 | Lauds |  |
9
ROSA MYSTICA
This rose so exquisite,
So perfect, so complete,
Beauty beyond all price,
With the hour it dies.
So perfect, so complete,
Beauty beyond all price,
With the hour it dies.
God makes Him roses fast,
With such magnificent haste,
Multitudes, multitudes
In gardens, fields, and woods.
With such magnificent haste,
Multitudes, multitudes
In gardens, fields, and woods.
The roses tell His praise
Their little length of days;
Testify to His name
Gold on gold, flame on flame.
Their little length of days;
Testify to His name
Gold on gold, flame on flame.
They are scarce here, scarce blown
But they are gone, are flown;
The gardener's broom must sweep them
And in the darkness heap them.
But they are gone, are flown;
The gardener's broom must sweep them
And in the darkness heap them.
Drift of rose-leaves upon
The garden-bed, the lawn:
The exquisite thought of God
Is scattered, wasted abroad.
The garden-bed, the lawn:
The exquisite thought of God
Is scattered, wasted abroad.
10
What of the soul of the rose?
It shall not die with those.
It shall wake, shall live again
In God's rose-garden.
It shall not die with those.
It shall wake, shall live again
In God's rose-garden.
It shall climb rose-trellises
Before God's palaces.
The Eternal Rose shall cover
The House of God all over.
Before God's palaces.
The Eternal Rose shall cover
The House of God all over.
She shall breathe out her soul
And yet living, made whole,
Shall offer her oblation
Out of her purest passion.
And yet living, made whole,
Shall offer her oblation
Out of her purest passion.
She shall know all bliss
Where God's garden is:
The rose drinking her fill is
Of joy with her sister lilies.
Where God's garden is:
The rose drinking her fill is
Of joy with her sister lilies.
Where the Water of Life sweet
Bathes her from head to feet
The River of Life flows—
There is the Rose.
Bathes her from head to feet
The River of Life flows—
There is the Rose.
11
LAD'S LOVE
Lad's Love in the garden,
Grey as a thorn.
Love, an you will not love me,
Better I was not born.
Grey as a thorn.
Love, an you will not love me,
Better I was not born.
Lad's Love in the garden
Takes not the eye.
Love, an you will not love me,
Better that I should die.
Takes not the eye.
Love, an you will not love me,
Better that I should die.
Lad's Love in the garden,
Dull in the heat.
But ill-use me, bruise me,
And I am sweetest sweet.
Dull in the heat.
But ill-use me, bruise me,
And I am sweetest sweet.
Lad's Love in the garden,
Delicate feet beneath.
I am sweet in dying,
Sweetest in death.
Delicate feet beneath.
I am sweet in dying,
Sweetest in death.
12
CANDLEMAS DAY
I heard the lark sing in the dark before the sun was risen
Hark the lark that sings in the dark to call the flowers from prison
While the world lay still and grey before the sun's adoring
I heard the lark o' Candlemas Day, Candlemas Day in the morning.
Hark the lark that sings in the dark to call the flowers from prison
While the world lay still and grey before the sun's adoring
I heard the lark o' Candlemas Day, Candlemas Day in the morning.
Soon will come the blackbirds all and soon will come the thrushes
Linnets flute and finches call and green upon the bushes
February's dappled sky, grey as a wild gull's feather
Hales the sleepy-heads fro' their beds and calls the choir together
Linnets flute and finches call and green upon the bushes
February's dappled sky, grey as a wild gull's feather
Hales the sleepy-heads fro' their beds and calls the choir together
O and ho, the daffodil within the orchard closes,
Windflowers dancing on the hill and drifts of pale primroses
O and ho, the blackthorn snow and after it the cherry
Whitening every vale and hill when all the [illeg.] are merry
Windflowers dancing on the hill and drifts of pale primroses
O and ho, the blackthorn snow and after it the cherry
Whitening every vale and hill when all the [illeg.] are merry
13
Soon will come the nightingale and soon will come the swallow,
May be pale in every vale and the wild rose to follow.
To the prodigal time be here with sweets poured out and wasted,
How, my dear, 's the sweet o' the year with blisses yet untasted.
May be pale in every vale and the wild rose to follow.
To the prodigal time be here with sweets poured out and wasted,
How, my dear, 's the sweet o' the year with blisses yet untasted.
I heard the lark spring in the dark before the dawn's grey sandals,
Before the crocus held a spark to light the blessed candles.
The snowdrop's bell rang a soft peal to give the good folk warning;
And the lark was clerk that sang i' the dark Candlemas Day in the morning.
Before the crocus held a spark to light the blessed candles.
The snowdrop's bell rang a soft peal to give the good folk warning;
And the lark was clerk that sang i' the dark Candlemas Day in the morning.
14
ALL PASSES
Sweet, sweet, the lusty thrush
Sings in the evening hush:
Summer is come at last;
The grey day's over and past;
Better for birds and men.
Sings in the evening hush:
Summer is come at last;
The grey day's over and past;
Better for birds and men.
So long the East wind stayed,
So long the rose delayed,
That now 'tis midsummer
When songs must die, my dear,
And silence come again.
So long the rose delayed,
That now 'tis midsummer
When songs must die, my dear,
And silence come again.
