 | Verses (1893) |  |
iii
1
THE PATH OF LIFE.
In the springtime once I wandered 'mid fair flowers of golden hue;
Wonder-eyed I gazed around me in those fields where all was new,
And a path stretched long before me, soft with moss and blossoms white,
While the birds, so sweetly singing, filled my soul with fresh delight.
Down the path, with song and laughter, came three maidens hand in hand,
By their side a shadow glided that I could not understand:
For I scarce could see it coming, yet I knew that it was there,
Like a cloud upon the brightness of a sky that was all fair—
Maids more beauteous than the blossoms of the flowers which deck the lea,
Maids more joyous than the happy birds that flit from tree to tree.
‘Tell me who thou art,’ I pleaded, ‘thou with eyes of peace and love?’
‘I am Hope,’ she softly whispered, pointing with white hand above.
‘Who art thou whose fair cheek flushes, 'neath the kiss of health, so red,
Thou with restless limbs and slender?’—‘I am Youth,’ she gladly said.
‘Who art thou,’ I questioned further, ‘thou with glance of merriment?’
‘We are sisters three,’ she answered, ‘Hope, Youth, Joy, from Heaven sent.’
Then the dim lips of the shadow moved—I heard a faint voice call:
‘On! on! Time must never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’
Wonder-eyed I gazed around me in those fields where all was new,
And a path stretched long before me, soft with moss and blossoms white,
While the birds, so sweetly singing, filled my soul with fresh delight.
Down the path, with song and laughter, came three maidens hand in hand,
By their side a shadow glided that I could not understand:
For I scarce could see it coming, yet I knew that it was there,
Like a cloud upon the brightness of a sky that was all fair—
Maids more beauteous than the blossoms of the flowers which deck the lea,
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‘Tell me who thou art,’ I pleaded, ‘thou with eyes of peace and love?’
‘I am Hope,’ she softly whispered, pointing with white hand above.
‘Who art thou whose fair cheek flushes, 'neath the kiss of health, so red,
Thou with restless limbs and slender?’—‘I am Youth,’ she gladly said.
‘Who art thou,’ I questioned further, ‘thou with glance of merriment?’
‘We are sisters three,’ she answered, ‘Hope, Youth, Joy, from Heaven sent.’
Then the dim lips of the shadow moved—I heard a faint voice call:
‘On! on! Time must never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’
So along the path we wandered—oh! the bliss of those short hours!
Youth and Hope and Joy together 'mid the everblooming flowers
That on life's smooth path were glowing soft beneath my naked feet,
Till I envied nought in Heaven, thinking here my lot complete.
As I raised the flowering branches that across my path would stray,
Lo! I found amidst the blossoms at my feet Love sleeping lay.
‘Wake!’ I cried, ‘my soul would know thee. Stranger, wake! my heart is thine.’
At my call he woke and, rising, laid his burning hand in mine.
‘Thou art Love,’ I said, ‘and fairer than all things that God hath made;
Joy itself must have an ending, Youth is only born to fade,
And alone Love is immortal, faithful Love can never die—
Death's dark gates for him are open, Death himself must let him by.’
Then my heart grew chill, for nigh me once again I heard that call:
‘On! on! Time can never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’
Youth and Hope and Joy together 'mid the everblooming flowers
That on life's smooth path were glowing soft beneath my naked feet,
Till I envied nought in Heaven, thinking here my lot complete.
3
Lo! I found amidst the blossoms at my feet Love sleeping lay.
‘Wake!’ I cried, ‘my soul would know thee. Stranger, wake! my heart is thine.’
At my call he woke and, rising, laid his burning hand in mine.
‘Thou art Love,’ I said, ‘and fairer than all things that God hath made;
Joy itself must have an ending, Youth is only born to fade,
And alone Love is immortal, faithful Love can never die—
Death's dark gates for him are open, Death himself must let him by.’
Then my heart grew chill, for nigh me once again I heard that call:
‘On! on! Time can never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’
So along the path we wandered, pausing oft for sweet caress,
Till my heart felt overflowing with its wealth of happiness;
But lo! on the path before us briars mingled with the moss,
And the flowers died on the branches, but I did not feel their loss.
What cared I, with Love beside me, if the sun should hide its light?
He was summer, he was sunshine, by his side there was no night.
Rougher grew the path before us, and the hedges lost their bloom,
Stretching out their thorny branches like long fingers in the gloom.
Then Love lingered slow behind me, saying, ‘Dear, I cannot stay,
For my feet are weary toiling o'er this rough and thorny way,
For the flowerless branches wound me—for the sun has ceased to shine,
And I dread the growing darkness strange with shapes I can't define.’
So I watched them quick departing; Joy and Love went side by side.
‘O my Love, why hast thou left me?’ in my grief I sadly cried;
‘Love braves all and fears no evil, Love gives all unselfishly,
There's no darkness, there's no danger, there's but Love where Love can be.
Love makes smooth the roughest pathway, Love makes bloom the budless bough—
Youth and Hope thou takest with thee: must I lonely wander now?
And the way so steep before me, wanting thee I could not climb;
No! I'll trace our happy footprints backwards o'er the path of Time.’
But alas! how vain my hoping—on my ears those dread words fall:
‘On! on! Time knows no returning; Death is king and end of all.’
