
Asked as with terrors founded not on truth
Why he should want them. “Ha,” they hollowly hackered,
“You come, forsooth,
“By stealth to obliterate
Our graven worth, our chronicle, our date,
That our descendant may not gild the record
Of our past state,
Our graven worth, our chronicle, our date,
That our descendant may not gild the record
Of our past state,
“And that no sage may say
In pensive progress near where we decay:
‘This stone records a luminous line whose talents
Told in their day.’”
In pensive progress near where we decay:
‘This stone records a luminous line whose talents
Told in their day.’”
Upon the morrow he went,
And to that town and churchyard never bent
His ageing footsteps till, some twelvemonths onward,
An accident
And to that town and churchyard never bent
His ageing footsteps till, some twelvemonths onward,
An accident
Once more detained him there;
And, stirred by hauntings, he must needs repair
To where the tomb was. Lo, it stood still wasting
In no man's care.
And, stirred by hauntings, he must needs repair
To where the tomb was. Lo, it stood still wasting
In no man's care.
And so the tomb remained
Untouched, untended, crumbling, weather-stained,
And though the one-time foe was fain to right it
He still refrained.
Untouched, untended, crumbling, weather-stained,
And though the one-time foe was fain to right it
He still refrained.
364
“I'll set about it when
I am sure he'll come no more. Best wait till then.”
But so it was that never the kinsman entered
That city again.
I am sure he'll come no more. Best wait till then.”
But so it was that never the kinsman entered
That city again.
Till doubts grew keen
If it had chanced not that the figure seen
Shaped but in dream on that dim doubtful midnight:
Such things had been. . . .
If it had chanced not that the figure seen
Shaped but in dream on that dim doubtful midnight:
Such things had been. . . .
So, the well-meaner died
While waiting tremulously unsatisfied
That no return of the family's foreign scion
Would still betide.
While waiting tremulously unsatisfied
That no return of the family's foreign scion
Would still betide.
And many years slid by,
And active church-restorers cast their eye
Upon the ancient garth and hoary building
The tomb stood nigh.
And active church-restorers cast their eye
Upon the ancient garth and hoary building
The tomb stood nigh.
And when they had scraped each wall,
Pulled out the stately pews, and smartened all,
“It will be well,” declared the spruce church-warden,
“To overhaul
Pulled out the stately pews, and smartened all,
“It will be well,” declared the spruce church-warden,
“To overhaul
“And broaden this path where shown;
Nothing prevents it but an old tombstone
Pertaining to a family forgotten,
Of deeds unknown.
Nothing prevents it but an old tombstone
Pertaining to a family forgotten,
Of deeds unknown.
“Their names can scarce be read;
Depend on't, all who care for them are dead.”
So went the tomb, whose shards were as path-paving
Distributed.
Depend on't, all who care for them are dead.”
So went the tomb, whose shards were as path-paving
Distributed.
Over it and about
Men's footsteps beat, and wind and waterspout,
Until the names, aforetime gnawed by weathers,
Were quite worn out.
Men's footsteps beat, and wind and waterspout,
Until the names, aforetime gnawed by weathers,
Were quite worn out.
So that no sage can say
In pensive progress near where they decay,
“This stone records a luminous line whose talents
Told in their day.”
In pensive progress near where they decay,
“This stone records a luminous line whose talents
Told in their day.”
365
“REGRET NOT ME”
Regret not me;
Beneath the sunny tree
I lie uncaring, slumbering peacefully.
Beneath the sunny tree
I lie uncaring, slumbering peacefully.
Swift as the light
I flew my faery flight;
Ecstatically I moved, and feared no night.
I flew my faery flight;
Ecstatically I moved, and feared no night.
I did not know
That heydays fade and go,
But deemed that what was would be always so.
That heydays fade and go,
But deemed that what was would be always so.
I skipped at morn
Between the yellowing corn,
Thinking it good and glorious to be born.
Between the yellowing corn,
Thinking it good and glorious to be born.
I ran at eves
Among the piled-up sheaves,
Dreaming, “I grieve not, therefore nothing grieves.”
Among the piled-up sheaves,
Dreaming, “I grieve not, therefore nothing grieves.”
Now soon will come
The apple, pear, and plum,
And hinds will sing, and autumn insects hum.
The apple, pear, and plum,
And hinds will sing, and autumn insects hum.
Again you will fare
To cider-makings rare,
And junketings; but I shall not be there.
To cider-makings rare,
And junketings; but I shall not be there.
Yet gaily sing
Until the pewter ring
Those songs we sang when we went gipsying.
Until the pewter ring
Those songs we sang when we went gipsying.
And lightly dance
Some triple-timed romance
In coupled figures, and forget mischance;
Some triple-timed romance
In coupled figures, and forget mischance;
And mourn not me
Beneath the yellowing tree;
For I shall mind not, slumbering peacefully.
Beneath the yellowing tree;
For I shall mind not, slumbering peacefully.
THE RECALCITRANTS
Let us off and search, and find a place
Where yours and mine can be natural lives,
Where no one comes who dissects and dives
And proclaims that ours is a curious case,
Which its touch of romance can scarcely grace.
Where yours and mine can be natural lives,
Where no one comes who dissects and dives
And proclaims that ours is a curious case,
Which its touch of romance can scarcely grace.
You would think it strange at first, but then
Everything has been strange in its time.
When some one said on a day of the prime
He would bow to no brazen god again
He doubtless dazed the mass of men.
Everything has been strange in its time.
When some one said on a day of the prime
He would bow to no brazen god again
He doubtless dazed the mass of men.
None will see in us a pair whose claims
To righteous judgment we care not making;
Who have doubted if breath be worth the taking,
And have no respect for the current fames
Whence the savour has flown while abide the names.
To righteous judgment we care not making;
Who have doubted if breath be worth the taking,
And have no respect for the current fames
Whence the savour has flown while abide the names.
We have found us already shunned, disdained,
And for re-acceptance have not once striven;
Whatever offence our course has given
The brunt thereof we have long sustained.