Sing, thrush, while yet you may,
You have so brief a day,
You and the rose new-blown;
You are scarce here, you are flown;
The silence aches and stings.
You have so brief a day,
You and the rose new-blown;
You are scarce here, you are flown;
The silence aches and stings.
The rose you waited for
Is here, sweet as of yore;
And sweet's the hour and sweet
The day's long golden heat:
Alack, that songs have wings!
Is here, sweet as of yore;
And sweet's the hour and sweet
The day's long golden heat:
Alack, that songs have wings!
15
THE NEWLY DEAD
She only died last week and yet
Suns might have risen, suns have set
A thousand: May's here like a bride,
And it was May when Mary died.
Suns might have risen, suns have set
A thousand: May's here like a bride,
And it was May when Mary died.
Incredible! We might last week
Have kissed her, praised her, heard her speak,
Who now has travelled far, so far
Beyond the moon and the day-star.
Have kissed her, praised her, heard her speak,
Who now has travelled far, so far
Beyond the moon and the day-star.
Since she has gone all Time and Space
Have lost their meanings. Mary's face
Grows dim in distance; like a light
Far down a distance infinite.
Have lost their meanings. Mary's face
Grows dim in distance; like a light
Far down a distance infinite.
Last week! Why this new grief we have
Is old as Time, old as the grave;
It was and will be; darkness spread
Over the world since Mary's dead.
Is old as Time, old as the grave;
It was and will be; darkness spread
Over the world since Mary's dead.
16
Last week she died. The lilac-bough
Her eyes watched bud is blooming now;
The chesnut's lit her lamp since then;
And the lost cuckoo's come again.
Her eyes watched bud is blooming now;
The chesnut's lit her lamp since then;
And the lost cuckoo's come again.
A week ago! O endless space,
Since Mary heavenward turned her face!
And still the lilac's on the spray
That budded when she went away.
Since Mary heavenward turned her face!
And still the lilac's on the spray
That budded when she went away.
17
THE RETURN
I rested in your easy chair,
Slept in your late-abandoned bed,
And felt your pleasure everywhere
A benediction on my head,
Through sleep and waking: all the while
I was quite sure I felt your smile.
Slept in your late-abandoned bed,
And felt your pleasure everywhere
A benediction on my head,
Through sleep and waking: all the while
I was quite sure I felt your smile.
I knelt and laid my cheek upon
The cushions that you lately pressed;
All your familiar things foregone
Took to my own use and behest,
Quite sure your spirit leant to bless
Your daughter in that loneliness.
The cushions that you lately pressed;
All your familiar things foregone
Took to my own use and behest,
Quite sure your spirit leant to bless
Your daughter in that loneliness.
I sat beside your fire aglow,
In the dim hours 'twixt night and day,
And knew you would be glad to know—
You who gave everything away—
I had your old room, sweet and warm,
Safe from the winter night and storm.
In the dim hours 'twixt night and day,
And knew you would be glad to know—
You who gave everything away—
I had your old room, sweet and warm,
Safe from the winter night and storm.
18
I slept, I rose, I rested there;
My thoughts, my dreams, were still and glad
The dear room kept its happy air
As in the golden years we had;
And sleeping, waking, all the while,
I was quite sure I felt your smile.
My thoughts, my dreams, were still and glad
The dear room kept its happy air
As in the golden years we had;
And sleeping, waking, all the while,
I was quite sure I felt your smile.
19
AT EASTER
After three days were over
The Lord new-risen was.
O Thou, of men the lover,
Bring all men to this pass!
The Lord new-risen was.
O Thou, of men the lover,
Bring all men to this pass!
Thou who wast dead yet risen,
Remember these and those:
Bring all men out of prison
Who died with Thee, nor rose.
Remember these and those:
Bring all men out of prison
Who died with Thee, nor rose.
Because that Thou, Lord Jesus,
Rose splendid after death,
Oh, pity us and ease us,
Who die with every breath!
Rose splendid after death,
Oh, pity us and ease us,
Who die with every breath!
Because for all our yearning
These come not to our cry:
Since there is no returning
And since that we must die,
These come not to our cry:
Since there is no returning
And since that we must die,
20
Lord Jesus, who has won us,
Pity Thy helpless folk;
Yea, lay Thy staff upon us,
Thy mercy as a cloak.
Pity Thy helpless folk;
Yea, lay Thy staff upon us,
Thy mercy as a cloak.
Thou who didst die before us,
Thy three days quickly sped,
Dear Lord, be sorry for us
Who rise not from the dead.
Thy three days quickly sped,
Dear Lord, be sorry for us
Who rise not from the dead.
21
THE WAY TO HEAVEN
“Is there a road to Heaven, a road?
And what name do they call it, say?”
“O child, I think its name is God,
The Way, the Light upon the Way.”
And what name do they call it, say?”
“O child, I think its name is God,
The Way, the Light upon the Way.”
“And may I take that heavenly road?”
“Child of my love, you surely may,
Though blood and thorns bedew the sod,
And steep the way as Calvary's way.”
“Child of my love, you surely may,
Though blood and thorns bedew the sod,
And steep the way as Calvary's way.”
“When may I take that thorny road?”
“To-morrow? “And why not to-day?”
His feet on flowers have only trod,
Such rosy feet for the hard way.