Till my heart felt overflowing with its wealth of happiness;
But lo! on the path before us briars mingled with the moss,
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What cared I, with Love beside me, if the sun should hide its light?
He was summer, he was sunshine, by his side there was no night.
Rougher grew the path before us, and the hedges lost their bloom,
Stretching out their thorny branches like long fingers in the gloom.
Then Love lingered slow behind me, saying, ‘Dear, I cannot stay,
For my feet are weary toiling o'er this rough and thorny way,
For the flowerless branches wound me—for the sun has ceased to shine,
And I dread the growing darkness strange with shapes I can't define.’
So I watched them quick departing; Joy and Love went side by side.
‘O my Love, why hast thou left me?’ in my grief I sadly cried;
‘Love braves all and fears no evil, Love gives all unselfishly,
There's no darkness, there's no danger, there's but Love where Love can be.
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Youth and Hope thou takest with thee: must I lonely wander now?
And the way so steep before me, wanting thee I could not climb;
No! I'll trace our happy footprints backwards o'er the path of Time.’
But alas! how vain my hoping—on my ears those dread words fall:
‘On! on! Time knows no returning; Death is king and end of all.’
Lone I journeyed on, and Sorrow rose with pale cheeks by my side,
Weeping oft that Love had left me, sighing oft that Youth had died;
And a dread shape strode before me, with wild eyes and streaming hair,
Then my heart grew cold with anguish, for I knew this was Despair.
But some hand from out the darkness drew her back into the night,
And the sky grew fair, for Heaven shed upon my path its light.
‘Hope!’ I cried, ‘thou hast returnèd; bring'st thou back my Love to me?’
‘No!’ she said, ‘thy Love was worthless, he has gone and set thee free.
On Life's path two flowers are blooming, one grows gaudy, bright, and tall,
But the other fair and lowly—oft a heedless foot will fall
Crushing down each snowy petal that had sprung from Heaven's seed:
Thou hast passed the purer blossom by to pluck the flaunting weed.
Thou hast sought for sun and sunshine, where to seek thou didst not know,
For thou'st caught the vague reflection here upon the earth below.
If the true sun thou art seeking, thou must turn thine eyes above—
Thou hast feared Death as he followed—he would give thee Life and Love.
Mourn not Love that proved so worthless, there's a purer Love on high—
Mourn not Joy, for Joy is living, yea, a Joy that cannot die.
Mourn not Youth, for Death would lead thee on where years can never be—
As a grain of sand thy life is on that shore—Eternity.
On! and weary not in going, let thy heart obey that call;
On! for Earth holds nought to mourn for—on! for Death gives life to all.’
Weeping oft that Love had left me, sighing oft that Youth had died;
And a dread shape strode before me, with wild eyes and streaming hair,
Then my heart grew cold with anguish, for I knew this was Despair.
But some hand from out the darkness drew her back into the night,
And the sky grew fair, for Heaven shed upon my path its light.
‘Hope!’ I cried, ‘thou hast returnèd; bring'st thou back my Love to me?’
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On Life's path two flowers are blooming, one grows gaudy, bright, and tall,
But the other fair and lowly—oft a heedless foot will fall
Crushing down each snowy petal that had sprung from Heaven's seed:
Thou hast passed the purer blossom by to pluck the flaunting weed.
Thou hast sought for sun and sunshine, where to seek thou didst not know,
For thou'st caught the vague reflection here upon the earth below.
If the true sun thou art seeking, thou must turn thine eyes above—
Thou hast feared Death as he followed—he would give thee Life and Love.
Mourn not Love that proved so worthless, there's a purer Love on high—
Mourn not Joy, for Joy is living, yea, a Joy that cannot die.
Mourn not Youth, for Death would lead thee on where years can never be—
As a grain of sand thy life is on that shore—Eternity.
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On! for Earth holds nought to mourn for—on! for Death gives life to all.’
8
MAN'S DISCONTENT.
White feet half hid in violets, small hands in a burden fair,
A burden of Spring's first blossoms she wove for her neck and hair
Into wreaths, as she paused a moment on the threshold of maidenhood.
O my child love! hesitating, there I met her as she stood.
So I stayed till I grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
Then I thought I longed for Summer, with trees for ever green.
I tired of primrose blossoms and the budding boughs of spring,
And the chirp! chirp! of this year's birds that had not learned to sing.
I thought her soft arms too slender, and the smooth young cheek too clear,
And the April eyes that loved me too ready with smile or tear,
Too ready to read my wishes in mine that she might obey
Ere I spoke; so in the springtime I went from her arms away.
A burden of Spring's first blossoms she wove for her neck and hair
Into wreaths, as she paused a moment on the threshold of maidenhood.
O my child love! hesitating, there I met her as she stood.
So I stayed till I grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
Then I thought I longed for Summer, with trees for ever green.
I tired of primrose blossoms and the budding boughs of spring,
And the chirp! chirp! of this year's birds that had not learned to sing.
I thought her soft arms too slender, and the smooth young cheek too clear,
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Too ready to read my wishes in mine that she might obey
Ere I spoke; so in the springtime I went from her arms away.
I sought my love and I found her, when Summer days were long,
All the hedges bright with blossoms and musical with song,
But the eyes that saw me coming no answer to mine would speak;
The lids drooped till the lashes lay dark on her crimson cheek,
The hands I clasped for a moment would but struggle to be free,
As I tried to win her to speak of love, of herself, of me.