Well, let us away, scorned, unexplained.
And for re-acceptance have not once striven;
Whatever offence our course has given
The brunt thereof we have long sustained.
Well, let us away, scorned, unexplained.
STARLINGS ON THE ROOF
“No smoke spreads out of this chimney-pot,
The people who lived here have left the spot,
And others are coming who knew them not.
The people who lived here have left the spot,
And others are coming who knew them not.
“If you listen anon, with an ear intent,
The voices, you'll find, will be different
From the well-known ones of those who went.”
The voices, you'll find, will be different
From the well-known ones of those who went.”
“Why did they go? Their tones so bland
Were quite familiar to our band;
The comers we shall not understand.”
Were quite familiar to our band;
The comers we shall not understand.”
367
“They look for a new life, rich and strange;
They do not know that, let them range
Wherever they may, they will get no change.
They do not know that, let them range
Wherever they may, they will get no change.
“They will drag their house-gear ever so far
In their search for a home no miseries mar;
They will find that as they were they are,
In their search for a home no miseries mar;
They will find that as they were they are,
“That every hearth has a ghost, alack,
And can be but the scene of a bivouac
Till they move their last—no care to pack!”
And can be but the scene of a bivouac
Till they move their last—no care to pack!”
THE MOON LOOKS IN
I
I have risen again,And awhile survey
By my chilly ray
Through your window pane
Your upturned face,
As you think, “Ah—she
Now dreams of me
In her distant place!”
II
I pierce her blindIn her far-off home:
She fixes a comb,
And says in her mind,
“I start in an hour;
Whom shall I meet?
Won't the men be sweet,
And the women sour!”
368
THE SWEET HUSSY
In his early days he was quite surprisedWhen she told him she was compromised
By meetings and lingerings at his whim,
And thinking not of herself but him;
While she lifted orbs aggrieved and round
That scandal should so soon abound,
(As she had raised them to nine or ten
Of antecedent nice young men):
And in remorse he thought with a sigh,
How good she is, and how bad am I!—
It was years before he understood
That she was the wicked one—he the good.
THE TELEGRAM
“O he's suffering—maybe dying—and I not there to aid,
And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?
Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,
As by stealth, to let me know.
And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?
Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,
As by stealth, to let me know.
“He was the best and brightest!—candour shone upon his brow,
And I shall never meet again a soldier such as he,
And I loved him ere I knew it, and perhaps he's sinking now,
Far, far removed from me!”
And I shall never meet again a soldier such as he,
And I loved him ere I knew it, and perhaps he's sinking now,
Far, far removed from me!”
—The yachts ride mute at anchor and the fulling moon is fair,
And the giddy folk are strutting up and down the smooth parade,
And in her wild distraction she seems not to be aware
That she lives no more a maid,
And the giddy folk are strutting up and down the smooth parade,
And in her wild distraction she seems not to be aware
That she lives no more a maid,
But has vowed and wived herself to one who blessed the ground she trod
To and from his scene of ministry, and thought her history known
In its last particular to him—aye, almost as to God,
And believed her quite his own.
To and from his scene of ministry, and thought her history known
In its last particular to him—aye, almost as to God,
And believed her quite his own.
So rapt her mind's far-off regard she droops as in a swoon,
And a movement of aversion mars her recent spousal grace,
And in silence we two sit here in our waning honeymoon
At this idle watering-place. . . .
And a movement of aversion mars her recent spousal grace,
369
At this idle watering-place. . . .
What now I see before me is a long lane overhung
With lovelessness, and stretching from the present to the grave.
And I would I were away from this, with friends I knew when young,
Ere a woman held me slave.
With lovelessness, and stretching from the present to the grave.
And I would I were away from this, with friends I knew when young,
Ere a woman held me slave.
THE MOTH-SIGNAL
(On Egdon Heath)
“What are you still, still thinking,”
He asked in vague surmise,
“That you stare at the wick unblinking
With those deep lost luminous eyes?”
He asked in vague surmise,
“That you stare at the wick unblinking
With those deep lost luminous eyes?”
“O, I see a poor moth burning
In the candle flame,” said she,
“Its wings and legs are turning
To a cinder rapidly.”
In the candle flame,” said she,
“Its wings and legs are turning
To a cinder rapidly.”
“Moths fly in from the heather,”
He said, “now the days decline.”
“I know,” said she. “The weather,
I hope, will at last be fine.
He said, “now the days decline.”
“I know,” said she. “The weather,
I hope, will at last be fine.
“I think,” she added lightly,
“I'll look out at the door.
The ring the moon wears nightly
May be visible now no more.”
“I'll look out at the door.
The ring the moon wears nightly
May be visible now no more.”
She rose, and, little heeding,
Her life-mate then went on
With his mute and museful reading
In the annals of ages gone.
Her life-mate then went on
With his mute and museful reading
In the annals of ages gone.
Outside the house a figure
Came from the tumulus near,
And speedily waxed bigger,
And clasped and called her Dear.
Came from the tumulus near,
And speedily waxed bigger,
And clasped and called her Dear.
370
“I saw the pale-winged token
You sent through the crack,” sighed she.
“That moth is burnt and broken
With which you lured out me.
You sent through the crack,” sighed she.
“That moth is burnt and broken
With which you lured out me.
“And were I as the moth is
It might be better far
For one whose marriage troth is
Shattered as potsherds are!”
It might be better far
For one whose marriage troth is
Shattered as potsherds are!”
Then grinned the Ancient Briton
From the tumulus treed with pine:
“So, hearts are thwartly smitten
In these days as in mine!”
From the tumulus treed with pine:
“So, hearts are thwartly smitten
In these days as in mine!”
SEEN BY THE WAITS
Through snowy woods and shady
We went to play a tune
To the lonely manor-lady
By the light of the Christmas moon.
We went to play a tune
To the lonely manor-lady
By the light of the Christmas moon.