“To-morrow? “And why not to-day?”
His feet on flowers have only trod,
Such rosy feet for the hard way.
“O mother, let me take the road.”
“Child, are you tired so soon of play?
Steep is the hill and heavy the load
Upon the Way of Life, the Way.”
“Child, are you tired so soon of play?
Steep is the hill and heavy the load
Upon the Way of Life, the Way.”
22
Yet still he cries to take the road,
And I, I dare not say him nay—
Though sharp the flints, cruel the goad
Upon the Way of Life, the Way.
And I, I dare not say him nay—
Though sharp the flints, cruel the goad
Upon the Way of Life, the Way.
O child, God-speed you on the road!
O little feet, so loth to stay,
Run on the road to Heaven that's God,
The Way, the Light upon the Way!
O little feet, so loth to stay,
Run on the road to Heaven that's God,
The Way, the Light upon the Way!
23
THRESHING
Now from the dawn to gloaming
The threshing is not done.
Hark to the busy humming
From rise to set of sun!
The threshing is not done.
Hark to the busy humming
From rise to set of sun!
The mills call to each other
From hidden vale and hill:
“What of the gleaning, brother?”
“Brother, it is not ill.”
From hidden vale and hill:
“What of the gleaning, brother?”
“Brother, it is not ill.”
The mills call to each other
From golden farm to farm.
Deep in the gathered fodder
The kine stand and are warm.
From golden farm to farm.
Deep in the gathered fodder
The kine stand and are warm.
The mills call to each other
Gold-sunken to the knees.
All in a flurry and pother
Late birds fly over-seas.
Gold-sunken to the knees.
All in a flurry and pother
Late birds fly over-seas.
24
Are scarlet horsemen going
The yellowing boughs among.
Hark to the horn wild-blowing!
The pleasant hounds give tongue.
The yellowing boughs among.
Hark to the horn wild-blowing!
The pleasant hounds give tongue.
The mills call to each other
O'er many a stubble field:
“What of the gleaning, brother?”
“Brother, good is the yield.”
O'er many a stubble field:
“What of the gleaning, brother?”
“Brother, good is the yield.”
25
A NIGHT THOUGHT
Now a million nurseries are
Each in sight of Heaven a star,
Bright with fire and candlelight
In the world's else murky night.
Each in sight of Heaven a star,
Bright with fire and candlelight
In the world's else murky night.
In a million little beds
Golden heads are sleepy heads.
Fathers, mothers, leaning look,
One small face their heavenly book.
Golden heads are sleepy heads.
Fathers, mothers, leaning look,
One small face their heavenly book.
Men and women lean above,
Silent in a trance of love;
Sin nor selfishness may come
Straying in this halidom.
Silent in a trance of love;
Sin nor selfishness may come
Straying in this halidom.
Children white and children brown,
In the country, in the town,
In hot deserts, in the cold,
Keep the world from growing old.
In the country, in the town,
In hot deserts, in the cold,
Keep the world from growing old.
Now the mother-Esquimaux
In the ice-fields, by the floe,
Clasps her furry babe from harms,
Rocks all heaven in her arms.
In the ice-fields, by the floe,
Clasps her furry babe from harms,
Rocks all heaven in her arms.
26
Indian mothers sit and sing
To each golden baby thing,—
Some old sleepy song was sung
First when the old world was young.
To each golden baby thing,—
Some old sleepy song was sung
First when the old world was young.
Chinese children, little moons,
Turn life's discords into tunes;
Babies black on Afric's strands
Smile: Time's sands are golden sands.
Turn life's discords into tunes;
Babies black on Afric's strands
Smile: Time's sands are golden sands.
God looks down well pleased to mark
In earth's dusk each rosy spark,
Lights of home and lights of love,
And the child the heart thereof.
In earth's dusk each rosy spark,
Lights of home and lights of love,
And the child the heart thereof.
Parents kneel at evenfall,
And one prayer the prayer of all:
“Strike me if Thou wilt, Thy clod,
So the child goes safe, dear God!”
And one prayer the prayer of all:
“Strike me if Thou wilt, Thy clod,
So the child goes safe, dear God!”
27
THE COUNTRY CHILD
The Country Child has fragrances
He breathes about him as he goes;
Clear eyes that look at distances,
And in his cheek the wilding rose.
He breathes about him as he goes;
Clear eyes that look at distances,
And in his cheek the wilding rose.
The sun, the sun himself will stain
The country face to his own red,
The red-gold of the ripening grain,
And bleach to white the curly head.
The country face to his own red,
The red-gold of the ripening grain,
And bleach to white the curly head.
He rises to the morning lark,
Sleeps with the evening primroses,
Before the curtain of the dark
Lets down its splendour, starred with bees.
Sleeps with the evening primroses,
Before the curtain of the dark
Lets down its splendour, starred with bees.
He sleeps so sweet without a dream,
Under brown cottage eaves and deep;
His window holds one stray moon-beam
As though an angel kept his sleep.
Under brown cottage eaves and deep;
His window holds one stray moon-beam
As though an angel kept his sleep.
28
He feeds on honest country fare,
Drinks the clear water of the spring;
Green carpets wait him everywhere,
Where he may run, where he may sing.
Drinks the clear water of the spring;
Green carpets wait him everywhere,
Where he may run, where he may sing.