‘Hark! the young birds,’ she only said; ‘dost hear them sing in the wood?’
Love's rosy wings had brushed her eyes as she passed to maidenhood.
So I stayed, but soon grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
And I longed for Autumn colours, not trees for ever green.
Cried I: ‘Its sky at sunset is far more fair than this.’
Then I thought, my love's cheek flushes too ready 'neath my kiss,
That the gentle voice replying spoke love too timidly,
And the shy hands culling blossoms had no caress for me.
I tired of roses' perfume and the song the wild-birds sung,
So I left her in the noon-time, when Summer yet was young.
All the hedges bright with blossoms and musical with song,
But the eyes that saw me coming no answer to mine would speak;
The lids drooped till the lashes lay dark on her crimson cheek,
The hands I clasped for a moment would but struggle to be free,
As I tried to win her to speak of love, of herself, of me.
‘Hark! the young birds,’ she only said; ‘dost hear them sing in the wood?’
Love's rosy wings had brushed her eyes as she passed to maidenhood.
So I stayed, but soon grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
And I longed for Autumn colours, not trees for ever green.
10
Then I thought, my love's cheek flushes too ready 'neath my kiss,
That the gentle voice replying spoke love too timidly,
And the shy hands culling blossoms had no caress for me.
I tired of roses' perfume and the song the wild-birds sung,
So I left her in the noon-time, when Summer yet was young.
'Neath the sunset skies of Autumn, all the heath-clad hills flushed red;
Sweet the lark his matins singing in the blue sky overhead,
And the languid breeze was perfumed by a rose's stolen breath;
'Twas the last white bud of Summer that escaped the hand of death,
And my sweet, I feared to meet her for my yesterday of scorn;
Then I flung myself beside her as she knelt amid the corn.
She only said: ‘To red and gold grew the green young leaf of Spring.
The rose filled the dead cowslip's throne; now poppy reigns a king.’
Then she sighed, with blue eyes tearful and quivering lips that smiled,
‘And to womanhood's perfection came the promise of the child.
But the rose and cowslip withered, and the poppy's death is nigh,
For the changing leaf that lingers there remains nought but to die.
Through the bitter winds of Winter let me shelter by thy side;
Prithee, stray not with the Autumn, O my love! unsatisfied.’
Sweet the lark his matins singing in the blue sky overhead,
And the languid breeze was perfumed by a rose's stolen breath;
'Twas the last white bud of Summer that escaped the hand of death,
And my sweet, I feared to meet her for my yesterday of scorn;
Then I flung myself beside her as she knelt amid the corn.
She only said: ‘To red and gold grew the green young leaf of Spring.
The rose filled the dead cowslip's throne; now poppy reigns a king.’
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‘And to womanhood's perfection came the promise of the child.
But the rose and cowslip withered, and the poppy's death is nigh,
For the changing leaf that lingers there remains nought but to die.
Through the bitter winds of Winter let me shelter by thy side;
Prithee, stray not with the Autumn, O my love! unsatisfied.’
So I stayed, but soon grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
Of the woods all clad in splendour, rarest red, and gold, and green;
Of the hands that toiling for me pressed the red juice from the vine,
And brought the fragrant peaches that I might not trouble mine;
Of the fawn-like eyes that watched me, ever speaking of their love;
Of the neck I once thought softer than the white breast of a dove.
So I rose up from my resting ere the Autumn days were dead,
And the oak, and beech, and chestnut had not yet their bright leaves shed;
While the birds were singing gaily from their shelter in the thorn,
Still the sleep-bestowing poppies lit their red lamps in the corn.
Of the woods all clad in splendour, rarest red, and gold, and green;
Of the hands that toiling for me pressed the red juice from the vine,
And brought the fragrant peaches that I might not trouble mine;
Of the fawn-like eyes that watched me, ever speaking of their love;
Of the neck I once thought softer than the white breast of a dove.
So I rose up from my resting ere the Autumn days were dead,
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While the birds were singing gaily from their shelter in the thorn,
Still the sleep-bestowing poppies lit their red lamps in the corn.
I sought my love in the Winter, for I sorrowed for the past,
And in the long nights of thinking I knew my own heart at last;
That mine were the imperfections that I seemed in her to find,
That happiness ever beside me made me to sorrow grow blind,
How I of God's gifts grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
That to-day sighs for to-morrow, then to weep for what had been.
She was sleeping when I found her, O my love! in one hand lay
Spring's young buds and Summer roses with their fair bloom passed away;
But the poison-breathing poppy on her lip was lying red,
Ah! the sleep-bestowing poppy had left me but the dead;
The calm eyes gazing heavenwards could not see the love mine bore,
And the pale brow 'neath my kisses still its marble colour wore;
Till the snow that was not whiter hid the silent face from me—
Hid the lips that could not answer and the eyes that could not see.
Flake by flake came down and hid her from the cold sky overhead.
Thus, having all, I lost all, ere the Winter days had fled.
And in the long nights of thinking I knew my own heart at last;
That mine were the imperfections that I seemed in her to find,
That happiness ever beside me made me to sorrow grow blind,
How I of God's gifts grew weary—man's discontent, I ween—
That to-day sighs for to-morrow, then to weep for what had been.