We violed till, upward glancing
To where a mirror leaned,
It showed her airily dancing,
Deeming her movements screened;
To where a mirror leaned,
It showed her airily dancing,
Deeming her movements screened;
Dancing alone in the room there,
Thin-draped in her robe of night;
Her postures, glassed in the gloom there,
Were a strange phantasmal sight.
Thin-draped in her robe of night;
Her postures, glassed in the gloom there,
Were a strange phantasmal sight.
She had learnt (we heard when homing)
That her roving spouse was dead:
Why she had danced in the gloaming
We thought, but never said.
That her roving spouse was dead:
Why she had danced in the gloaming
We thought, but never said.
371
THE TWO SOLDIERS
Just at the corner of the wall
We met—yes, he and I—
Who had not faced in camp or hall
Since we bade home good-bye,
And what once happened came back—all—
Out of those years gone by;
We met—yes, he and I—
Who had not faced in camp or hall
Since we bade home good-bye,
And what once happened came back—all—
Out of those years gone by;
And that strange woman whom we knew
And loved—long dead and gone,
Whose poor half-perished residue,
Tombless and trod, lay yon.
But at this moment to our view
Rose like a phantom wan!
And loved—long dead and gone,
Whose poor half-perished residue,
Tombless and trod, lay yon.
But at this moment to our view
Rose like a phantom wan!
And in his fixed face I could see,
Lit by a lurid shine,
The drama re-enact which she
Had dyed incarnadine
For us, and more. And doubtless he
Beheld it too in mine.
Lit by a lurid shine,
The drama re-enact which she
Had dyed incarnadine
For us, and more. And doubtless he
Beheld it too in mine.
A start, as at one slightly known;
And with an indifferent air
We passed, without a sign being shown
That, as it real were,
A memory-acted scene had thrown
Its tragic shadow there.
And with an indifferent air
We passed, without a sign being shown
That, as it real were,
A memory-acted scene had thrown
Its tragic shadow there.
THE DEATH OF REGRET
I opened my shutter at sunrise,
And looked at the hill hard by,
And I heartily grieved for the comrade
Who wandered up there to die.
And looked at the hill hard by,
And I heartily grieved for the comrade
Who wandered up there to die.
I let in the morn on the morrow,
And failed not to think of him then,
As he trod up that rise in the twilight,
And never came down again.
And failed not to think of him then,
As he trod up that rise in the twilight,
And never came down again.
372
I undid the shutter a week thence,
But not until after I'd turned
Did I call back his last departure
By the upland there discerned.
But not until after I'd turned
Did I call back his last departure
By the upland there discerned.
Uncovering the casement long later,
I bent to my toil till the gray,
When I said to myself, “Ah—what ails me,
To forget him all the day!”
I bent to my toil till the gray,
When I said to myself, “Ah—what ails me,
To forget him all the day!”
As daily I flung back the shutter
In the same blank bald routine,
He scarcely once rose to remembrance
Through a month of my facing the scene.
In the same blank bald routine,
He scarcely once rose to remembrance
Through a month of my facing the scene.
And ah, seldom now do I ponder
At the window as heretofore
On the long valued one who died yonder,
And wastes by the sycamore.
At the window as heretofore
On the long valued one who died yonder,
And wastes by the sycamore.
IN THE DAYS OF CRINOLINE
A plain tilt-bonnet on her head
She took the path across the leaze.
—Her spouse the vicar, gardening, said,
“Too dowdy that, for coquetries,
So I can hoe at ease.”
She took the path across the leaze.
—Her spouse the vicar, gardening, said,
“Too dowdy that, for coquetries,
So I can hoe at ease.”
But when she had passed into the heath,
And gained the wood beyond the flat,
She raised her skirts, and from beneath
Unpinned and drew as from a sheath
An ostrich-feathered hat.
And gained the wood beyond the flat,
She raised her skirts, and from beneath
Unpinned and drew as from a sheath
An ostrich-feathered hat.
And where the hat had hung she now
Concealed and pinned the dowdy hood,
And set the hat upon her brow,
And thus emerging from the wood
Tripped on in jaunty mood.
Concealed and pinned the dowdy hood,
And set the hat upon her brow,
And thus emerging from the wood
Tripped on in jaunty mood.
The sun was low and crimson-faced
As two came that way from the town,
And plunged into the wood untraced. . . .
When severally therefrom they paced
The sun had quite gone down.
As two came that way from the town,
373
When severally therefrom they paced
The sun had quite gone down.
The hat and feather disappeared,
The dowdy hood again was donned,
And in the gloom the fair one neared
Her home and husband dour, who conned
Calmly his blue-eyed blonde.
The dowdy hood again was donned,
And in the gloom the fair one neared
Her home and husband dour, who conned
Calmly his blue-eyed blonde.
“To-day,” he said, “you have shown good sense,
A dress so modest and so meek
Should always deck your goings hence
Alone.” And as a recompense
He kissed her on the cheek.
A dress so modest and so meek
Should always deck your goings hence
Alone.” And as a recompense
He kissed her on the cheek.
THE ROMAN GRAVEMOUNDS
By Rome's dim relics there walks a man,
Eyes bent; and he carries a basket and spade;
I guess what impels him to scrape and scan;
Yea, his dreams of that Empire long decayed.
Eyes bent; and he carries a basket and spade;
I guess what impels him to scrape and scan;
Yea, his dreams of that Empire long decayed.
“Vast was Rome,” he must muse, “in the world's regard,
Vast it looms there still, vast it ever will be”;
And he stoops as to dig and unmine some shard
Left by those who are held in such memory.
Vast it looms there still, vast it ever will be”;
And he stoops as to dig and unmine some shard
Left by those who are held in such memory.
But no; in his basket, see, he has brought
A little white furred thing, stiff of limb,
Whose life never won from the world a thought;
It is this, and not Rome, that is moving him.
A little white furred thing, stiff of limb,
Whose life never won from the world a thought;
It is this, and not Rome, that is moving him.