He hath his country lore by heart,
And what is friend and what is foe;
Hath conned Dame Nature's book apart,
Her child since he began to grow.
And what is friend and what is foe;
Hath conned Dame Nature's book apart,
Her child since he began to grow.
When he is old, when he goes sad,
Hobbling upon a twisted knee,
He keeps somewhat of joys he had,
Since an old countryman is he.
Hobbling upon a twisted knee,
He keeps somewhat of joys he had,
Since an old countryman is he.
He keeps his childhood's innocencies,
Though his old head be bleached to snow,
Forget-me-nots still hold his eyes,
And in his cheeks old roses blow.
Though his old head be bleached to snow,
Forget-me-nots still hold his eyes,
And in his cheeks old roses blow.
29
BLACKBIRD WEATHER
In the winter bare
It was blackbird weather—
Blackbirds everywhere
Shouted all together.
It was blackbird weather—
Blackbirds everywhere
Shouted all together.
Round the chilly house,
Ere the sun was peeping,
Sang as though to rouse
The hid flowers from sleeping.
Ere the sun was peeping,
Sang as though to rouse
The hid flowers from sleeping.
Blackbirds sang enchanting
In grey garden bowers,
Magical and haunting,
Stirred more than the flowers.
In grey garden bowers,
Magical and haunting,
Stirred more than the flowers.
In the blackbird weather
What strange hopes spring up,
Wild, without a tether,
The strange wonderful hope!
What strange hopes spring up,
Wild, without a tether,
The strange wonderful hope!
30
Hope so often vain,
That no years may kill,
Stabs us once again
With the old exquisite thrill.
That no years may kill,
Stabs us once again
With the old exquisite thrill.
Hope, oft proved a cheat,
Beckons us once more.
With the wild eyes and sweet
We knew so well of yore.
Beckons us once more.
With the wild eyes and sweet
We knew so well of yore.
From a winter tree
Blackbirds sang together,
Of some bliss to be
In the green wonderful weather.
Blackbirds sang together,
Of some bliss to be
In the green wonderful weather.
31
HIS QUESTION
I put my little boy to bed
Rosy, new-bathed, from head to feet.
And what was the strange thing he said
All in the twilight sweet?
Rosy, new-bathed, from head to feet.
And what was the strange thing he said
All in the twilight sweet?
All in the firelight like a rose
We crept together, he and I;
“What will you do,” he whispered close,
“Some day when I shall die?”
We crept together, he and I;
“What will you do,” he whispered close,
“Some day when I shall die?”
“We must all die one day,” he said,
The five-years' darling, sweet and wild.
How did you know, O silken head,
Too wise for any child!
The five-years' darling, sweet and wild.
How did you know, O silken head,
Too wise for any child!
All day, for earth just good enough,
He plays his turbulent, childish part;
At evening in our hour of love
He stabs his mother's heart.
He plays his turbulent, childish part;
At evening in our hour of love
He stabs his mother's heart.
32
With clinging arms about my head,
Between the kisses, close and dear;
“What will you do when I am dead?”
He whispered in my ear.
Between the kisses, close and dear;
“What will you do when I am dead?”
He whispered in my ear.
When you are dead! O dreadful word
That pierced your mother's heart right through!
What would I do, O little Sword,
But die along with you!
That pierced your mother's heart right through!
What would I do, O little Sword,
But die along with you!
33
THE VIGIL
All night the voice of the Wind
That none can hold or bind
Wakes with me. Why are you crying, Wind?
That none can hold or bind
Wakes with me. Why are you crying, Wind?
All night the grieving Rain
Weeps like a heart in pain,
What are they grieving for, Wind and Rain?
Weeps like a heart in pain,
What are they grieving for, Wind and Rain?
All night the sobbing Sea
Fretted, kept watch with me
Awake in the darkness, I and the Sea.
Fretted, kept watch with me
Awake in the darkness, I and the Sea.
All night the Rain and the Wind
And the Sea that none can bind
Watched with me, wept with me, sad and kind.
And the Sea that none can bind
Watched with me, wept with me, sad and kind.
34
WINTER
This is the beautiful time of lying fallow,
The last leaf falls from the delicate trees;
Holy and still, it is the time of All-Hallow:
A million voices are whispering secrecies.
Under the earth's brown breast the seedlings quicken,
Stir in the darkness: Earth is fruitful, conceives.
Under the milky bosom the voices waken:
Ask “Is it time?” in the quiet under the leaves.
The last leaf falls from the delicate trees;
Holy and still, it is the time of All-Hallow:
A million voices are whispering secrecies.
Under the earth's brown breast the seedlings quicken,
Stir in the darkness: Earth is fruitful, conceives.
Under the milky bosom the voices waken:
Ask “Is it time?” in the quiet under the leaves.
These are the days of Death when the Life lies chilly,
Stark in the garden tomb, the death on its eyes.
The world waits in the pauses, solemn and stilly,
Watching the East for the Third Day's dawn in the skies.
There is no death: it is Life that lies in the prison
Stirring under the swaddling-bands and the stone.
The garden waits in a hush till the Sun be risen
With songs of the thrush and the daffodil trumpet blown.
Stark in the garden tomb, the death on its eyes.