She was sleeping when I found her, O my love! in one hand lay
Spring's young buds and Summer roses with their fair bloom passed away;
But the poison-breathing poppy on her lip was lying red,
Ah! the sleep-bestowing poppy had left me but the dead;
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And the pale brow 'neath my kisses still its marble colour wore;
Till the snow that was not whiter hid the silent face from me—
Hid the lips that could not answer and the eyes that could not see.
Flake by flake came down and hid her from the cold sky overhead.
Thus, having all, I lost all, ere the Winter days had fled.
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DAISIES.
Blossomed too soon, little daisies of Spring!
Leaving the sheltering arms of the earth,
The white tears of Winter unshed in the sky,
And weary-eyed Sorrow to welcome your birth.
Leaving the sheltering arms of the earth,
The white tears of Winter unshed in the sky,
And weary-eyed Sorrow to welcome your birth.
See, 'twas cold Winter that woke you from sleep,
Breathed upon you with Summer's warm breath,
Kissed your eyes open with lips of the Spring,
Waked you too early—to winter and death.
Breathed upon you with Summer's warm breath,
Kissed your eyes open with lips of the Spring,
Waked you too early—to winter and death.
Where is the promise he whispered to you—
The warmth of the sunshine, the cool of the breeze,
The perfume of thorns all heavy with bloom,
The linnet's sweet song from his shade in the trees?
The warmth of the sunshine, the cool of the breeze,
The perfume of thorns all heavy with bloom,
The linnet's sweet song from his shade in the trees?
Bird-songs are silent, and branches are bare;
The snow makes a crown on the heights of the hill;
And your stricken blossoms lie crushed on the ground,
For the warm breath that wooed you to life groweth chill.
The snow makes a crown on the heights of the hill;
And your stricken blossoms lie crushed on the ground,
For the warm breath that wooed you to life groweth chill.
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Cover, white snowflakes, the spot where they lie,
Scarce living the length of a winter's short noon.
Oh! cover them whitely that no one may find
The grave of my daisies that blossomed too soon.
Scarce living the length of a winter's short noon.
Oh! cover them whitely that no one may find
The grave of my daisies that blossomed too soon.
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THE HIGHWAY TO FAME.
In every man this world doth hold
Two selves are cast in that human mould.
If he hearken but to the voice of one,
Then heaven is his when his work is done;
But if to the other his ear doth turn,
Despair in his heart shall for ever burn.
Two selves are cast in that human mould.
If he hearken but to the voice of one,
Then heaven is his when his work is done;
But if to the other his ear doth turn,
Despair in his heart shall for ever burn.
I and my other self one day
Woke from sleep on the world's highway.
Women and men bore us company,
But never a child did I chance to see.
I pitied young faces so pale and wan
I saw in the crowd, as we hurried on.
I pitied old faces, so eager they
Lest they be last on the great highway.
Another road we have met at last—
We paused a moment ere it we passed.
Few turned their feet the strange road upon,
Though the way was fair God's sun shone on.
The path was rough, but the hedges' bloom
Sent forth a sweet and a rare perfume.
If the thorns wounded your naked feet,
The birds' songs were in your ear full sweet.
Did you close your eyes in black despair,
You oped on the hills—and God was there.
Did you weep with fear when the night came on,
The face of Hope in the darkness shone.
‘O stay,’ I cried, ‘for a moment stay—
Till I pluck from the hedge a wild-rose spray.
Hark, the sweet birds! For a moment stay—
No song I hear on the world's highway,
But cries of women and men alway.’
Woke from sleep on the world's highway.
Women and men bore us company,
But never a child did I chance to see.
I pitied young faces so pale and wan
I saw in the crowd, as we hurried on.
I pitied old faces, so eager they
Lest they be last on the great highway.
Another road we have met at last—
We paused a moment ere it we passed.
Few turned their feet the strange road upon,
Though the way was fair God's sun shone on.
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Sent forth a sweet and a rare perfume.
If the thorns wounded your naked feet,
The birds' songs were in your ear full sweet.
Did you close your eyes in black despair,
You oped on the hills—and God was there.
Did you weep with fear when the night came on,
The face of Hope in the darkness shone.
‘O stay,’ I cried, ‘for a moment stay—
Till I pluck from the hedge a wild-rose spray.
Hark, the sweet birds! For a moment stay—
No song I hear on the world's highway,
But cries of women and men alway.’
My other self thus replied to me:
‘Then the hill of Fame you will never see,
Nor hear the songs so wondrous there’—
And I passed the road that I deemed so fair.
Suspicion, envy, and jealousy,
I oft in my neighbours' eyes could see.
Alas! in my heart the serpent grew—
I smiled lest others should see it too.
A woman staggered, and falling cried
As I paused a moment by her side:
‘Too late, too late! I am lost for aye,
I have passed God's road on the great highway.
I have missed the treasure that lies before,
And glimpse of Heaven I'll see no more.’
I laid my hand her cold brow upon,
But my other self in my ear said: ‘On!
For those behind will help her through.’
I stepped in her place, but that cry I knew
Was the last she gave, ere she silent lay
'Neath the cruel feet on the great highway.
‘Then the hill of Fame you will never see,
Nor hear the songs so wondrous there’—
And I passed the road that I deemed so fair.
Suspicion, envy, and jealousy,
I oft in my neighbours' eyes could see.
Alas! in my heart the serpent grew—
I smiled lest others should see it too.