And to make it a grave he has come to the spot,
And he delves in the ancient dead's long home;
Their fames, their achievements, the man knows not;
The furred thing is all to him—nothing Rome!
And he delves in the ancient dead's long home;
Their fames, their achievements, the man knows not;
The furred thing is all to him—nothing Rome!
“Here say you that Cæsar's warriors lie?—
But my little white cat was my only friend!
Could she but live, might the record die
Of Cæsar, his legions, his aims, his end!”
But my little white cat was my only friend!
Could she but live, might the record die
Of Cæsar, his legions, his aims, his end!”
374
Well, Rome's long rule here is oft and again
A theme for the sages of history,
And the small furred life was worth no one's pen;
Yet its mourner's mood has a charm for me.
A theme for the sages of history,
And the small furred life was worth no one's pen;
Yet its mourner's mood has a charm for me.
November 1910.
THE WORKBOX
“See, here's the workbox, little wife,
That I made of polished oak.”
He was a joiner, of village life;
She came of borough folk.
That I made of polished oak.”
He was a joiner, of village life;
She came of borough folk.
He holds the present up to her
As with a smile she nears
And answers to the profferer,
“'Twill last all my sewing years!”
As with a smile she nears
And answers to the profferer,
“'Twill last all my sewing years!”
“I warrant it will. And longer too.
'Tis a scantling that I got
Off poor John Wayward's coffin, who
Died of they knew not what.
'Tis a scantling that I got
Off poor John Wayward's coffin, who
Died of they knew not what.
“The shingled pattern that seems to cease
Against your box's rim
Continues right on in the piece
That's underground with him.
Against your box's rim
Continues right on in the piece
That's underground with him.
“And while I worked it made me think
Of timber's varied doom;
One inch where people eat and drink,
The next inch in a tomb.
Of timber's varied doom;
One inch where people eat and drink,
The next inch in a tomb.
“But why do you look so white, my dear,
And turn aside your face?
You knew not that good lad, I fear,
Though he came from your native place?”
And turn aside your face?
You knew not that good lad, I fear,
Though he came from your native place?”
“How could I know that good young man,
Though he came from my native town,
When he must have left far earlier than
I was a woman grown?”
Though he came from my native town,
When he must have left far earlier than
I was a woman grown?”
375
“Ah, no. I should have understood!
It shocked you that I gave
To you one end of a piece of wood
Whose other is in a grave?”
It shocked you that I gave
To you one end of a piece of wood
Whose other is in a grave?”
“Don't, dear, despise my intellect,
Mere accidental things
Of that sort never have effect
On my imaginings.”
Mere accidental things
Of that sort never have effect
On my imaginings.”
Yet still her lips were limp and wan,
Her face still held aside,
As if she had known not only John,
But known of what he died.
Her face still held aside,
As if she had known not only John,
But known of what he died.
THE SACRILEGE
A BALLAD-TRAGEDY (Circa 182*)
Part I
“I have a Love I love too well
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor;
I have a Love I love too well,
To whom, ere she was mine,
‘Such is my love for you,’ I said,
‘That you shall have to hood your head
A silken kerchief crimson-red,
Wove finest of the fine.’
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor;
I have a Love I love too well,
To whom, ere she was mine,
‘Such is my love for you,’ I said,
‘That you shall have to hood your head
A silken kerchief crimson-red,
Wove finest of the fine.’
“And since this Love, for one mad moon,
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor,
Since this my Love for one mad moon
Did clasp me as her king,
I snatched a silk-piece red and rare
From off a stall at Priddy Fair,
For handkerchief to hood her hair
When we went gallanting.
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor,
Since this my Love for one mad moon
Did clasp me as her king,
I snatched a silk-piece red and rare
From off a stall at Priddy Fair,
For handkerchief to hood her hair
When we went gallanting.
“Full soon the four weeks neared their end
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor;
And when the four weeks neared their end,
And their swift sweets outwore,
I said, ‘What shall I do to own
Those beauties bright as tulips blown,
And keep you here with me alone
As mine for evermore?’
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor;
376
And their swift sweets outwore,
I said, ‘What shall I do to own
Those beauties bright as tulips blown,
And keep you here with me alone
As mine for evermore?’
“And as she drowsed within my van
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor—
And as she drowsed within my van,
And dawning turned to day,
She heavily raised her sloe-back eyes
And murmured back in softest wise,
‘One more thing, and the charms you prize
Are yours henceforth for aye.
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor—
And as she drowsed within my van,
And dawning turned to day,
She heavily raised her sloe-back eyes
And murmured back in softest wise,
‘One more thing, and the charms you prize
Are yours henceforth for aye.
“‘And swear I will I'll never go
While Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor
To meet the Cornish Wrestler Joe
For dance and dallyings.
If you'll to yon cathedral shrine,
And finger from the chest divine
Treasure to buy me ear-drops fine,
And richly jewelled rings.’
While Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor
To meet the Cornish Wrestler Joe
For dance and dallyings.
If you'll to yon cathedral shrine,
And finger from the chest divine
Treasure to buy me ear-drops fine,
And richly jewelled rings.’
“I said: ‘I am one who has gathered gear
From Marlbury Downs to Dunkery Tor,
Who has gathered gear for many a year
From mansion, mart and fair;
But at God's house I've stayed my hand,
Hearing within me some command—
Curbed by a law not of the land
From doing damage there!’
From Marlbury Downs to Dunkery Tor,
Who has gathered gear for many a year
From mansion, mart and fair;
But at God's house I've stayed my hand,
Hearing within me some command—
Curbed by a law not of the land
From doing damage there!’
“Whereat she pouts, this Love of mine,
As Dunkery pouts to Exon Moor,
And still she pouts, this Love of mine,
So cityward I go.
But ere I start to do the thing,
And speed my soul's imperilling
For one who is my ravishing
And all the joy I know,
As Dunkery pouts to Exon Moor,
And still she pouts, this Love of mine,
So cityward I go.