The world waits in the pauses, solemn and stilly,
Watching the East for the Third Day's dawn in the skies.
There is no death: it is Life that lies in the prison
Stirring under the swaddling-bands and the stone.
The garden waits in a hush till the Sun be risen
With songs of the thrush and the daffodil trumpet blown.
35
These be the days, grey as a grey gull's feather,
Silent and holy, the finger laid on the lip;
Of stripped exquisite trees and the grey South weather.
She is not dead, God's daughter, she is asleep.
The bare woods are alive with a million voices:
They have shed their leaves on her eyes and covered her face.
The child stirs by her heart: she feels and rejoices
Under the leaves, asleep in the sleeper's place.
Silent and holy, the finger laid on the lip;
Of stripped exquisite trees and the grey South weather.
She is not dead, God's daughter, she is asleep.
The bare woods are alive with a million voices:
They have shed their leaves on her eyes and covered her face.
The child stirs by her heart: she feels and rejoices
Under the leaves, asleep in the sleeper's place.
36
THE ABBOT'S BEES
In the warm garden to and fro
Goes Father Abbot, old and slow,
And reads his breviary, lifting oft
His mild eyes to the blue aloft.
Goes Father Abbot, old and slow,
And reads his breviary, lifting oft
His mild eyes to the blue aloft.
He lays his finger in the page,
Sniffs at the sweets of thyme and sage,
Pauses beside the lavender
Where bees hum in the scented air.
Sniffs at the sweets of thyme and sage,
Pauses beside the lavender
Where bees hum in the scented air.
Close by in the midsummer day
His bearded monks are making hay,
Murmuring as they pass each other,
“Praise be to Jesu!” “Amen, brother!”
His bearded monks are making hay,
Murmuring as they pass each other,
“Praise be to Jesu!” “Amen, brother!”
The bees hum o'er the mignonette
And the white clover, still dew-wet,
And in a velvet troop together
Fly off to rifle the sweet heather.
And the white clover, still dew-wet,
And in a velvet troop together
Fly off to rifle the sweet heather.
The air is full of sleepiness,
The drone of insects and the bees;
The summer day nods unawares
As an old monk might at his prayers.
The drone of insects and the bees;
The summer day nods unawares
As an old monk might at his prayers.
37
The windows of the novitiate
Are open ever early and late;
And hear the voices like the hum
The bees make in the honeycomb!
Are open ever early and late;
And hear the voices like the hum
The bees make in the honeycomb!
The tall lads innocent and meek,
Gabble the Latin and the Greek.
“Now hear my bees in the clover-blooms!”
He saith to the old monk who comes.
Gabble the Latin and the Greek.
“Now hear my bees in the clover-blooms!”
He saith to the old monk who comes.
“Do you not hear them, Brother Giles?”
Listening with sidelong head he smiles.
“Giles, do you hear the novices,
That are the Lord's bees and my bees?
Listening with sidelong head he smiles.
“Giles, do you hear the novices,
That are the Lord's bees and my bees?
“Giles, do you hear them making honey
All through the scented hours and sunny?
They will make honey many a day
When you and I are lapped in clay.”
All through the scented hours and sunny?
They will make honey many a day
When you and I are lapped in clay.”
As though he heard the sweetest strain,
He smiles and listens, smiles again.
Monks in the meadow pass each other:
“Praise be to Jesu!” “Amen, brother.”
He smiles and listens, smiles again.
Monks in the meadow pass each other:
“Praise be to Jesu!” “Amen, brother.”
38
AUGUST
Now is August and the white, golden weather,
Gone the bird notes and the wild hopes together;
Now's fruition after all the sowing;
Over all the songs of all the lovers,
And the red poppies and the honied clovers
And the seas of the meadows ebbing, flowing.
Gone the bird notes and the wild hopes together;
Now's fruition after all the sowing;
Over all the songs of all the lovers,
And the red poppies and the honied clovers
And the seas of the meadows ebbing, flowing.
Sweet it is away from men and cities,
Where the deep greenwood sings its ancient ditties,
On wide moors where the sky is great and spacious;
O'er the hills majestical and hoary,
In deep glens where the brown stream tells its story,
And the grey trout turns in a pool capacious.
Where the deep greenwood sings its ancient ditties,
On wide moors where the sky is great and spacious;
O'er the hills majestical and hoary,
In deep glens where the brown stream tells its story,
And the grey trout turns in a pool capacious.
Now, my dear, once more shall we stray and wander
Hand in hand, take our delight and ponder,
Far away from the city's fret and fever,
How the seasons pass and the sweet roses,
All delights their pauses have and closes,
Only love endures for ever and ever.
Hand in hand, take our delight and ponder,
Far away from the city's fret and fever,
How the seasons pass and the sweet roses,
All delights their pauses have and closes,
Only love endures for ever and ever.
39
Happy now the gleaning man and reaping,
Sweet his food and deep his pleasant sleeping
In his gold-thatched house beside the coppice.
All the day the sun in sweat will bathe him,
But nor grief nor cares can fret nor scathe him
Where Sleep shakes for him her bed of poppies.
Sweet his food and deep his pleasant sleeping
In his gold-thatched house beside the coppice.
All the day the sun in sweat will bathe him,
But nor grief nor cares can fret nor scathe him
Where Sleep shakes for him her bed of poppies.