A woman staggered, and falling cried
As I paused a moment by her side:
‘Too late, too late! I am lost for aye,
I have passed God's road on the great highway.
I have missed the treasure that lies before,
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I laid my hand her cold brow upon,
But my other self in my ear said: ‘On!
For those behind will help her through.’
I stepped in her place, but that cry I knew
Was the last she gave, ere she silent lay
'Neath the cruel feet on the great highway.
A cottage door, as we passed, stood wide;
A mother sat with her babe inside,
And her eyes beamed love as she kissed the child,
That raised its arms in its sleep and smiled:
In the fields that bordered the great highway
Children dropped, as we passed, their play.
I raised a bright guinea for them to see—
A golden king-cup they held to me.
A sapphire's gleam from my finger fell—
They gathered a bunch of the blue speedwell.
A string of pearls I raised again—
Laughing, they turned to their daisy chain.
A youth and a maiden I next did see;
I cried in my heart, ‘He will envy me.’
He smiled as he kissed the white hand that lay
In his, and I sighed on the great highway.
Is it worth all I lose and I leave behind,
That treasure I seek, which I may not find?
I saw a man in my path, and he
Stood still as we came, and he looked at me.
Oh, sorrow's home was that face divine;
Oh, the infinite love as his eyes met mine!
An oaken cross on his shoulders lay—
I paused a moment, then turned away,
For my other self thus had cried to me:
‘'Tis but a phantom you chance to see.
Look! Even now it has ceased to stay
'Neath the hurrying feet on the great highway.’
A mother sat with her babe inside,
And her eyes beamed love as she kissed the child,
That raised its arms in its sleep and smiled:
In the fields that bordered the great highway
Children dropped, as we passed, their play.
I raised a bright guinea for them to see—
A golden king-cup they held to me.
A sapphire's gleam from my finger fell—
They gathered a bunch of the blue speedwell.
A string of pearls I raised again—
Laughing, they turned to their daisy chain.
A youth and a maiden I next did see;
I cried in my heart, ‘He will envy me.’
He smiled as he kissed the white hand that lay
In his, and I sighed on the great highway.
Is it worth all I lose and I leave behind,
That treasure I seek, which I may not find?
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Stood still as we came, and he looked at me.
Oh, sorrow's home was that face divine;
Oh, the infinite love as his eyes met mine!
An oaken cross on his shoulders lay—
I paused a moment, then turned away,
For my other self thus had cried to me:
‘'Tis but a phantom you chance to see.
Look! Even now it has ceased to stay
'Neath the hurrying feet on the great highway.’
So I was first in the weary race,
As, aged and worn, we toiled apace.
Each man bowed low at my feet and came
To crown me king on the Hill of Fame,
And king of them all I reigned alone,
Yet I shuddered oft on my golden throne.
The ground had grown not earth nor stones,
For the hill was raised of dead men's bones.
I fear my subject's untiring praise,
For his hand the while with his dagger plays.
My other self whispers: ‘O joy! for see,
Men and women all worship thee.
Thy flattered ear to their praise incline;
Endless glory and wealth are thine;
Such fame, such worship, no man hath known.’
As, aged and worn, we toiled apace.
Each man bowed low at my feet and came
To crown me king on the Hill of Fame,
And king of them all I reigned alone,
Yet I shuddered oft on my golden throne.
The ground had grown not earth nor stones,
For the hill was raised of dead men's bones.
I fear my subject's untiring praise,
For his hand the while with his dagger plays.
My other self whispers: ‘O joy! for see,
Men and women all worship thee.
Thy flattered ear to their praise incline;
Endless glory and wealth are thine;
Such fame, such worship, no man hath known.’
Ah me! I sigh on my golden throne.
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A CHANGELING.
My Future lay cradled asleep;
I kissed the sweet mouth and she smiled
With a promise of all she should be,
Womanhood crowning the child—
I kissed the sweet mouth and she smiled
With a promise of all she should be,
Womanhood crowning the child—
Her wings that would grow with her growth,
Till they bore her to heaven at last;
When she queened in the world awhile,
Then all the sweet mockery past.
Till they bore her to heaven at last;
When she queened in the world awhile,
Then all the sweet mockery past.
So closing my eyes while I dreamt,
Thus praying on her behalf,
I could but think I had slept,
For I woke with an elfin laugh.
Thus praying on her behalf,
I could but think I had slept,
For I woke with an elfin laugh.
What fairy had crept through the door
To leave me this changeling child,
Who looked on my tears with a laugh,
And mocked at my prayers as she smiled?
To leave me this changeling child,
Who looked on my tears with a laugh,
And mocked at my prayers as she smiled?
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SORROW.
Into my heart, Sorrow, you found a way;
Mine enemy, it was bitter to weep and pray;
I gave you tears for drinking,
And heart-sick sobs,
With brain too sick for thinking,
And to the throbs
Of my sad heart I hushed you till I crushed you
Into rest for all your thorns.
Mine enemy, it was bitter to weep and pray;
I gave you tears for drinking,
And heart-sick sobs,
With brain too sick for thinking,
And to the throbs
Of my sad heart I hushed you till I crushed you
Into rest for all your thorns.
Into my heart, Sorrow, too oft you came;
Mine enemy, I heed not nor dread your name.
Frozen the stream of your quaffing,
And now your rest
Is broken with my laughing.
To my breast
In these mine arms I hush you till I crush you
Into rest for all your thorns.