But ere I start to do the thing,
And speed my soul's imperilling
For one who is my ravishing
And all the joy I know,
377
“I come to lay this charge on thee—
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor—
I come to lay this charge on thee
With solemn speech and sign:
Should things go ill, and my life pay
For botchery in this rash assay,
You are to take hers likewise—yea,
The month the law takes mine.
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor—
I come to lay this charge on thee
With solemn speech and sign:
Should things go ill, and my life pay
For botchery in this rash assay,
You are to take hers likewise—yea,
The month the law takes mine.
“For should my rival, Wrestler Joe,
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor—
My reckless rival, Wrestler Joe,
My Love's bedwinner be,
My rafted spirit would not rest,
But wander weary and distrest
Throughout the world in wild protest:
The thought nigh maddens me!”
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor—
My reckless rival, Wrestler Joe,
My Love's bedwinner be,
My rafted spirit would not rest,
But wander weary and distrest
Throughout the world in wild protest:
The thought nigh maddens me!”
Part II
Thus did he speak—this brother of mine—
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor,
Born at my birth of mother of mine,
And forthwith went his way
To dare the deed some coming night . . .
I kept the watch with shaking sight,
The moon at moments breaking bright,
At others glooming gray.
On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor,
Born at my birth of mother of mine,
And forthwith went his way
To dare the deed some coming night . . .
I kept the watch with shaking sight,
The moon at moments breaking bright,
At others glooming gray.
For three full days I heard no sound
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor,
I heard no sound at all around
Whether his fay prevailed,
Or one more foul the master were,
Till some afoot did tidings bear
How that, for all his practised care,
He had been caught and jailed.
Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor,
I heard no sound at all around
Whether his fay prevailed,
Or one more foul the master were,
Till some afoot did tidings bear
How that, for all his practised care,
He had been caught and jailed.
They had heard a crash when twelve had chimed
By Mendip east of Dunkery Tor,
When twelve had chimed and moonlight climbed;
They watched, and he was tracked
By arch and aisle and saint and knight
Of sculptured stonework sheeted white
In the cathedral's ghostly light,
And captured in the act.
By Mendip east of Dunkery Tor,
When twelve had chimed and moonlight climbed;
They watched, and he was tracked
By arch and aisle and saint and knight
378
In the cathedral's ghostly light,
And captured in the act.
Yes; for this Love he loved too well
Where Dunkery sights the Severn shore,
All for this Love he loved too well
He burst the holy bars,
Seized golden vessels from the chest
To buy her ornaments of the best,
At her ill-witchery's request
And lure of eyes like stars. . . .
Where Dunkery sights the Severn shore,
All for this Love he loved too well
He burst the holy bars,
Seized golden vessels from the chest
To buy her ornaments of the best,
At her ill-witchery's request
And lure of eyes like stars. . . .
When blustering March confused the sky
In Toneborough Town by Exon Moor,
When blustering March confused the sky
They stretched him; and he died.
Down in the crowd where I, to see
The end of him, stood silently,
With a set face he lipped to me—
“Remember.” “Ay!” I cried.
In Toneborough Town by Exon Moor,
When blustering March confused the sky
They stretched him; and he died.
Down in the crowd where I, to see
The end of him, stood silently,
With a set face he lipped to me—
“Remember.” “Ay!” I cried.
By night and day I shadowed her
From Toneborough Deane to Dunkery Tor,
I shadowed her asleep, astir,
And yet I could not bear—
Till Wrestler Joe anon began
To figure as her chosen man,
And took her to his shining van—
To doom a form so fair!
From Toneborough Deane to Dunkery Tor,
I shadowed her asleep, astir,
And yet I could not bear—
Till Wrestler Joe anon began
To figure as her chosen man,
And took her to his shining van—
To doom a form so fair!
He made it handsome for her sake—
And Dunkery smiled to Exon Moor—
He made it handsome for her sake,
Painting it out and in;
And on the door of apple-green
A bright brass knocker soon was seen,
And window-curtains white and clean
For her to sit within.
And Dunkery smiled to Exon Moor—
He made it handsome for her sake,
Painting it out and in;
And on the door of apple-green
A bright brass knocker soon was seen,
And window-curtains white and clean
For her to sit within.
And all could see she clave to him
As cleaves a cloud to Dunkery Tor,
Yea, all could see she clave to him,
And every day I said,
“A pity it seems to part those two
That hourly grow to love more true:
Yet she's the wanton woman who
Sent one to swing till dead!”
As cleaves a cloud to Dunkery Tor,
Yea, all could see she clave to him,
And every day I said,
379
That hourly grow to love more true:
Yet she's the wanton woman who
Sent one to swing till dead!”
That blew to blazing all my hate,
While Dunkery frowned on Exon Moor,
And when the river swelled, her fate
Came to her pitilessly. . . .
I dogged her, crying: “Across that plank
They use as bridge to reach yon bank
A coat and hat lie limp and dank;
Your goodman's, can they be?”
While Dunkery frowned on Exon Moor,
And when the river swelled, her fate
Came to her pitilessly. . . .
I dogged her, crying: “Across that plank
They use as bridge to reach yon bank
A coat and hat lie limp and dank;
Your goodman's, can they be?”
She paled, and went, I close behind—
And Exon frowned to Dunkery Tor,
She went, and I came up behind
And tipped the plank that bore
Her, fleetly flitting across to eye
What such might bode. She slid awry;
And from the current came a cry,
A gurgle; and no more.
And Exon frowned to Dunkery Tor,
She went, and I came up behind
And tipped the plank that bore
Her, fleetly flitting across to eye
What such might bode. She slid awry;
And from the current came a cry,
A gurgle; and no more.
How that befell no mortal knew
From Marlbury Downs to Exon Moor;
No mortal knew that deed undue
But he who schemed the crime,
Which night still covers. . . . But in dream
Those ropes of hair upon the stream
He sees, and he will hear that scream
Until his judgment-time.