Better is he than with the townsman's riches.
Deeps and shallows of gold the cornfield stretches.
Better his simple cottage than a palace;
Where all night the harvest moon's above him,
And those angels of God, the sweet stars, love him,
While the wind wanders in the golden valleys.
Deeps and shallows of gold the cornfield stretches.
Better his simple cottage than a palace;
Where all night the harvest moon's above him,
And those angels of God, the sweet stars, love him,
While the wind wanders in the golden valleys.
Where the great dews of harvest drown the barley,
And the brown reapers singing late and early
Fill the solitudes the birds left lonely;
Who would choose the townsman's barren pleasure?
Here where joy's poured out withouten measure
There's no grief except the wood-dove's only.
And the brown reapers singing late and early
Fill the solitudes the birds left lonely;
Who would choose the townsman's barren pleasure?
Here where joy's poured out withouten measure
There's no grief except the wood-dove's only.
40
A TRYST
I kept our tryst alone,
In the sweet April weather,
Sat by your white grave-stone
A whole bright hour together.
In the sweet April weather,
Sat by your white grave-stone
A whole bright hour together.
The birds sang, the wind played,
The dreaming hills were round you.
There in the sun and shade,
I, who had lost you, found you.
The dreaming hills were round you.
There in the sun and shade,
I, who had lost you, found you.
And, oh, my dear, my own,
In the sweet April weather,
Sitting by your grave-stone,
I felt we were together.
In the sweet April weather,
Sitting by your grave-stone,
I felt we were together.
Oh! constant love of old
That never hurt nor harmed me,
There by your grave-stone cold
I sat awhile and warmed me.
That never hurt nor harmed me,
There by your grave-stone cold
I sat awhile and warmed me.
I felt I had stepped in
For a long talk to cheer you,
There by your grave so green
With the blue mountains near you.
For a long talk to cheer you,
There by your grave so green
With the blue mountains near you.
41
There, as I sat awhile
Where the soft South wind passes,
I felt your well-pleased smile
Under the springing grasses.
Where the soft South wind passes,
I felt your well-pleased smile
Under the springing grasses.
And oh! my dear, my dear,
In gold and rainy weather—
My dear, be of good cheer,
We yet shall be together.
In gold and rainy weather—
My dear, be of good cheer,
We yet shall be together.
Such love as ours, dear heart,
No seas shall quench nor water;
Nor time, nor space shall part,
My dear, you and your daughter.
No seas shall quench nor water;
Nor time, nor space shall part,
My dear, you and your daughter.
42
LOVE-IN-A-MIST
Love-in-a-mist, may the angels guide you
Safe from the death and danger beside you,
Lead you home your unlighted path
To the love that's patient and yours till death.
Love-in-a-Mist!
Safe from the death and danger beside you,
Lead you home your unlighted path
To the love that's patient and yours till death.
Love-in-a-Mist!
The way is narrow: your foot unheeding
Close to the edge of the precipice treading.
So many have fallen the way you go,
A thousand feet to the valley below.
Love-in-a-Mist!
Close to the edge of the precipice treading.
So many have fallen the way you go,
A thousand feet to the valley below.
Love-in-a-Mist!
Dark is the night and the mist is blinding,
But the road's still upward, winding and winding;
The stars come out through the night and gloom,
Love sets a light in the windows of home.
Love-in-a-Mist!
But the road's still upward, winding and winding;
The stars come out through the night and gloom,
Love sets a light in the windows of home.
Love-in-a-Mist!
Love-in-a-Mist, may the angels tend you!
The eyes of God look down and befriend you!
There is death in the valley, but up on the hill
The stars are shining, the night is still.
Love-in-a-Mist!
The eyes of God look down and befriend you!
There is death in the valley, but up on the hill
The stars are shining, the night is still.
Love-in-a-Mist!
43
JUNE SONG
To sit in a gold meadow
In a great tree's shadow;
The tide of gold and emerald about your feet;
The hedge bursting to blossom
White as a swan's bosom;
The shadow of leaves upon you, is bliss complete.
In a great tree's shadow;
The tide of gold and emerald about your feet;
The hedge bursting to blossom
White as a swan's bosom;
The shadow of leaves upon you, is bliss complete.
The cuckoo calling nigh you;
The larks springing by you;
Nightingales at noonday, jug-jugging in the grove:
Finches, blackbirds, and thrushes
In all the bowers and bushes,
God knows, this side of Heaven, is heaven enough.
The larks springing by you;
Nightingales at noonday, jug-jugging in the grove:
Finches, blackbirds, and thrushes
In all the bowers and bushes,
God knows, this side of Heaven, is heaven enough.
Woods through the heat-mist glimmer
With silk of the green a-shimmer;
Purple and bronze of the beeches in a sudden stain;
Scent on the wind delicious
From gorse in its golden riches;
Bliss beyond human bearing grows almost pain.
With silk of the green a-shimmer;
Purple and bronze of the beeches in a sudden stain;
Scent on the wind delicious
From gorse in its golden riches;
Bliss beyond human bearing grows almost pain.
44
O you poor folk of cities,
A thousand, thousand pities!
Heaping the fairy gold that withers and dies;
One field in the June weather
Is worth all gold ye gather,
One field in the June weather—one Paradise.