Mine enemy, I heed not nor dread your name.
Frozen the stream of your quaffing,
And now your rest
Is broken with my laughing.
To my breast
In these mine arms I hush you till I crush you
Into rest for all your thorns.
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MY DARLING.
My darling laughed in the dawning,
And the birds perched low to hear.
The quick sprung anew from dead ashes
That Spring's passing feet had flung clear.
Oh, Life came over the meadows,
And the song of her coming was sweet;
The streams leaped joy-mad down the mountains,
Flowers bloomed 'neath her dawning feet.
The trees bent their branches fruit-laden,
So low as her soft hands' hold;
And the harvest rose up like an army
Of kings in their harness of gold.
Oh, Life came over the meadows
From her home behind the sun;
No mind could guess whence her being,
Where she went when her work was done.
As she danced, danced Death the cold shadow
That was cast by her body so fair.
My darling laughed in the dawning,
Life's hand on her sunny hair.
And the birds perched low to hear.
The quick sprung anew from dead ashes
That Spring's passing feet had flung clear.
Oh, Life came over the meadows,
And the song of her coming was sweet;
The streams leaped joy-mad down the mountains,
Flowers bloomed 'neath her dawning feet.
The trees bent their branches fruit-laden,
So low as her soft hands' hold;
And the harvest rose up like an army
Of kings in their harness of gold.
Oh, Life came over the meadows
From her home behind the sun;
No mind could guess whence her being,
Where she went when her work was done.
As she danced, danced Death the cold shadow
That was cast by her body so fair.
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Life's hand on her sunny hair.
My darling slept in the dawning,
Then came to my heart a fear;
For peace may be lost in the darkness,
And joy be drowned in a tear.
I whispered: ‘Sleep in the singing,
When the buds are breaking to bloom,
Each branch with its load low-swinging,
Each flower with its faint perfume;
When the world is young with laughter,
Mankind on his throne a king,
When the soul sings of a Hereafter,
And is not ashamed to sing.’
Then Life faded into her shadow,
And Death took her form and was fair.
My darling smiled in her sleeping,
Death's hand on her sunny hair.
Then came to my heart a fear;
For peace may be lost in the darkness,
And joy be drowned in a tear.
I whispered: ‘Sleep in the singing,
When the buds are breaking to bloom,
Each branch with its load low-swinging,
Each flower with its faint perfume;
When the world is young with laughter,
Mankind on his throne a king,
When the soul sings of a Hereafter,
And is not ashamed to sing.’
Then Life faded into her shadow,
And Death took her form and was fair.
My darling smiled in her sleeping,
Death's hand on her sunny hair.
53
ONE DAY IN DECEMBER.
‘Every dog has his day.’
Well, dear, do you remember,
How you and I found a golden day
In the midst of a bleak December?
Well, dear, do you remember,
How you and I found a golden day
In the midst of a bleak December?
You smiled at the chance of our meeting,
I blushed as I turned away,
While our little world stood by in amaze,
With hands upheld in dismay.
I blushed as I turned away,
While our little world stood by in amaze,
With hands upheld in dismay.
We loosed the chain of our little boat,
And each took an oar in hand.
You spoke no word, but you looked at me,
And we rowed for love's sweet land.
And each took an oar in hand.
You spoke no word, but you looked at me,
And we rowed for love's sweet land.
You said, ‘All earth's beauties I see in your face.’
I said, ‘All earth's music you're speaking.’
And the keel of our little craft grated the while
On the silvery strand of our seeking.
I said, ‘All earth's music you're speaking.’
And the keel of our little craft grated the while
On the silvery strand of our seeking.
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You looked at me and I smiled on you—
(O sweet! it was golden weather)—
Then we laughed as the boat glided back from the shore
And we pulled from the land together.
(O sweet! it was golden weather)—
Then we laughed as the boat glided back from the shore
And we pulled from the land together.
For you thought, perhaps, of another face,
And I—let pass, you remember,
Not half we said on that summer's day
We found in a bleak December.
And I—let pass, you remember,
Not half we said on that summer's day
We found in a bleak December.
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A MOTH.
I, like a moth to the candle,
Am chained by a glance from your eye.
If I shun you, the world is in darkness;
If I seek my desire, I die.
Am chained by a glance from your eye.
If I shun you, the world is in darkness;
If I seek my desire, I die.
I hide 'neath the wings of my fancy,
I seek out my room's darkest shade;
Your shining still follows me ever,
Till I fly to my doom unafraid.
I seek out my room's darkest shade;
Your shining still follows me ever,
Till I fly to my doom unafraid.
And yet, in my seeking I shun you,
In shunning I seek for love's sake;
My wings will draw near you, not save me,
Like a bird's 'neath the eye of a snake.
In shunning I seek for love's sake;
My wings will draw near you, not save me,
Like a bird's 'neath the eye of a snake.
Have pity; I watched from my shadow
A brother's wings fall 'neath your touch.
Loved you not the joy of his flitting?
Or is pride's cold victory such
A brother's wings fall 'neath your touch.
Loved you not the joy of his flitting?
Or is pride's cold victory such
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That you laugh as he crawls from your glances,
Or dies in his pain at your feet,
So hopeless, untrusting, despairing,
Now hating the light that was sweet?
Or dies in his pain at your feet,
So hopeless, untrusting, despairing,
Now hating the light that was sweet?