From Marlbury Downs to Exon Moor;
No mortal knew that deed undue
But he who schemed the crime,
Which night still covers. . . . But in dream
Those ropes of hair upon the stream
He sees, and he will hear that scream
Until his judgment-time.
THE ABBEY MASON
INVENTOR OF THE “PERPENDICULAR” STYLE OF GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE
(With Memories of John Hicks, Architect)
The new-vamped Abbey shaped apace
In the fourteenth century of grace;
In the fourteenth century of grace;
(The church which, at an after date,
Acquired cathedral rank and state.)
Acquired cathedral rank and state.)
380
Panel and circumscribing wall
Of latest feature, trim and tall,
Of latest feature, trim and tall,
Rose roundabout the Norman core
In prouder pose than theretofore,
In prouder pose than theretofore,
Encasing magically the old
With parpend ashlars manifold.
With parpend ashlars manifold.
The trowels rang out, and tracery
Appeared where blanks had used to be.
Appeared where blanks had used to be.
Men toiled for pleasure more than pay,
And all went smoothly day by day,
And all went smoothly day by day,
Till, in due course, the transept part
Engrossed the master-mason's art.
Engrossed the master-mason's art.
—Home-coming thence he tossed and turned
Throughout the night till the new sun burned.
Throughout the night till the new sun burned.
“What fearful visions have inspired
These gaingivings?” his wife inquired;
These gaingivings?” his wife inquired;
“As if your tools were in your hand
You have hammered, fitted, muttered, planned;
You have hammered, fitted, muttered, planned;
“You have thumped as you were working hard:
I might have found me bruised and scarred.
I might have found me bruised and scarred.
“What then's amiss? What eating care
Looms nigh, whereof I am unaware?”
Looms nigh, whereof I am unaware?”
He answered not, but churchward went,
Viewing his draughts with discontent;
Viewing his draughts with discontent;
And fumbled there the livelong day
Till, hollow-eyed, he came away.
Till, hollow-eyed, he came away.
—'Twas said, “The master-mason's ill!”
And all the abbey works stood still.
And all the abbey works stood still.
Quoth Abbot Wygmore: “Why, O why
Distress yourself? You'll surely die!”
Distress yourself? You'll surely die!”
The mason answered, trouble-torn,
“This long-vogued style is quite outworn!
“This long-vogued style is quite outworn!
381
“The upper archmould nohow serves
To meet the lower tracery curves:
To meet the lower tracery curves:
“The ogees bend too far away
To give the flexures interplay.
To give the flexures interplay.
“This it is causes my distress. . . .
So it will ever be unless
So it will ever be unless
“New forms be found to supersede
The circle when occasions need.
The circle when occasions need.
“To carry it out I have tried and toiled,
And now perforce must own me foiled!
And now perforce must own me foiled!
“Jeerers will say: ‘Here was a man
Who could not end what he began!’”
Who could not end what he began!’”
—So passed that day, the next, the next;
The abbot scanned the task, perplexed;
The abbot scanned the task, perplexed;
The townsmen mustered all their wit
To fathom how to compass it,
To fathom how to compass it,
But no raw artistries availed
Where practice in the craft had failed. . . .
Where practice in the craft had failed. . . .
—One night he tossed, all open-eyed,
And early left his helpmeet's side.
And early left his helpmeet's side.
Scattering the rushes of the floor
He wandered from the chamber door
He wandered from the chamber door
And sought the sizing pile, whereon
Struck dimly a cadaverous dawn
Struck dimly a cadaverous dawn
Through freezing rain, that drenched the board
Of diagram-lines he last had scored—
Of diagram-lines he last had scored—
Chalked phantasies in vain begot
To knife the architectural knot—
To knife the architectural knot—
In front of which he dully stood,
Regarding them in hopeless mood.
Regarding them in hopeless mood.
He closelier looked; then looked again:
The chalk-scratched draught-board faced the rain,
The chalk-scratched draught-board faced the rain,
382
Whose icicled drops deformed the lines
Innumerous of his lame designs,
Innumerous of his lame designs,
So that they streamed in small white threads
From the upper segments to the heads
From the upper segments to the heads
Of arcs below, uniting them
Each by a stalactitic stem.
Each by a stalactitic stem.
—At once, with eyes that struck out sparks,
He adds accessory cusping-marks,
He adds accessory cusping-marks,
Then laughs aloud. The thing was done
So long assayed from sun to sun. . . .
So long assayed from sun to sun. . . .
—Now in his joy he grew aware
Of one behind him standing there,
Of one behind him standing there,
And, turning, saw the abbot, who
The weather's whim was watching too.
The weather's whim was watching too.
Onward to Prime the abbot went,
Tacit upon the incident.
Tacit upon the incident.
—Men now discerned as days revolved
The ogive riddle had been solved;
The ogive riddle had been solved;
Templates were cut, fresh lines were chalked
Where lines had been defaced and balked,
Where lines had been defaced and balked,
And the work swelled and mounted higher,
Achievement distancing desire;
Achievement distancing desire;
Here jambs with transoms fixed between,
Where never the like before had been—
Where never the like before had been—
There little mullions thinly sawn
Where meeting circles once were drawn.
Where meeting circles once were drawn.
“We knew,” men said, “the thing would go
After his craft-wit got aglow,
After his craft-wit got aglow,
“And, once fulfilled what he has designed,
We'll honour him and his great mind!”
We'll honour him and his great mind!”
When matters stood thus poised awhile,
And all surroundings shed a smile,
And all surroundings shed a smile,
383
The master-mason on an eve
Homed to his wife and seemed to grieve. . . .
Homed to his wife and seemed to grieve. . . .
—“The abbot spoke to me to-day;
He hangs about the works alway.
He hangs about the works alway.
“He knows the source as well as I
Of the new style men magnify.
Of the new style men magnify.
“He said: ‘You pride yourself too much
On your creation. Is it such?
On your creation. Is it such?
“‘Surely the hand of God it is
That conjured so, and only His!—
That conjured so, and only His!—
“‘Disclosing by the frost and rain
Forms your invention chased in vain;
Forms your invention chased in vain;
“‘Hence the devices deemed so great
You copied, and did not create.’