A thousand, thousand pities!
Heaping the fairy gold that withers and dies;
One field in the June weather
Is worth all gold ye gather,
One field in the June weather—one Paradise.
45
THE NEW NEST
How fortunate it was I made
A new nest for my heart before
All the old nests were down, and laid
So low the elm, the sycamore,
A new nest for my heart before
All the old nests were down, and laid
So low the elm, the sycamore,
That held my heart's most secret places,
Wherein I lay so safe and warm!
They are all gone, the beloved faces,
The nests are down in winter storm.
Wherein I lay so safe and warm!
They are all gone, the beloved faces,
The nests are down in winter storm.
How fortunate it was I found
This new nest for my heart to keep
Above the cold floods and the ground;
Though the wind cry and the sky weep!
This new nest for my heart to keep
Above the cold floods and the ground;
Though the wind cry and the sky weep!
What a sad world the world had been,
All the old places hushed and dark,
Had not the new nest called me in,
Cradled my heart as in an ark!
All the old places hushed and dark,
Had not the new nest called me in,
Cradled my heart as in an ark!
Thank God He bids us build with care
A new nest 'gainst the night and rain,
When the old nests are stripped and bare:
There are some will not build again.
A new nest 'gainst the night and rain,
When the old nests are stripped and bare:
There are some will not build again.
46
SWEETS
Yon in the wood's high arches the mist hangs thickest,
The wave of the meadow breaks at my foot and retreats.
Brown breaking to white where the daisies nod;
The red of the sorrel runs to my foot in a flood,
The red of the squirrel's fur where it's smoothest, sleekest,
The Summer air's a-shimmer and heavy with sweets.
The wave of the meadow breaks at my foot and retreats.
Brown breaking to white where the daisies nod;
The red of the sorrel runs to my foot in a flood,
The red of the squirrel's fur where it's smoothest, sleekest,
The Summer air's a-shimmer and heavy with sweets.
Scent of new hay is sweeter than wild bees' honey;
The honeysuckle, the wild rose, hang on the hedge;
The cuckoo's silent, the bee drones in the heat,
The bee's drugged in the honeysuckle—O sweet!
Plunged to the thighs in honey, golden and sunny,
The bee's held in the honey, in a gold cage.
The honeysuckle, the wild rose, hang on the hedge;
The cuckoo's silent, the bee drones in the heat,
The bee's drugged in the honeysuckle—O sweet!
Plunged to the thighs in honey, golden and sunny,
The bee's held in the honey, in a gold cage.
Poised in the mist the lark hangs over the meadow,
There's a sweet wind, a sweet wind out of the West.
The lark's singing his rarest, singing his sweetest.
The year's at the full and the bliss of life is completest.
The wave runs to my feet in foam and in shadow,
The bee's drowned in the honey, plunged to his breast.
There's a sweet wind, a sweet wind out of the West.
The lark's singing his rarest, singing his sweetest.
The year's at the full and the bliss of life is completest.
The wave runs to my feet in foam and in shadow,
The bee's drowned in the honey, plunged to his breast.
47
IN THE COUNTRY
Ah! in the city I hardly missed you,
For you had nothing to do with the city,
You a countryman, bred and born;
Now, in the hay and the springing corn,
My heart's awake, and it's more's the pity;
My heart cries for you night and morn.
For you had nothing to do with the city,
You a countryman, bred and born;
Now, in the hay and the springing corn,
My heart's awake, and it's more's the pity;
My heart cries for you night and morn.
Every grass-blade's a sword to hurt me,
Because you are dead and my heart is grieving:
When I walk in the pleasant weather
Through the corn and over the heather,
I'm thinking if you were only living
And you and I as of old together.
Because you are dead and my heart is grieving:
When I walk in the pleasant weather
Through the corn and over the heather,
I'm thinking if you were only living
And you and I as of old together.
In the city I could forget you;
I did not look for your face in the city.
Now, in the country, at every turning,
I look for you and my heart is yearning.
The blackbird's singing his pleasant ditty,
As in the days that have no returning.
I did not look for your face in the city.
Now, in the country, at every turning,
I look for you and my heart is yearning.
The blackbird's singing his pleasant ditty,
As in the days that have no returning.
48
No one knows how I'm dreaming of you,
Under the moon when the birds are quiet,
Before the larks spring out of the meadow.
The day comes, the day and its shadow.
I wake and remember with the birds' riot;
I know you are dead and my heart's in shadow.
Under the moon when the birds are quiet,
Before the larks spring out of the meadow.
The day comes, the day and its shadow.
I wake and remember with the birds' riot;
I know you are dead and my heart's in shadow.
49
THE BLACKBIRD IN TOWN
In the stone-prisoned tree
The Blackbird sings.
O what felicity
To cage such songs, such wings!
The Blackbird sings.
O what felicity
To cage such songs, such wings!
Betwixt the houses dull,
As in a grove,
The Blackbird beautiful
Sings his wild songs of love.
As in a grove,
The Blackbird beautiful
Sings his wild songs of love.
Nor lacks his inspiration
In the dull scene;
Sounds the last note of passion
Far from the country green.
In the dull scene;
Sounds the last note of passion
Far from the country green.
Nor grieves at all for Flora,
Lapful of flowers;
Nor Hesper nor Aurora
In the wild woodland bowers.
Lapful of flowers;
Nor Hesper nor Aurora
In the wild woodland bowers.
50
He sings at noon, at night,
In stunted boughs.
As 'twere a palace of light,
A gold and emerald house.
In stunted boughs.
As 'twere a palace of light,
A gold and emerald house.
As 'twere the wild wood spacious,
He sings and stays—
Mercy of God most gracious!—
Through the Spring nights and days.
He sings and stays—
Mercy of God most gracious!—
Through the Spring nights and days.
51
ENDINGS
Everything has an ending: there will be
An ending one sad day for you and me.
An ending of the days we had together,
The good companionship all kinds of weather.
The cross-roads yet shall be where we must part,
We who are soul to soul and heart to heart.
An ending one sad day for you and me.
An ending of the days we had together,
The good companionship all kinds of weather.
The cross-roads yet shall be where we must part,
We who are soul to soul and heart to heart.
Then one of us will look back to these days,
These days that now we hold so lightly, praise
So little that we often wish them over.
Oh, our lost country smiling past recover!
How heavenly will it gleam to me, to you,
The lost land where there was not one but two!
These days that now we hold so lightly, praise
So little that we often wish them over.
Oh, our lost country smiling past recover!
How heavenly will it gleam to me, to you,
The lost land where there was not one but two!
The darkness gathers: all things have an end;
Even our days together, lover, friend.
But, oh, my darling, lest we die of grieving,
Let us take hold on comfort, warm and living,
That somewhere past the grave's night and the cold
We two shall be together as of old.
Even our days together, lover, friend.
But, oh, my darling, lest we die of grieving,
Let us take hold on comfort, warm and living,
That somewhere past the grave's night and the cold
We two shall be together as of old.
52
Let us take hold on comfort ere that day
When one of us must go and one must stay;
We two who never could endure being parted.
Let us take hold on comfort, golden-hearted,
That lovers meet at last and clasp and kiss
And there are no more endings where that is.
When one of us must go and one must stay;
We two who never could endure being parted.
Let us take hold on comfort, golden-hearted,
That lovers meet at last and clasp and kiss
And there are no more endings where that is.
53
TWO CAROLS
I. THE FIRST NOWELL
Was the Heaven dark then,
Robbed of its light,
When little Jesus came to men
On a Christmas night?
Robbed of its light,
When little Jesus came to men
On a Christmas night?
Was it dark and dead?
Yea, lonesome to see,
All for the little golden head
That lay on Mary's knee.
Yea, lonesome to see,
All for the little golden head
That lay on Mary's knee.
Certes, Heavenly folk
Fled after Him where
He lay amid the harmless flock
In the stable bare.
Fled after Him where
He lay amid the harmless flock
In the stable bare.
Certes, stars alike
Trooped from the sky,
And when He oped His lovely eyes
Sang Lullaby.
Trooped from the sky,
And when He oped His lovely eyes
Sang Lullaby.
54
Certes, Heaven was dim,
Its lights all fled away,
Yea, Cherubim and Seraphim
Knelt in the hay.
Its lights all fled away,
Yea, Cherubim and Seraphim
Knelt in the hay.
Powers, Principalities,
Archangels in a band,
Before the Baby bent their knees
Kissing His hand.
Archangels in a band,
Before the Baby bent their knees
Kissing His hand.
Who lay so small and soft,
New from His Mother's womb.
Since Heaven was in the cattle's croft
Heaven was in gloom.
New from His Mother's womb.
Since Heaven was in the cattle's croft
Heaven was in gloom.
55
II. ABOUT THE MIDDLE HOUR
About the middle hour of night,
When Northern streamers fly,
Betwixt day-light and candle-light,
Was heard the Babe's first cry.
When Northern streamers fly,
Betwixt day-light and candle-light,
Was heard the Babe's first cry.
The ass said to the ox: Brother,
Right honoured are we twain
Who house the Babe and Babe's Mother
Against the night and rain.
Right honoured are we twain
Who house the Babe and Babe's Mother
Against the night and rain.
The ox him answered: Yea, brother,
Blessed our grass to yield
To bed the Lord and Lord's Mother,
Who else had lain afield.
Blessed our grass to yield
To bed the Lord and Lord's Mother,
Who else had lain afield.
O, what is fast and what is feast
Where such sweet fare is spread?
The Baby at His Mother's breast,
With her dear milk is fed.
Where such sweet fare is spread?
The Baby at His Mother's breast,
With her dear milk is fed.
56
And now: Come kneel with me, brother,
This goodly sight to see.
Before the Child and Child's Mother
The twain have bent the knee.
This goodly sight to see.
Before the Child and Child's Mother
The twain have bent the knee.
And then: Come weep with me, brother,
For stony hearts of men.
For ruth of Babe and Babe's Mother,
Their tears fall down like rain.
For stony hearts of men.
For ruth of Babe and Babe's Mother,
Their tears fall down like rain.
With streamers in the Northern skies,
While Bedlam slept in sin,
The Lord hath opened Paradise
And bade the beasts come in.
While Bedlam slept in sin,
The Lord hath opened Paradise
And bade the beasts come in.
THE END
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