Have pity; a hand in its kindness
Once opened the casement to me,
‘Go forth, foolish fly, for your life's sake,
Go forth! in the night you are free.
Once opened the casement to me,
‘Go forth, foolish fly, for your life's sake,
Go forth! in the night you are free.
‘God's lamps in the Heavens are glowing,
More fair is their lighting than this
That was lit with a spark from man's fingers.
Go forth! lest you die in a kiss.’
More fair is their lighting than this
That was lit with a spark from man's fingers.
Go forth! lest you die in a kiss.’
The light of the stars could not reach me,
The warmth of your flame on my heart,
Too kind in their pity to wall me,
The fingers that saved were apart.
The warmth of your flame on my heart,
Too kind in their pity to wall me,
The fingers that saved were apart.
Have mercy, my life that my death is,
Blind, blind to your shining I fly.
If I shun you, the world is in darkness,
If I seek you, God help me! I die.
Blind, blind to your shining I fly.
If I shun you, the world is in darkness,
If I seek you, God help me! I die.
66
A MISUNDERSTANDING.
I crave of you pardon to-day,
Yesterday I was mad when I spoke;
But the dream of our friendship was fair,
And my heart seemed to die when I woke.
Yesterday I was mad when I spoke;
But the dream of our friendship was fair,
And my heart seemed to die when I woke.
I forgot when the fair image grew
Till a goddess's beauty it bore,
That the beautiful moulding was mine,
The clay was but clay as before.
Till a goddess's beauty it bore,
That the beautiful moulding was mine,
The clay was but clay as before.
I slept by a fountain one eve,
And thirsting awakened to drink;
But the waters I dreamt of were gone,
The young grass lay dead on the brink.
And thirsting awakened to drink;
But the waters I dreamt of were gone,
The young grass lay dead on the brink.
Did I think that the sun of to-day
Would shine out to-morrow as fair?
Did I vow this sweet breeze would return,
That now lifts with soft fingers my hair?
Would shine out to-morrow as fair?
Did I vow this sweet breeze would return,
That now lifts with soft fingers my hair?
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Then I were a fool so to dream:
So, friend, grant your pardon to me.
She I loved and I lost was not you,
But what I had wished you to be.
So, friend, grant your pardon to me.
She I loved and I lost was not you,
But what I had wished you to be.
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WHAT WE MUST DO.
What we must do and may not do.
This is the World's whole refrain,
Till beating on the wearied brain,
We wonder what is true.
This is the World's whole refrain,
Till beating on the wearied brain,
We wonder what is true.
My love! my love! who passes by,
As Fate hath willed ere we were born,
Could I but face the people's scorn,
And tell my love, or die.
As Fate hath willed ere we were born,
Could I but face the people's scorn,
And tell my love, or die.
But this is not a woman's part,
A careless brow you dare to show;
She smiles upon you as you go,
To hide a breaking heart.
A careless brow you dare to show;
She smiles upon you as you go,
To hide a breaking heart.
My friend did take my hand to-day,
Light kisses laid upon my face;
My sad reproach was in its place—
She could not tell me Nay!
Light kisses laid upon my face;
My sad reproach was in its place—
She could not tell me Nay!
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How poor we are with all our laws
Of ever-changing form and dress!
The world becomes a weariness,
Life's current choked with straws.
Of ever-changing form and dress!
The world becomes a weariness,
Life's current choked with straws.
I sometimes think the brain more wise
Where madness reason hath out-thrown,
And gave the fool a life his own,
That had no guilt in lies—
Where madness reason hath out-thrown,
And gave the fool a life his own,
That had no guilt in lies—
Than we, who claim to Reason's rule
And chain our freedom ruthlessly,
Not to what is, but what must be—
Forever in a school.
And chain our freedom ruthlessly,
Not to what is, but what must be—
Forever in a school.
The ox, the ass, 'neath Nature's dome,
Follow His teachings without strife;
And yet they reach the heights of life,
And bring their harvest home.
Follow His teachings without strife;
And yet they reach the heights of life,
And bring their harvest home.
I ask, O World, a wider sight
For men, that they to see be strong—
Your little wrongs that are not wrong,
Your little rights that are not right.
For men, that they to see be strong—
Your little wrongs that are not wrong,
Your little rights that are not right.
There's not so much sin here below
As petty fashions make believe;
Yet so the world's sad eyes deceive—
Sin is much greater than they know.
As petty fashions make believe;
Yet so the world's sad eyes deceive—
Sin is much greater than they know.
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WEARY
Here, in the silent churchyard, 'mid a thousand dead, alone,
Weary I sit for a moment clasping this cross of stone,
Weary of worldly passions of selfishness, greed, and sin.
Grant me the shade of thy wings, O Death, for I would rest within,
Weary of smiling faces when the heart is like to break,
Of lips that are too silent when they long the while to speak,
Of tears that fall from eyes too young, of quivering lips that laugh,
Of the ceaseless clatter of tongues, who plead in none save their own behalf.
Weary I sit for a moment clasping this cross of stone,
Weary of worldly passions of selfishness, greed, and sin.
Grant me the shade of thy wings, O Death, for I would rest within,
Weary of smiling faces when the heart is like to break,
Of lips that are too silent when they long the while to speak,
Of tears that fall from eyes too young, of quivering lips that laugh,
Of the ceaseless clatter of tongues, who plead in none save their own behalf.
O desolate grave beside me, by pity and love forgot,
The calm eyes of peace watch o'er you—I hunger for such a spot;
The tender sprays of ivy, that clung to your cross alone,
Have died in the spring of their living, and turned like it to stone;
So trusting, believing, and loving, these foolish dreams of a child,
I dreamt of the joy of living in a world so undefiled.
Ah! blighted my hope's young promise by that same cold world's breath.
I am weary; grant me the shade of thy wings, that I may rest, O Death!
The calm eyes of peace watch o'er you—I hunger for such a spot;
The tender sprays of ivy, that clung to your cross alone,
Have died in the spring of their living, and turned like it to stone;
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I dreamt of the joy of living in a world so undefiled.
Ah! blighted my hope's young promise by that same cold world's breath.
I am weary; grant me the shade of thy wings, that I may rest, O Death!
Weave wreaths of Truth's fair blossoms for my home when my lips are mute.
I gathered its rosy apples and found them but Dead Sea fruit,
And take from the world's garden my flowers that Hope planted there,
That, turning to weeds in their growing, were culled by the hand of Despair.
Weary of worldly sorrows, of longings unfilled and regret,
Grant me the shade of your wings, O Peace! that I may sleep and forget.
I gathered its rosy apples and found them but Dead Sea fruit,
And take from the world's garden my flowers that Hope planted there,
That, turning to weeds in their growing, were culled by the hand of Despair.
Weary of worldly sorrows, of longings unfilled and regret,
Grant me the shade of your wings, O Peace! that I may sleep and forget.
121
GRAY EYES.
Sitting alone in my room,
Alone in the gathering gloom,
Solitude in the rest of the tomb.
While the drip, drip, drip of the rain,
Like tears that are falling in vain
For a loss that is gone past regain,
Falls soft on the window-pane
Of my room.
Alone in the gathering gloom,
Solitude in the rest of the tomb.
While the drip, drip, drip of the rain,
Like tears that are falling in vain
For a loss that is gone past regain,
Falls soft on the window-pane
Of my room.
Alone, alone, alone,
And no one to hear my moan
In the world's great heart of stone;
Only poverty that wakes disgust,
Only promises light as dust,
And nought that is true or just,
Cold hearts that you cannot trust—
Alone.
And no one to hear my moan
In the world's great heart of stone;
Only poverty that wakes disgust,
Only promises light as dust,
And nought that is true or just,
Cold hearts that you cannot trust—
Alone.
Weary of hopes that fade,
Of a life that is one long shade
Of joys that bloom decayed,
Fall cool on my heart, O rain,
Till you soften this bitter pain,
This ice that doth it enchain—
Oh, let it once hope again,
Or fade.
Of a life that is one long shade
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Fall cool on my heart, O rain,
Till you soften this bitter pain,
This ice that doth it enchain—
Oh, let it once hope again,
Or fade.
Ye who in the crowd pass by,
Not giving a glance or a sigh,
Not heeding my lonely cry,
Oh, pause, and say, ere you go,
Is there love in that world you know?
You have caused me all my woe,
Gray eyes, gray eyes, ah! so
Pass by.
Not giving a glance or a sigh,
Not heeding my lonely cry,
Oh, pause, and say, ere you go,
Is there love in that world you know?
You have caused me all my woe,
Gray eyes, gray eyes, ah! so
Pass by.
123
IN SOUTHERN SEAS.
In southern seas we sailed, my love and I,
In southern seas.
Death joined no chorus as the waves swept by,
No storm hid in the breeze.
Low keeled our boat until her white wings dipped half wet with spray,
And seeking gulls tossed on the passing wave laughed on our way,
The rhyme of sound, the harmony of souls—of silence, too;
Your silence held my thoughts, my love, as mine of you;
The wingèd whispering wind that blew our sails was summer sweet—
I found my long-sought paradise crouched at thy feet.
In southern seas.
Death joined no chorus as the waves swept by,
No storm hid in the breeze.
Low keeled our boat until her white wings dipped half wet with spray,
And seeking gulls tossed on the passing wave laughed on our way,
The rhyme of sound, the harmony of souls—of silence, too;
Your silence held my thoughts, my love, as mine of you;
The wingèd whispering wind that blew our sails was summer sweet—
I found my long-sought paradise crouched at thy feet.
In northern seas I weep alone, alone,
In winter seas.
Death's hounds are on the waves, with many moans
Death's voice comes with the breeze;
My helpless boat, rocked in the wind, obeys no steadfast hand,
Her swinging helm and lashing sheet have lost my weak command;
The shrieking sea-birds seek the sheltering shore,
The writhing waves leap upward, and their hoar
Strong hands tear at the timbers of my shuddering craft.
I cry in vain, the Fates have seen and laughed,
Time and the world have stormed my summer sea—
I ate my fruit, the serpent held the tree.
In winter seas.
Death's hounds are on the waves, with many moans
Death's voice comes with the breeze;
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Her swinging helm and lashing sheet have lost my weak command;
The shrieking sea-birds seek the sheltering shore,
The writhing waves leap upward, and their hoar
Strong hands tear at the timbers of my shuddering craft.
I cry in vain, the Fates have seen and laughed,
Time and the world have stormed my summer sea—
I ate my fruit, the serpent held the tree.
| Verses (1893) | |