You copied, and did not create.’
“I feel the abbot's words are just,
And that all thanks renounce I must.
And that all thanks renounce I must.
“Can a man welcome praise and pelf
For hatching art that hatched itself? . . .
For hatching art that hatched itself? . . .
“So, I shall own the deft design
Is Heaven's outshaping, and not mine.”
Is Heaven's outshaping, and not mine.”
“What!” said she. “Praise your works ensure
To throw away, and quite obscure
To throw away, and quite obscure
“Your beaming and beneficent star?
Better you leave things as they are!
Better you leave things as they are!
“Why, think awhile. Had not your zest
In your loved craft curtailed your rest—
In your loved craft curtailed your rest—
“Had you not gone there ere the day
The sun had melted all away!”
The sun had melted all away!”
—But, though his good wife argued so,
The mason let the people know
The mason let the people know
That not unaided sprang the thought
Whereby the glorious fane was wrought,
Whereby the glorious fane was wrought,
384
But that by frost when dawn was dim
The method was disclosed to him.
The method was disclosed to him.
“Yet,” said the townspeople thereat,
“'Tis your own doing, even with that!”
“'Tis your own doing, even with that!”
But he—chafed, childlike, in extremes—
The temperament of men of dreams—
The temperament of men of dreams—
Aloofly scrupled to admit
That he did aught but borrow it,
That he did aught but borrow it,
And diffidently made request
That with the abbot all should rest.
That with the abbot all should rest.
—As none could doubt the abbot's word,
Or question what the church averred,
Or question what the church averred,
The mason was at length believed
Of no more count than he conceived,
Of no more count than he conceived,
And soon began to lose the fame
That late had gathered round his name. . .
That late had gathered round his name. . .
—Time passed, and like a living thing
The pile went on embodying,
The pile went on embodying,
And workmen died, and young ones grew,
And the old mason sank from view
And the old mason sank from view
And Abbots Wygmore and Staunton went
And Horton sped the embellishment.
And Horton sped the embellishment.
But not till years had far progressed
Chanced it that, one day, much impressed,
Chanced it that, one day, much impressed,
Standing within the well-graced aisle,
He asked who first conceived the style;
He asked who first conceived the style;
And some decrepit sage detailed
How, when invention nought availed,
How, when invention nought availed,
The cloud-cast waters in their whim
Came down, and gave the hint to him
Came down, and gave the hint to him
Who struck each arc, and made each mould;
And how the abbot would not hold
And how the abbot would not hold
385
As sole begetter him who applied
Forms the Almighty sent as guide;
Forms the Almighty sent as guide;
And how the master lost renown,
And wore in death no artist's crown.
And wore in death no artist's crown.
—Then Horton, who in inner thought
Had more perceptions than he taught,
Had more perceptions than he taught,
Replied: “Nay; art can but transmute;
Invention is not absolute;
Invention is not absolute;
“Things fail to spring from nought at call,
And art-beginnings most of all.
And art-beginnings most of all.
“He did but what all artists do,
Wait upon Nature for his cue.”
Wait upon Nature for his cue.”
—“Had you been here to tell them so,
Lord Abbot, sixty years ago,
Lord Abbot, sixty years ago,
“The mason, now long underground,
Doubtless a different fate had found.
Doubtless a different fate had found.
“He passed into oblivion dim,
And none knew what became of him!
And none knew what became of him!
“His name? 'Twas of some common kind
And now has faded out of mind.”
And now has faded out of mind.”
The Abbot: “It shall not be hid!
I'll trace it.” . . . But he never did.
I'll trace it.” . . . But he never did.
—When longer yet dank death had wormed
The brain wherein the style had germed
The brain wherein the style had germed
From Gloucester church it flew afar—
The style called Perpendicular.—
The style called Perpendicular.—
To Winton and to Westminster
It ranged, and grew still beautifuller:
It ranged, and grew still beautifuller:
From Solway Frith to Dover Strand
Its fascinations starred the land,
Its fascinations starred the land,
Not only on cathedral walls
But upon courts and castle halls,
But upon courts and castle halls,
386
Till every edifice in the isle
Was patterned to no other style,
Was patterned to no other style,
And till, long having played its part
The curtain fell on Gothic art.
The curtain fell on Gothic art.
—Well: when in Wessex on your rounds,
Take a brief step beyond its bounds,
Take a brief step beyond its bounds,
And enter Gloucester: seek the quoin
Where choir and transept interjoin,
Where choir and transept interjoin,
And, gazing at the forms there flung
Against the sky by one unsung—
Against the sky by one unsung—
The ogee arches transom-topped,
The tracery-stalks by spandrels stopped,
The tracery-stalks by spandrels stopped,
Petrified lacework—lightly lined
On ancient massiveness behind—
On ancient massiveness behind—
Muse that some minds so modest be
As to renounce fame's fairest fee,
As to renounce fame's fairest fee,
(Like him who crystallized on this spot
His visionings, but lies forgot,
His visionings, but lies forgot,
And many a mediaeval one
Whose symmetries salute the sun)
Whose symmetries salute the sun)
While others boom a baseless claim,
And upon nothing rear a name.
And upon nothing rear a name.
THE JUBILEE OF A MAGAZINE
(To the Editor)
Yes; your up-dated modern page—
All flower-fresh, as it appears—
Can claim a time-tried lineage,
All flower-fresh, as it appears—
Can claim a time-tried lineage,
That reaches backward fifty years
(Which, if but short for sleepy squires,
Is much in magazines' careers).
(Which, if but short for sleepy squires,
Is much in magazines' careers).
387
—Here, on your cover, never tires
The sower, reaper, thresher, while
As through the seasons of our sires
The sower, reaper, thresher, while
As through the seasons of our sires
Each wills to work in ancient style
With seedlip, sickle, share and flail,
Though modes have since moved many a mile!
With seedlip, sickle, share and flail,
Though modes have since moved many a mile!
The steel-roped plough now rips the vale,
With cog and tooth the sheaves are won,
Wired wheels drum out the wheat like hail;
With cog and tooth the sheaves are won,
Wired wheels drum out the wheat like hail;
But if we ask, what has been done
To unify the mortal lot
Since your bright leaves first saw the sun,
To unify the mortal lot
Since your bright leaves first saw the sun,
Beyond mechanic furtherance—what
Advance can rightness, candour, claim?
Truth bends abashed, and answers not.
Advance can rightness, candour, claim?
Truth bends abashed, and answers not.
Despite your volumes' gentle aim
To straighten visions wry and wrong,
Events jar onward much the same!
To straighten visions wry and wrong,
Events jar onward much the same!
—Had custom tended to prolong,
As on your golden page engrained,
Old processes of blade and prong,
As on your golden page engrained,
Old processes of blade and prong,
And best invention been retained
For high crusades to lessen tears
Throughout the race, the world had gained! . . .
But too much, this, for fifty years.
For high crusades to lessen tears
Throughout the race, the world had gained! . . .
But too much, this, for fifty years.
THE SATIN SHOES
“If ever I walk to church to wed,
As other maidens use,
And face the gathered eyes,” she said
“I'll go in satin shoes!”
As other maidens use,
And face the gathered eyes,” she said
“I'll go in satin shoes!”
She was as fair as early day
Shining on meads unmown,
And her sweet syllables seemed to play
Like flute-notes softly blown.
Shining on meads unmown,
388
Like flute-notes softly blown.
The time arrived when it was meet
That she should be a bride;
The satin shoes were on her feet,
Her father was at her side.
That she should be a bride;
The satin shoes were on her feet,
Her father was at her side.
They stood within the dairy door,
And gazed across the green;
The church loomed on the distant moor,
But rain was thick between.
And gazed across the green;
The church loomed on the distant moor,
But rain was thick between.
“The grass-path hardly can be stepped,
The lane is like a pool!”—
Her dream is shown to be inept,
Her wish they overrule.
The lane is like a pool!”—
Her dream is shown to be inept,
Her wish they overrule.
“To go forth shod in satin soft
A coach would be required!”
For thickest boots the shoes were doffed—
Those shoes her soul desired. . . .
A coach would be required!”
For thickest boots the shoes were doffed—
Those shoes her soul desired. . . .
All day the bride, as overborne,
Was seen to brood apart,
And that the shoes had not been worn
Sat heavy on her heart.
Was seen to brood apart,
And that the shoes had not been worn
Sat heavy on her heart.
From her wrecked dream, as months flew on,
Her thought seemed not to range.
“What ails the wife,” they said anon,
“That she should be so strange?” . . .
Her thought seemed not to range.
“What ails the wife,” they said anon,
“That she should be so strange?” . . .
Ah—what coach comes with furtive glide—
A coach of closed-up kind?
It comes to fetch the last year's bride,
Who wanders in her mind.
A coach of closed-up kind?
It comes to fetch the last year's bride,
Who wanders in her mind.
She strove with them, and fearfully ran
Stairward with one low scream:
“Nay—coax her,” said the madhouse man,
“With some old household theme.”
Stairward with one low scream:
“Nay—coax her,” said the madhouse man,
“With some old household theme.”
389
“If you will go, dear, you must fain
Put on those shoes—the pair
Meant for your marriage, which the rain
Forbade you then to wear.”
Put on those shoes—the pair
Meant for your marriage, which the rain
Forbade you then to wear.”
She clapped her hands, flushed joyous hues;
“O yes—I'll up and ride
If I am to wear my satin shoes
And be a proper bride!”
“O yes—I'll up and ride
If I am to wear my satin shoes
And be a proper bride!”
Out then her little foot held she,
As to depart with speed;
The madhouse man smiled pleasantly
To see the wile succeed.
As to depart with speed;
The madhouse man smiled pleasantly
To see the wile succeed.
She turned to him when all was done,
And gave him her thin hand,
Exclaiming like an enraptured one,
“This time it will be grand!”
And gave him her thin hand,
Exclaiming like an enraptured one,
“This time it will be grand!”
She mounted with a face elate,
Shut was the carriage door;
They drove her to the madhouse gate,
And she was seen no more. . . .
Shut was the carriage door;
They drove her to the madhouse gate,
And she was seen no more. . . .
Yet she was fair as early day
Shining on meads unmown,
And her sweet syllables seemed to play
Like flute-notes softly blown.
Shining on meads unmown,
And her sweet syllables seemed to play
Like flute-notes softly blown.
EXEUNT OMNES
I
Everybody else, then, going,And I still left where the fair was? . . .
Much have I seen of neighbour loungers
Making a lusty showing,
Each now past all knowing.
390
II
There is an air of blanknessIn the street and the littered spaces;
Thoroughfare, steeple, bridge and highway
Wizen themselves to lankness;
Kennels dribble dankness.
III
Folk all fade. And whither,As I wait alone where the fair was?
Into the clammy and numbing night-fog
Whence they entered hither.
Soon one more goes thither!
June 2, 1913.
A POET
Attentive eyes, fantastic heed,
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the rosy wine.
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the rosy wine.
For loud acclaim he does not care
By the august or rich or fair,
Nor for smart pilgrims from afar,
Curious on where his hauntings are.
By the august or rich or fair,
Nor for smart pilgrims from afar,
Curious on where his hauntings are.
But soon or later, when you hear
That he has doffed this wrinkled gear,
Some evening, at the first star-ray,
Come to his graveside, pause and say:
That he has doffed this wrinkled gear,
Some evening, at the first star-ray,
Come to his graveside, pause and say:
“Whatever his message—glad or grim—
Two bright-souled women clave to him”;
Stand and say that while day decays;
It will be word enough of praise.
Two bright-souled women clave to him”;
Stand and say that while day decays;
It will be word enough of praise.
July 1914.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |