The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

I, having loved thee as none other soul
Can love thee, stand before thy face to-day
And of thy womanhood this boon I pray;
That, as to thee I give myself heart-whole,
Committing self to Love's divine control,
So wilt thou give me—(thought too sweet to say!)—
Love that shall never change or pass away
But deepen onward towards a deathless goal.

Oh change not, if I change not! Let the springs
Of new fair flower and leaf that are to be
Find, ever, only strengthening love in me:
Let nobler gold suffuse love's white first wings:
Oh, love, if this be what my true heart brings
Of love, love, ever love,—then what of thee?

200

I. “LOVE ME WITH THINE EYES’

Yes: love me with thine eyes.—If thy soft lips are dreaming
Far other dreams than ours, yet through thine eyes are gleaming
The dreams my love-songs bring.
If summer's lips are sweet, yet summer's eyes are sweeter.
If summer's hands are swift, yet summer's eyes are fleeter.
In spring's sweet eyes resides the charm of spring.

If only in thine eyes I see thy sweet soul waking,
I am content; content though all my heart be breaking
For very love of thee.
If only in thine eyes I see thy sweet soul glistening,
I am content,—for then I know thy soul is listening.
Let thine eyes love me through eternity.

201

II. “FIGHT ON”

Fight on,—until the noonday sun be dead.
Fight on, until the sun of afternoon
Fade slowly,—till the sun of evening swoon
With blood-shot eyes and smoke-wreaths round his head.
Fight on,—while rises the fierce wrathful red
Disk of the powder-grimed and sword-scarred moon.
Fight on: the army of the stars will soon
Give light. Fight on, when every star has fled.

Fight through the darkness then, with only light
Of all the enemy's eyes to guide the way
Straight to the enemy's heart.—While sword can smite
And arm can still the mastering will obey,
Fight on. And, falling, first with wild delight
See the foe stagger, in the death-dawn grey.

202

III. OUR VICTORY

Wilt thou not trust me, love, and wait the day
When listening hearts do homage to my song?
Wilt thou not trust me though the toil be long
And many nights and mornings flee away
Ere Fame's hand touch to gold the lingering grey?
Wilt thou be sweet and true, if I am strong?
—Waiting the hour when Justice slays all wrong
And when Fame's lips my conquering will obey.

Wilt thou not trust me till I bring thee indeed
A crown beyond the crown of highest kings?
The laurel crown that crowns the soul that sings
And soothes the forehead where the thorn-points bleed.—
Wilt thou not trust me till the victory's thine?
I at thy feet, love, and the world at mine.

203

IV. “ONE AGAINST MANY”

I saw as in a dream the stars arrayed
Against me,—endless legions surging nigh
From the blue depths of fathomless clear sky;
I saw their eyes flash through the golden shade.
I was afar from help and mortal aid;
My arm was weary and my lips were dry;
Through daylight I had fought, and seen them fly,
My foes,—but now new hosts the old outweighed.

And yet I stood and with most weary eyes
And weary hand and sword confronted them.
Then as I stood, defiant though alone,
The trumpet of a sudden wind was blown
And in a moment lo! the crowded skies
Were empty as seas no ships' keels ever stem.

204

V. SPRING MESSAGES

I. AFTER LONG MONTHS

Straight from the dark of months thy sweet eyes flashed, and sought me;
The light of vanished suns and former stars they brought me,
And light of their own flame:—
And from them all the sense of Spring-tide crocus-hearted
Along my weary soul, swift, on a sudden, darted;
And with thy voice the lark's new love-song came.

Thou wast the spirit of Spring.—The sense of grassy meadows
And merry leaves that dance and balmier twilight shadows
Was born along with thee.
All blossoms are not dead,—for thou art living, lady!
So once again the sun will through the foliage shady
Strike his long arrows, lighting flower and tree.

205

Thou art alive. By this I know that Spring will follow:
Now hyacinths will bloom, and hill and copse and hollow
Will gleam with fiery gold.
The silent heart of Spring that for thy mandate waited
Will break to flower at last—Spring tortured and belated,
Hiding his ferns and flowers in fold on fold.

Thou hast the spirit of Spring and Summer's heart within thee:
And who would love and hold, and worship thee, and win thee,
Must meet the Spring's own eyes
Fearless, and Summer's eyes,—and laugh for very pleasure
When the bright fields spread out their limitless gold treasure
Beneath the cloudless smile of stormless skies.

I know that Winter now has passed away before thee.
The very heart of May will worship and adore thee
And kiss thine hands ere long.—
The heart of all the world will come with love and gladness,
And silver streams will seek with silver-voiced sweet madness
To catch the echo of thy pure heart's song.

206

And once again I lift the lyre the cold had frozen,
And laugh to think how soon of all flowers thou the chosen
Wilt put the flowers to scorn.
When thou dost call on Spring, he wakes and follows after:
In thine I hear the ring of very June's own laughter:
Thine eyes are lovelier than a summer morn.

207

II. ‘THY FACE”

Among the weary crowd of weary common faces
I linger,—and I search through flowerless dreary places,
Seeking amid the throng
One vision worth a thought. Pale Death and Sorrow meet me:
Death sues me for a wreath, and Sorrow doth entreat me
To crown her wild-haired forehead with a song.

Then I take up mine harp, and sing of Death and Sorrow,—
Of how the sweetest things are saddest things to-morrow;
How pain fills every place;
How woe has set its hand upon our city's features;
How agony is grooved on brows of human creatures;—
Then on a sudden, lady, lo! thy face.

208

Then Death and Sorrow fade, and Pain smooths out before thee
Its wrinkled brow. The sun seems ever to cast o'er thee
Strange sunlight's ceaseless charm.
Greece rises at thy glance; and Youth and Beauty linger
Beside thee just to kiss one hand or one white finger,
And Life's young red lips kiss thy rounded arm.—

I wander through the crowd. I wander gloomy-hearted.
Then just as if the sun had on a sudden parted
Dense leaves that interlace
And smiled with gracious eyes adown the leafy narrows,
I weary with the points of daily pain's mute arrows
Turn round,—and on a sudden, lo! thy face.

209

III. “BEYOND”

Thy springlike spirit has stolen from very Spring the power
Whereby he clothes in robes of leaf and bud and flower
Each new year without fail.
Not even Death, I think, could meet thee and not tremble,
Yea, surely he would turn, and sorrow and dissemble:
At sight of thy flushed cheek his hand would quail.

It seems to me that thou hast endless life within thee;
That never heart of man, nor poet's heart, must win thee,
But souls of flowers and seas:
The living voice of Spring within the woods and mountains;
The laughter of the morn in rivers and in fountains:
The deathless love-song of the thornless breeze:

210

These are thine own.—But I,—what can I bring but sadness?
Thou gazest at the plain with young heart full of gladness,
The plain so bright with flowers:
I see beyond the plain the solemn hills ascending
Height beyond awful height, with black crags never ending
And snow-capped vast indomitable towers.

Life's joys are all thine own, its every sunniest pleasure:
While I with only love for sunshine and for treasure
Gaze at thee, rapt and fond.
Yet ever is it true that thou art gazing only
At the broad flowerful plain,—while I with vision lonely
(So lonely!) mark the unscaled rocks beyond.

211

IV. “NEVER TIRED?”

And art thou never tired of poems, and of singing?—
“Nay! not more tired than Spring of merry bright birds winging
Along the woods their way.
A woman never tires of love, so it be endless:
The summer, full of flowers, would feel forlorn and friendless
With one flower less on one acacia spray.

“A woman never tires of love, so it be tireless:
A woman never tires till passion's soul be fireless
And song's heart void of flame.
What, do my eyes not speak? Then must my lips make plainer
That Song is ever sweet, a gentle-eyed retainer
Who follows on the path where Love's feet came

212

“Sing on; and sing of me. Are still my eyes a wonder?
Sing till the hushed birds part the leafy boughs in sunder
To listen to thy song.
A woman's gentle soul of love is never weary:
Lo! lover, how the dark with songless hand and dreary
Will seek to claim me for its own ere long!

“Sing, ere the night be here.”—Song woke at her sweet warning,
And with the heart of birds and with the wings of morning
Stormed through the sunlit skies:—
For song can never cease, while dark and pure and tender,
Full of the soul of love, and full of light and splendour,
Shine ever through song's heart her unchanged eyes.

213

V. IN THE LATER DAYS

So many poets lived, and died, and never found thee!—
How countless are the hearts whose loving song had crowned thee
Had they but seen thy face!—
Now in the later days, when doubt and sorrow darken,
And when to music weird the pain-crowned poets hearken,
For one Time has reserved a nobler place.

In these the later days, when through the mad world ringing
With shock and clash of strife strange sound of fiery singing
Eddies, swift wave on wave;
In these the later days, when some are chanting only
The soul of man laid waste, and passion's heart left lonely,—
While some sing love-songs to the wan-lipped grave;

214

In these the later days, when kings and thrones are falling
And when across the waves the fierce storm-birds are calling
And answering, one by one;
When Revolution's tides across the path are foaming;
When whispers, not of love, thrill through the green-leafed gloaming
And tempests threaten God and mock the sun;

In these wild later days, when all is dark and boding;
When deadly thoughts are hurled like deadliest shells exploding
On pale belief and creed;
Strong help and high delight it is to hold a treasure
Untouched by all the storm—a gift that none may measure—
A task to which none other may succeed.

Through all the storms I hear thy gentle soft voice speaking:
Amid the fiery rain of storm-bolts round us shrieking
I listen for thy tread:
Thou wouldst remain unchanged though all the world around thee
Fell at the trump of doom. The love whose strong hand crowned thee
Would hold thee scatheless though the world lay dead.

215

Great help and pure delight it is to worship theeward:—
Like turning heart and glance no longer foamward, seaward,
But up some valley-glen
Full of gold gorse and grass and gentle pink-belled heather,
Full of the sense of sun and windless summer weather,—
Then, strengthened, meeting the grey waves again.

Such is the peace thou bring'st.—In this wild stormy season,
Full of the sound of strife and hints of wrath and treason,
It is most glad and sweet
To have on me bestowed the priceless charge to sing thee,
To love thee and to crown,—to worship thee and bring thee
Flowers gathered from betwixt the warriors' feet.

Keats, Shelley, Marlowe,—these would, each, have perished, willing,
If only through their hearts thy voice had once gone, thrilling
Those fiery hearts to praise.
They lived and sang and died, yet never never knew thee!
Their swift song followed not, nor might their love pursue thee:
They died, and, dying, panted for thy gaze.

216

VI. THE OLD DREAM

The lonely weary stars that never loved before
And who were wont across the loveless dark to pour
Sad solitary rays
Woke up for thee, and brought their gleaming crowns of gold
And gave thee all their dreams,—strange love-dreams that of old
Lighted old nights and days.

The flowers that never loved brought all their bloom and wonder,
And tender buds for thee broke green soft sheaths in sunder
Eager thine eyes to meet.—
And I thy poet bring the dreams that once forsook me,
Now caught and clasped again,—the old love-dream that shook me
And made youth's wild heart beat.

217

And now if I lose thee, I lose not half my being
But all,—and pass through life with gaze no longer seeing
Things sweet or glad or fair.—
A man gives, when he gives, with absolute devotion.
Youth's love is as a stream; but man's is a wild ocean
Whose large crests shudder through the trembling air.

Youth's love is very sweet: but man's is very strong.
Youth's singing hath its charm: man's singing is a song
Full of the storm-wind's power.
Youth's lips are very sweet: a man's lips are as fire
And life and death he holds subject to his desire
And grasps them as a woman grasps a flower.

218

VII. THY SOUL

Not love that shifts and veers, not love that wanes and passes,
Not love wherewith the light wind woos the fickle grasses
In summer on the lea;
Not love such as the love the wayward springtide brings us
Nor likened to the love June's laughing sweet hand flings us,—
Not such love bring I thee!

I know each passing gleam, each fleeting shadow and light
Within thine eyes, or on thy face or forehead white,
And long—God knows I long!—
To hold thee for mine own: and yet I love thee more
Than any poet loved who ever loved before
Because I love thy pure soul more than song.

219

I love thee more than songs of face and form and feature.—
Daily the soft veil shifts upon the face of Nature:
The violet flees the rose:
The green leaf flees the red; the love of Nature changes:
The wild sea's restless heart from cloud to sea-bird ranges:
Each warm wind's lips can melt the mountain's snows.

More than strong words can say, though they be strong and eager
(Beside the truth of love the sweetest words sound meagre!)
I love thine eyes to see.
But I with life and death and pain, firm-lipped and fearless,
Have wrestled, that thy soul, so passionate and peerless,
Might through eternity belong to me.

220

VIII. SONG

I

Will God at last give me this one sweet thing,—
That thy young lips should touch the lips that sing?

II

That thy young heart should wake a song in me
More glad than morning's to the dark cold sea?

III

If thou canst love me, let thy love abide
Unchanged for ever. Be my light and guide!

IV

But give no love that thou wilt take away.
Turn not the sea's whole blue to waste wild grey!

221

V

O love of loves, my very singing dies
Before the strange sweet light that fills thine eyes.

VI

Let me—what tenderer sweeter thing could be?—
Die at the hands and at the lips of thee!

222

IX. A LOVE-SONG

Because thou hast not made me smile, but thou
Hast made me weep,
I know that I shall love thee even as now
When death brings sleep.

Because at last I tremble as I fall
Before Love's feet,
I know I love thee, sweetheart, more than all
Who made life sweet.

Because at last I sorrow and am afraid
And dread Love's hand,—
Because an agony lest loveless shade
Blot out Love's land

223

Possesses me,—I know that all my heart
Is thine indeed,
And that strong love of thee, not love of Art,
Is now my creed.

I know that thou hast changed my being quite
And made it strong;
Thou with the coal-black hair and eyes whose light
Is light of song.

I know that thou hast made me pure and brave;
Turn not, nor flee:
Take thou not back the priceless gift Love gave:
Absorb thou me.

Hold me and thrill me with thy wondrous eyes
Till time is dead;
Till the last sunset's flush across wild skies
Fades out, blood-red.

For never since I met them—never yet—
Have mine eyes turned
From thine. The light thou didst within them set
Has duly burned.

224

And death will find me watching still thine eyes,
Not watching things
About me,—trembling shores or tottering skies
Or golden wings.

Hold me; oh, hold me ever, till the grave
Close over me.
Cast me not back to wander like a wave
O'er boundless sea.

For thee I love with all my strength of soul.
Lo! at thy feet
While years flit on and changeful seasons roll
O love, O sweet,

I rest,—as I have rested never yet.
Be true to me.
Eyes, gaze through mine till mine own eyes have met
Eternity.

225

X. KNOWN, YET UNKNOWN

Because I know thee well, yet never quite,
I love thee so.
Most sweet thou art, yet strange. Each morning's light
New blossoms blow,—

And every morn within thine eyes the light
Of unseen things
Shines. It were loss to apprehend thee quite.
Thy mystery flings

A new and ever newer charm around
Thy being here.
While others weary, thou art ever found
More and more dear.

226

XI. MY QUEEN

SONG

I

Of all girls' faces sweet and very fair
There is but one
I love.—Can all the stars that gild the air
Put out the sun?

II

Can all the flowers that fill the garden-bed
Dismay the rose?
Nay! Love's hand only over one sweet head
His glory throws.

227

III

There are fair flowers and faces—that I know—
Many to see.
But only one whose beauty lays me low;
But one for me.

IV

Eyes meet my own. They never hold me now:
Their spell is o'er.
But thine eyes hold me. At thy feet I bow
For evermore.

V

There are fair faces. Only one for me:
One mouth, I ween:
One royal look of tenderest sovereignty:
One love, one queen.

228

XII. “NOW LET ME REST”

SONG

I

I feel that I have all my life been seeking,
Seeking for thee.
Now let me rest, and listen to Love speaking
At length to me.

II

Just let me listen to Love's silver laughter
That rings in thine.
Just let me see thine eyes, and never after
For others pine.

229

III

Just let me listen to the music flowing,
Love, through thy voice;
Watch the sweet flush upon thy bright cheek glowing;
In thee rejoice.

IV

Just let me rest as if it were for ever,
Love, in thy sight,
And dream that death and parting cannot sever
Nor sorrow blight.

V

Just let me, sweetest heart that ever found me
(For love's own sake!)
Dream that thy passionate deathless love has crowned me
And never wake.

230

XIII. SUPREME REPOSE

I

Now all old storms of passionate emotion
Are no more stirred.
It is as if the whole Atlantic ocean
Loved one sea-bird!

II

It is as if the wild unbroken anguish
That surged through me
Had found new peaceful wings that droop and languish
O'er summer sea.

231

III

Old thoughts, old dreams, in thee have found their haven,
And deep repose
Sinks o'er the heart upon whose walls are graven
Strange prints of woes.

IV

Upon me rest unutterable falleth
When thou art near:
Peace from the heaven of heavens with soft voice calleth
When thee I hear.

V

Not even a kiss I ask: I only covet
That I may weep.
Thine heart I ask; but just that I may love it
And fall asleep.

232

XIV. “BE THOU HAPPY!”

I

Oh, be thou happy! Let me ever know
At least this thing—
That thoughts and dreams of mine that worked me woe
Have made thee sing!

II

There is not any man upon the earth,
Beneath God's sky,
With songs upon his lips and seeming mirth,
So weary as I.

233

III

There is not any woman on the earth
So sweet as thou:
Oh that my pain may magnify thy mirth,
Strong Love knows how!

IV

If thou art happy, I am half content
For aye to be
The weariest living soul. Mine eyes are bent
Alone on thee.

V

And while I hear thy laughter softly ring,
And thine eyes gleam,
I just have heart enough to love and sing
And sing and dream.

234

XV. SUPREME DEVOTION

I

If I can love thee with supreme devotion,
Wilt thou love me,
And mingle with my heart's wild throbbing ocean
Thy silver glee?

II

Lo! love is ne'er content. Love longeth ever
Itself to bring.
Love's one despair is this—that it can never
Its whole soul fling

235

III

Down at the loved one's feet. How small and grievous
The gifts we make!
Slight piteous wreaths Time's grudging slow hands weave us,
And these we take

IV

And crown the souls we love. But if our power
And will were one,
Each star our hands would bring, and every flower,
And every sun.

236

XVI. THE ONLY DEATH

I

When thou didst speak of death, it seemed to me
The only death would be the loss of thee.

It is not death that hurts, nor wounds nor pain;
This would be death—to see no more again

Thine eyes. There is no other death for me
Now left, O loved one, than the loss of thee.

II.

For I have so completely lost in thine
My life, that now it seemeth no more mine

But just a life that floweth, love, through thee,
As the warm land-stream mingleth with the sea.

Thou art my life; and life means now to me
The life, the beauty, and the love of thee.

237

XVII. A VISION

I saw a company whom God had crowned.—
They held the post of danger through the day
And died at night upon the blood-stained ground
And over them the moon soared gaunt and grey
And the wild leaves fled past with wailing sound:
But now, in heaven, their pain had passed away
And they were crowned and victors. Yet their eyes
Were full of tears. They knew not why there rang
Along the serried armies of the skies
So vast a shout. Their joy was like a pang,
So unexpected was it. Wild surprise
Smote through their dumb hearts as the angels sang
“Glory to these, who held the one chief post
And held it to the end,—and died at night

238

And won the battle for the whole great host
Yet saw no victory when their souls took flight
Across the red-stained meadows.” Too engrossed
With their own task to watch the waning light
They tarried till the end,—till each one fell
Prone at his post. Now unto each God says:
“Soul, thou didst win the fight. Thou hast done well.”
And, as each hears with wonder in his gaze,
Each answers, suffering having cast out pride:
“Lord, I did nought. I only loved and died.”

239

XVIII. A PRAYER

To love is heaven, and not to love is hell.—
To give sweet love away
Eternally and boundlessly is well.
For this alone I pray!

I ask the power of loving without bound:
No limit there should be.
If thine arms, love, may never close me round,
Let my arms cover thee!

Let my strong love and limitless embrace
Of fiery fervent heart
Be ever round about thee,—in each place;
Blessing, where'er thou art.

240

Let me on earth and through all worlds to be
Be just the one who so
Completely loved that he saw nought but thee;
Who loved till love was woe.

—That so thine image may not quit my side
Through all eternity:
While I thank God that I have lived and died
Madly in love with thee.

241

XIX. “YET MORE SWEET”

Let me just watch thine eyes. If nothing more,
Yet let this one thing be!
Is it forbidden to the throbbing shore
To watch the clear-eyed sea?

May not the green woods, dark and full of woe,
Watch, once, their bright birds' flight?—
Oh let me love thee, watch thee, guard thee, so:
As guards its stars the night.

Be thou one star within my dreary night;
One sweet wave on my sea;
One woman with superb eyes full of light,
Light ever turned on me!

242

If all the world of women came and fell
One by one at my feet
And offered me strange gifts too sweet to tell,
It would be yet more sweet,

O love, to me to watch thy clear brown eyes
(Though no gift else were ours!)
Than to possess all hearts beneath the skies,
And win those hearts' best flowers.

243

XX. THE WOMAN AND THE GIRL

Sometimes I see the girl within thine eyes;
Sometimes the woman there
Is manifest. So April's tender skies
Predict June's perfect air.

I sometimes mark, thee watching (and my days
Are spent in watching thee)
Thy perfect woman-face. I seem to gaze
On what shall surely be.

I seem to see the woman full of power,—
No more the girl most sweet,
But the magnificent and perfect flower.
I fall before thy feet

Thee worshipping with wonder and with awe,
For years will further grace
And perfect what is now without a flaw,
Thy royal young pure face.

244

XXI. ART AND LOVE

I used to love fair Art with golden wings;
I loved her like a bride;
I met her by blue streams and forest springs;
I wandered at her side.

The sunsets held her, and the morning's gold
Circled her peerless hair:
Deep fern and heather draped the summer wold,
And buoyant Art was there.

And in sweet music Art's sweet spirit spoke;
And over the wild sea
Her face like sudden lustrous morning broke
Triumphant upon me.

245

So all my youth was passed. I worshipped her,
Fair Art, with love supreme,
And brought her all my hopes, and I laid bare
Before her every dream.

Art was my goddess, tall and ample-eyed,—
The queen my spirit sought.
I rested at her feet, and would have died
To please the queen in aught.

But now Art's form doth change into the form
That I love better still.
Art's marble hand is cold, but thine is warm:
Art's stern touch cannot thrill.

Thy young touch thrills me, and thy deep brown eyes
Make me forget to sing
Aught else. So sacred depths of summer skies
Drown out the dreams of spring.

I have loved Art with love beyond all speech
And laboured in her fane,
And sought her secret inmost heart to reach,—
Her deepest soul to gain.

246

But now I bring my deepest love of Art
And give that love to thee.
Lo! she and I are strangers and must part:
New sails are on the sea.

There are fair crowns of labour and of birth;
Let this my one crown be—
I loved Art best of all things upon earth,
Yet loved Art less than thee!

247

XXII. THE POET AND THE LADY

THE POET

Thou canst not understand this heart of mine:
Thou art so fair.
Can the white daisy apprehend the pine
Whose branches wear
Crowns of the stormy stars that through them shine
And stormy air?

Thou canst not understand how I love thee!
How canst thou know
The storm and travail of the ceaseless sea
And all its woe?
Long centuries must it take thine heart to me
Quite close to grow.

248

If thou couldst understand my whole soul now,
It would be pain.
I would not add one wrinkle to thy brow;
Ever remain
Upon my life's tree the one blossoming bough:—
That is love's gain.

249

THE LADY

I am content, if I can bring the pine
Some gleams of blue!
Part the deep dark-tressed boughs, and softly shine
The thick leaves through.

If I can only apprehend your Art,
Know what you are,
And in some dark sad corner of your heart
Create a star.

If I can only bring you some delight,
Some bliss to win;
Pierce with glad rays your spirit's stormy night
And enter in.

250

For God made woman's eyes to comfort those
Whose souls despair.
For this God made her sweet mouth like a rose,
And set love there:

That whoso seeth her should know that rest
Is yet in store
For even the weariest soul within her breast
For evermore.

251

XXIII. GOD'S YEARNING

“Because I, being God, am deathless King
Of all men born,
Let the world's measureless wild sorrow bring
Its every thorn.

“Because I am so strong that even the wings
Of lightning fail
Before me, let me help the humblest things,—
A rosebud pale.

“Because I have the godlike power to shun
Death's sombre night,
Let me the sun-bright pass beyond the sun,
Me, lord of light.

“Because, O world, thou hatest me indeed
And hate is loss,
Let me for thy sweet erring strange sake bleed
Upon the cross.

252

“O world, thine eyes are full of wandering light:
I love to see
The glory in thine eyes that shall wax bright
And full of me,

“When in the end the final work is done
And, one far morn,
Thy fields and gardens smile beneath the sun
Without one thorn.

“That thou, world, mayest be saved, let me be lost:
That thou mayest rise,
Let me the sinless pay sin's fullest cost
Before thine eyes.

“O world, sweet world, the very heart of God
Yearns over thee!
Wild anguish storms God's cloudless vast abode,
Eternity.

“Wild love and anguish storm the heart divine:
O world forlorn,
I kiss the hands that round my forehead twine
Thorn upon thorn.”

253

XXIV. LOVE'S OTHER HALF

Most sweet it were that thou shouldst care for me
(If only it could be so!)—
And yet my passionate deep love for thee
Has its own crown to show.

The half of love that thou couldst give away
Would make my whole heart beat.
Yet I may love thee more with each new day:
Love's other half is sweet.

254

XXV. A DYING POET'S LOVE

When Heine lay upon his bed of pain
Helpless, the end being near,
Love sought his couch, and sought it like a fane,
Brightening the prospect drear.

Young love was near him on that dying bed.
A young girl's gentle heart
Yearned over Heine's world-worn weary head
And worshipped Heine's Art.

He loved her with the love intense and wild
A genius-spirit brings:
She on this earth of ours as yet a child,—
He 'mid the next world's kings.

So when he died, their spirits could not part.
She held him with her bloom;
She held him with her girlish young live heart:
He held her from the tomb.

255

XXVI. TWO DREAMS

On one wild day when rain swirled round in showers,
I dreamed that thou wast dead:
That wandering grass and dreary grave-side flowers
Circled thy dear dark head.

I stretched out arms my vanished love to reach
And groaned in wild despair:
Then sank back into calm beyond all speech,
Seeing that thou wast there.

And yet another dream and weird I had,
And it was pain to me.—
It seemed that women loved me. Was I glad?
Nay, I looked round for thee!

Strange is it when one love so holds the heart,
So maddens with its spell,
That other love would carry hate's own dart,—
Would be not heaven, but hell.

256

XXVII. “IF ONLY THOU ART THERE!”

We know not yet what heavenly love shall be,
Save that it shall be sweet.
Yet this I know: that utmost heaven on me
Shines, when I hear thy feet.

Heaven will be glad and full of calm to me,
Dead will be all despair,
If but my glance may fall again on thee,—
If only thou art there!

257

XXVIII. “BEFORE THE THRONE OF GOD”

I dreamed I followed thee across the stars;
Thy sweet face beckoned me:
Through strange cloud-masses, bursting vaporous bars,
My spirit followed thee.

The vast and desolate and treeless track
Seemed just as nothing then;
Nought if my spirit could but win thee back
And hold thee once again.

Stars faded into gloom, and new stars rose
Upon my weary sight:
Yet still I followed,—followed to the close
Of the wild realms of night.

And then I found thee,—in a land divine,
Unknown, unseen, untrod;
And clasped at length thy soul, and sealed it mine
Before the throne of God.

258

XXIX. PRAYER

Though I be far, yet I can set in motion
By prayer for thee
A stronger force than sways the wildest sea,
The fiercest ocean.

Love passes into prayer, and desperate yearning
That crosses space
And brings our parted spirits face to face,
All distance spurning.

The soul who prays wields force by far the strongest
Of forces all:
He soonest wins love's topmost castle-wall
Who prays the longest.

259

XXX. “ETERNAL BOYHOOD”

I

Eternal boyhood deepens day by day
As the heart older grows:
The man who loves a rose
Is ever immortal, though the hair wax grey.

II

The man who loveth thee,
O thou most sweet incarnate spirit of Spring,
Becomes a strong and age-defying king
Of heaven and earth and sea.

III

No man who loves thee, sweetheart of my soul,
Can e'er be aught but young,
For Spring's self on thy tongue
Lingers for ever, while swift seasons roll.

260

IV

Thee never words may praise
Fitly, for thou art far beyond all words,—
Just as the summer singing of the birds
Outstrips our choicest lays.

V

I never shall find words in which to say
(That is my one despair!)
How past all sweet praise fair
Thou art to me,—and lovelier day by day.

VI

I never shall find song
Divine enough, my beautiful, for thee.
When we stand close beside a white may-tree
Words do the sweet bloom wrong.

VII

Song, once I thought, could never fail to show
The fervent heart within:
Yet, God knows, it seems sin
Almost to sing of thee—I love thee so!

261

VIII

My beautiful, my queen,
My sweetest of all sweet things upon earth,—
My sovereign woman with the silver mirth,
The deep glance and serene,—

IX

The harp falls from my hand! God only knows
(The God who gave to me
To love and look on thee)
How my whole soul upon thee doth repose.

262

XXXI. JACOB AND RACHEL

As Jacob served seven years
For dark-eyed Rachel, and the long years seemed
Nought for the love he bare her as they gleamed
Past, full of spring's wild tears
And summer's passion,—so it seems to me
That I have, through strange suffering, served for thee
Not seven years as decreed
But seventy times seven years, and more indeed!

263

XXXII. LOVE AND ART

Help thou me with my Art!
That thus the beauty which I worship so
May flush the world's sad cheeks with summer glow
And comfort many a heart.

Clear is our duty high.
Thou hast the gift of beauty; I can sing;
We have to bless the wintry world with spring
And sunlight, thou and I.

Help me the world to teach.
Teach me all lessons gracious with thine eyes:
Be ever, love, the most divine surprise
That e'er moved songful speech.

264

Teach me love's secrets deep.
That I may move the world, inspire thou me
And fill my spirit with the sense of thee
Till sweet thoughts make me weep.

Love must not make us blind.
We have to help the world and make it glad:
Thou by thy beauty, I by song must add
New riches to mankind.

Just gaze at me, and I
Will sing so that the world must gaze at thee
And catch the passionate refrain from me,
Prolong it when I die.

265

XXXIII. A POET'S SOUL

Eternal youth is thine.—
The man who loveth thee
Grows ageless like the sea
And youthful like the changeless mountain-line.

Love gives his vast eternal youth to God.
The man who pours his soul
Deep into Love's control
God's temple-floors hath trod.

The man who loveth thee,
O tenderest living thing,
Is crowned immortal king
Of past and present and futurity.

266

The man who loveth with the love that looks
Straight into Love's own eyes
The threatening death defies
And finds fresh water-brooks.

Others may love thee well.
But I love thee, dear heart,
With the strong soul of Art
And with a force transcending heaven and hell.

I give thee just the wildest sweetest thing
That under God's blue sky
Can sing or throb or sigh;
A poet's soul I bring:

Its fiery hopes that rise
And follow thee, and still
Would carry out Love's will
Though Death stood in the way with lurid eyes.

267

XXXIV. ‘ACROSS THE STARS”

I

Though thou art far away
Yet, sweetheart, I can pray
For thee.—No leagues of thunder-traversed air
Can bar the passage of the wings of prayer.

II

I have no strength nor power,
My tender one white flower,
To hold thee safe. The Power that sways the sea
Will for a season take the charge from me.

268

III

The Power that holds the sky
Though my arms be not nigh
Will see that through thine eyes no sad thoughts gleam
But only thine own soul's divine sunbeam.

IV

God bless and keep thee, dear!
Love whisper in thine ear!—
Hope mocks at distance, snaps all chains and bars,
And pure love reaches thee across the stars.

269

XXXV. THE SUPREME LOVE

Affections, passions, many there may be
In the soul's life. But one
Great love brings absolute fierce sovereignty:
Stars tremble at the sun.

The great love gathers in its wide embrace
Affections, passions all.
Where there were many, now shines but one face;
The old love-temples fall.

This is the wonder of surpassing love;
Its marvel and its doom.
A sudden wind sweeps grimly from above
And leaves one flower in bloom:

270

One, only one. Man rises to his height
Of being when he knows
That love for one alone can flood life's night
With the great stars' repose.

I have not loved, nor shall I love again,
While stars still kiss the sea,
With gleam of joy, or chance of awful pain,
Sweetheart, as I love thee.

271

XXXVI. “LOVE'S INVINCIBILITY”

It surely must be sweet
To be loved, sweetheart, as my soul loves thee?
It must make yet more blue the bluest sea,
More swift the summer's feet!

It must make every tender flower beside
The river thou dost seek
Smile almost, almost speak:
It must add radiance to the water wide.

It must make every day
More beautiful, my beauty, unto thee:
I have not lived for nothing if through me
Love doth his gifts convey.

272

It must make, surely, all a woman's soul
Expand and bud and bloom;
As the sun draws perfume
From every flower by his divine control.

To know that love is thine,
Love pure and passionate and all-supreme,—
This must make life to thee one sunny dream
And all the world divine.

If it is sweet to love, sweet it must be
To thee to be loved so,
And through all life to go
Guarded by love's invincibility.

273

XXXVII. A PRAYER FOR THE FUTURE

That thou wilt faithful be, and full of love and sweetness;
That thou wilt let fair Love to exquisite completeness
Round off our marriage-song,
I pray. I pray that through the years that stretch before us
God's sun may ever shine with tenderer bounty o'er us:
I pray that my love's strength may make thee strong.

I pray that every day, as day past day goes gliding,
I may be at thy side with gentlest love and guiding,
With tenderest voice and heart,—
Bestowing upon thee the love that I have lavished
On stars and flowers and waves, bright-hearted things soon ravished
Away by time's hand as the years depart.

274

I pray that thou mayest know—that God himself may teach thee—
How vast a fight I fought to win thee, love, and reach thee;
How awful was the strain.
I pray that thou mayest know that if my soul hath won thee
The power that cast its spell around thine heart and on thee
Was just the power of love and desperate pain:—

The power that moves the stars,—that reaches God and binds him;
Yea, in the farthest bower of mistiest heaven it finds him
And brings him to our side:
The power that shone through Christ when on the blood-stained gibbet
He hung for hours, that love might once for all exhibit
Its deathless kinghood through the man who died.

And oh that I may be for ever and for ever
Thy patient lover true—lose heart and sweet hope never—
For this, O love, I pray:
That I may win thine heart so utterly and sweetly
That thou mayest never need, content in me completely,
To turn, e'en for one hour, thine eyes away.

275

I pray that God will give my heart the power to hold thee
And my strong arms the right in tenderest clasp to fold thee
O sweetheart, O my queen!
I pray that I may be thy leader and thy poet
Bearing all pain for thee, that thou mayest then forego it
And mayest securely on my strong soul lean.

O darling of my heart,—if I to-day may name thee
So, once, and may for once by sweetest title claim thee—
O darling of my soul—
I pray that I may win from God the dreadful power
In spite of hell and death, to hold thee, O my flower,
And win for thee, with thee, new life's white goal.

That I may faithful be—to death if it be needed:
That ever by thy heart my love-voice may be heeded
I pray,—that I may be
Each morning more in love, and every morning truer,
Even as the sky to God is every morning bluer
And bluer all the strange depths of the sea.

276

XXXVIII. “LIFE AND DEATH”

This was the awful thing,—that once for all I knew it—
That God was in the flame, and gleaming ever through it
His panoply supreme.
Seven times hot was the flame, but God was in the fire:
So through the furnace rang, e'en there, my desperate lyre
And agony became like love's own dream.

Yet awful was the place—I, passing through pain's portal,
Grew for a season mixed with hearts and spirits immortal:
I fought,—and held my breath,
Knowing that I at length was fighting not for pastime
But for the love of thee, and fighting for the last time,
And that, this time, the stakes were life and death.

277

XXXIX. THE ENDING OF LOVE'S QUEST

For thee I have achieved hard things and dread.—I know it.
But what were heart of man, and, least of all, of poet,
If this he could not do?
The impossible to love is possible, and easy.
The God who first began his flower-work by the daisy
Conceived at last his rose of fieriest hue.

So I who first began my love-work by soft singing
Of love that passed away, now send a strong song ringing
Along the fields of air.
I who have sung of charm of meadow-sweet and daisy
And stooped to gather buds in morning's uplands hazy
Halt now at thee,—and nothing else is fair.

278

XL. “IF I HAD LOST THEE!”

I never should have sung again, if I had lost thee!
If the dark winds of time had seized on thee and tost thee
Like some sad autumn leaf
Aside, why then my soul would never once have spoken
Again in music sweet, nor the grim silence broken
Of helpless deadliest hopeless speechless grief.

The saddest sorrow of all is sorrow that is speechless,
Tearless, and motionless; like some vast ocean, beachless
Yet void of waves and sound:—
A sea that none may plumb, a waste that none may travel,
Barred by strange walls of fog that never breeze doth ravel,
Sunless and moonless,—and with no known bound.

279

XLI. “THE HIGHEST GOAL”

Not for the Stage,—nay, thou art made for higher regions!
What hath the rose to say to lesser pale flower-legions?
What hath the stainless air
To say to wreaths of cloud that linger in the valley?
When round about thy path the gold-winged angels rally
Wilt thou be less than they, who art more fair?

Thou art a poet's love. Be worthy of thy poet.
Rise to thy woman's height: abjure not, nor forego it,
The whiteness of thy soul.
Lo! there are thousands left to seek the valley-fountains:
O deathless love of mine, be ours the lordly mountains
And ours the highest and the heavenliest goal.

280

XLII. THY GIRLISH THOUGHTS

A poet's purest thoughts that heavenward turn, and seaward,
Are never pure enough, sweet love, when turning theeward:
For thou dost put to scorn
By thine unconscious white pure girlhood every hour
That I have spent in dreams, and every fancied flower
In the dim mystic bardic cloudland born.

Man's purest thoughts are nought. Thy girlish thoughts are purer.—
Upon the mountain-height of dreams with footstep surer
Thou treadest. Yea, to me
Thou bringest back lost dreams that once waved plumage saintly.
And yet these shadow forth thy girlish heart but faintly:
The purest is not pure enough for thee.

281

XLIII. THE VICTOR

What are my fairest songs beside thee real and queenly?
What is the realm of Art wherethrough men move serenely
For many and many a year
Compared to thee?—Art fails beside thee and before thee:
And, if men praise my work, I hear not, but adore thee;
My tenderest words reach not thy beauty, dear.

The tenderest words of man, be he ten times inspired,
Would fail to render thee, to touch the height desired:
Art faints before thy gaze.
When all my work had failed, God's conquering hand, thee moulding,
Set thee before the world, that every heart, beholding
My work contemned, the Victor's work might praise.

282

XLIV. “THINE HIGHEST LOVE”

I crave thine highest love.—No mere swift temporal passion,
That gives, then passes on in boyish girlish fashion;
No momentary thing;
But love that ever grows to higher tenderer beauty:
The love whose heart is one with the strong soul of duty:
The love whereat the stars rejoice and sing.

The love of thy deep soul. The love that, daily growing,
Sees ever, as the path, along the mountains going,
Winds upward day by day,
New heights of sacred joy before its footstep gleaming:
The love whose heart is one with woman's softest dreaming:
The love that triumphs when the hair turns grey.

283

This I would ask of thee—The love that, far from winning
And leaving, rather aims for ever at beginning:
The love whose birth is new
Each morn and every eve: the love that knows no sorrow
For, if the night be sombre, it can create to-morrow
New light, and blossoms fair with freshest dew.

284

XLV. FLOWER AND FRUIT

Why did I not know thee, instead of flowers and mountains?
Thy voice is sweeter far than voice of the old fountains:
Thou hast a tenderer charm
Than all the dreams of bliss Youth worshipped as he wandered
Along the flower-hung roads, and sang of love, and pondered.
White were the waves. But whiter is thine arm.

Why did I not know thee, instead of wooing sadness?
Why did I not woo thee, and, wooing thee, woo gladness
And infinite delight?
If I had only known that thou wast waiting—Known it!
If I by but one hint had only once been shown it!—
But God keeps all his best gifts out of sight.

285

And now I see thy face revealed with sudden splendour,
And all the pent-up love of the long years I render
And homage absolute.
But is it, love, too late? Will God who kept the flower
Waiting through year on year till this triumphant hour
Hold back from me the more triumphant fruit?

286

XLVI. “FORSAKE ME NOT”

It gladdens all my soul that thou dost choose to tarry,
Love, by my side. With thee, all thrusts of pain I parry:
Without thee, I am nought.
With thee, I am a god, and full of life and power:
Without thee, I am lost,—and never one song-flower
Without thee would to the world's feet be brought.

Forsake me not. My heart is thine as never any
Strong heart of singer yet was given and held, though many
Strong singers' hearts have sighed.
Hold thou my heart; 'tis thine. Stretch out thine hand and take it.
Wilt thou redeem and heal,—or past all wild words break it?
God, time, and thine own soul, love, must decide.

287

XLVII. THY REWARD

If thou art true to me in spite of pain and danger,
What wilt thou gain, O love? The sweet divine sense, stranger
And stronger far than grief,
That thou hast saved a soul, and saved that soul for ever,
And added to my crown one flower that withers never,—
One deathless never-fading laurel-leaf.

This thou wilt gain:—A love that never words can measure;
My whole deep heart for mine of never-ceasing treasure
(If thou dost value this!)
This thou shalt gain:—The sense that when earth's loves are going
Thy golden cup of love is full to overflowing;
The sense that thou hast saved me by thy kiss.

288

XLVIII. AGONY

I

Is it not agony beyond all words
That thou art not with me?
Worse than the loss to the white wild sea-birds
Of their white restless sea?

II

Is there one single hour by day, by night
When I grieve not and sigh?
Longing for thee, as for my very light,—
And longing, till I die!

III

Art thou in pain? Hast thou one moment's grief,—
One little pang at times?
O ripple striking on the river-reef,
Think of the sea's wild chimes!

289

IV

O tender ripple of a girlish heart,
Remember how through me
Pours the remorseless anguish, for my part,
Of the despairing sea!

V

I dread the morning and I dread the night
Because thou art not there:
I know (and gladly know) thy pain is light
By what I have to bear.

290

XLIX. “UPON THE SEA!”

Fight while the timbers shriek, the rigging wails:
Thou knowest not what vast issues may depend
Upon thy courage and thy faith, O friend—
Fight while the hoarse shot whizzes through the sails.
Nail to the mast-head with defiant nails
The flag that only love's own breeze can bend:
Fight the brave vessel till the very end,—
While angry powder-smoke sweeps round in gales.

Fight while the ship rocks under thee,—and then,
When timber parts from timber, smile and thank
God in the face of all the world of men
That standing-room is left thee on one plank:
And when that plank fails, should this last thing be,
Why then in God's name stand upon the sea!

291

L. “JOY AND TEARS”

When I perceived that my love would not change
But last through all the years
And over all far heights of being range,
The thought brought joy and tears.

Deep joy to think that in thy clear brown eyes
I might gaze evermore:
That love would quite outlast the solemn skies,
Outlive the sea and shore.

Sorrow to think that it might be in vain;
That love deep as the sea
Might live eternally and live in pain,—
For wilt thou still love me?

292

LI. SONG

I

To-day thou hast the wings, O love of mine,
And over the sea's grey
Thou canst flee quite away
Leaving my lyre to weep, my soul to pine.

II

Young art thou, and thou hast the wondrous wings
Of girlhood, and the air
Of summer finds thee fair
And round about thee all the wildwood sings.

III

Oh, what can hold thee? Can I stay thy flight?
Oh love alone can hold
Thy young plumes fleet and bold
And force thy wandering wild feet to alight.

293

IV

I have no other power,—yea, nought but this;
Love,—love, and love alone,
To draw thee from thy throne;—
Love in my eyes, and on my lips love's kiss.

294

LII. GREAT AND SMALL

Not only to the stars the star-God who pervadeth
The solemn outspread heavens, and broodeth o'er and shadeth
The wide skies with his hand,—
Not only to the stars the star-God's word is given:
Not only to the blue illimitable heaven:
Not only to the sea and flower-starred land:

The God who sows the void with stars, and sows the meadows
With fragrant blossom-stars, and fills the soft June-shadows
With wind-breaths sweet and mild,—
The God who holds the whole vast cosmos in vibration
And hurls through war on war mad nation upon nation
Is pledged to help the humblest human child.

295

LIII. “THE LORD WATCH BETWEEN ME AND THEE!”

May Love be guardian over heart and heart,
Though none beside us stand!
May love be with us, when we are apart,
And keep hand locked in hand!

Though thee I see not, yet thine eyes I see:
They keep me true and strong.
Though me thou see'st not, let the message be
Still with thee of my song.

May love keep watch between us!—May his strength
Keep both our spirits true!
Till, storm and thunder past, we reach at length
The sky's eternal blue.

296

LIV. JEWELS

Jewels!—Can I not bring thee all the light
Of heaven's fair farthest stars for diadem?
Can I not give thee the dread soul of them
And clothe thee with the wild robes of the night?
Can I not win for thee in thickest fight
(Where giant spears and swords love's onset stem)
Gifts that a goddess-heart might not contemn,—
Gifts sweet to love's most penetrating sight?—

Can I not clothe thee, O thou woman fair,
With love for mantle, and with song for crown
Crown thee,—and bring thee, through life's stormiest air,
To peace and, it may be, high pure renown?
Can I not bring thee gifts of love and praise,
From love's soft dawning till the end of days?

297

LV. “IF THOU WILT LOVE ME, LOVE”

Thou art my youth.—My youth lies far behind the mountains:
Unmeasured years of pain between me and the fountains
Of young life bar the way:
To-day's November sun seems softly to remind me
Of strong old summer suns that in the years behind me
Gilded green leaves on many a forest-spray.

But thou art youth. To love old age is but a liar.
He cannot dim love's flame, he cannot quench love's fire;
For all his strength, not he!
Old age thinks scorn of love, and deems love like a river
Whose blue soft tides at cold advance of age will shiver:—
Love laughs,—and lo! love's streamlet is a sea.

298

If thou wilt love me, love,—not with a love which passes,
But with a love which stays when winter smites the grasses
And roses one by one:
If thou wilt love me, love,—with sweet love very tender,
The love which at death's gate sees through that gate the splendour
Which robes the rising of another sun:

If thou wilt love me, love,—with solemn love undying,—
Then I shall hear the heights to the far heights replying
And song will thrill the skies:
If thou wilt love me, love, I never shall grow older,
Nor watch the sunset-light upon the hills wax colder,
For heaven and earth will take light from thine eyes.

299

LVI. THY WOMANHOOD

And dost thou think that I am blind to this—
That half thine heart I cannot see?
That thou shouldst just a little love is bliss:
Yet much is hidden, woe is me!

Thy glorious woman-heart all unrevealed
Waits,—waits in silence soft and deep.
Thy soul as yet is like a form concealed
And wrapped in robes of magic sleep.

Thy perfect soul is what I long to win:
Thy perfect woman-heart indeed.
Ope thy soul's gates that Love may enter in;
To song the entrance-right concede.

300

Give me thy future. Lovely as thou art,
Yet lovelier thou wilt one day be.
I dream of this as Spring's enamoured heart
Dreams of the summer stars and sea.

As Spring's heart dreams of unarisen flowers
And of soft summer joys unseen
And of love-laughter ringing through deep bowers
As yet but touched by tenderest green,

So I dream softly, but with high delight
—Delight that fills with stars my gloom—
Of what thou wilt be,—even yet more bright
One day, and full of softer bloom.

I know how very little, love, I see
Of the deep silent heart within:
But keep that heart a sacred trust for me;
Give love the chance that heart to win.

Wait. Wait till God and Love the moment bring
When soul may leap forth soul to meet.
Pure love can rob time of its utmost sting
And make the weariest hours most sweet.

301

Give me thy soul,—not for this life alone,
But for the years beyond the grave.
When thou to perfect womanhood art grown,
Let heart and glance unite to save.

When thou art woman,—when thine eyes awake
From girlish thoughts and springlike dreams,—
Then let the splendour of love's morning break
Around thee with triumphant gleams.

When the pure spirit in thee is divine
And fair and quite complete and strong,
Place then thy woman's warm soft hand in mine
And be song's soul. My soul is song.

302

LVII. THE FRONTIER-POST

On those who held the frontier-post
And held it through the night
What of divine new light
Shall break when morning shows the golden coast
And the new cliffs in sight?

On those who gave their lives away
For very love's own sake
What wondrous dawn shall break
Rose-flushed and splendid through the parting grey?
What dead hopes shall awake?

303

LVIII. ANOTHER YEAR

Another year will soon spread speedy wings
And pass into the darkness of dead things,
But still the land is ours:
The land of love is still our own to hold;
Its blossoms white and blossoms of pure gold,
And all the next year's flowers.

All flowers and beauty of the coming year
Are still mine own, for thou art with me, dear,
Thou, chief of all things sweet.
The old dead year may carry off its spoil:
It matters not, for thy true hand can foil
Death, and avert defeat.

There is no death, if only love's fair land
Be ours for ever; if, firm hand in hand,
We face the future days.

304

Death has no power when loving hearts are one,
And winter gleams as with an August sun
And lights flower-fragrant ways.

Not only, love, the coming year is ours,
But all the next world's unforeseen great flowers
If God be good and we
Faithful. All future time before us lies
And fervent summers with unknown blue skies
And blue unheard-of sea.

Through pain and dark dread storms we have endured
And this foretaste of victory secured;
Love's fortress still we keep.
Love's flag still flies above the topmost tower,
And still thy watchman's cry from hour to hour
Rings through life's sombre sleep.

305

LIX. “THE ARMY BEHIND THE MAN”

As in a trance I saw a human form.—
The universe with peals of thunderous sound
And forked red lightnings raged and clamoured round:
Ten thousand waves, a white and angry swarm,
Swept on him. Hell belched forth a poisonous storm
Of fiends who sprang and danced from mound to mound,
Mocking. For human sympathy he found
Cold hearts and hands to meet love's hand-grasp warm.

At first I groaned, and in my sorrow deep
Despaired. “The lonely man is lost,” I said:
“The universe is armed his soul to slay.”
God touched my eyes, and I awoke from sleep
And saw the spirit hosts that leader led
Filling all time and space, and night and day.

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LX. LOVE'S SILENCE

There is a love so deep it travels far
Beyond the reach of words. E'en love-songs jar
When the great depths are stirred.
The blue vast heaven responds to God who made
Its depths profound of awful light and shade
Sometimes without one word.

When heaven is full of love, no thunders leap
Along the heights of the abysmal steep:
Nay! all is silent then.
There is a love so full of silent peace
That even solemn stately love-chants cease
Or are not heard of men.

O love, be with me in my silent hours
And gather sweeter than the old song-flowers
With sympathy that knows

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That as a soul may be too glad to pray
So even thus to love there comes a day
When the gold song-gates close.

Speech is not needed when the souls are one
Nor battle-cry when all the strife is done
(Yet, ah! the strife was long).
O love, come closer than song's tenderest word,
Closer than music! When no songs are heard,
Be still the soul of song.

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LXI. OUT OF SIGHT OF LAND

From shore to shore
Far as the weariest aching sight can roam
Billows that climb and burst, billows that roar;
Wan leagues of sunless foam.

If ever we
Reach a new land of peace, of peace divine,
The first green hills will rise beyond the sea,
Beyond the waste of brine.

Far out we sail:
Far out of eyeshot of the former land.
Round us the wandering white-winged sea-birds wail,
A lonely weird strange band.

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They know not, these,
The calm and beauty of the summer shore;
The light and laughter of the leafy trees;
The fragrance of the pine-wood floor.

No dales are theirs
Thyme-scented, gentle, full of chant of bees:
Only the wild hoarse singing of the airs,
The desolate trumpet of the seas.

Yet triumph high
They feel, those white-winged birds far out at sea.
The green wave's curve is tenderer to the eye
Sometimes than gleam of grass or tree.

And we can share
Those sea-birds' triumph and their wild delight,
Feeling around their plumes the lonely air
And the sweet lonely night.

When trees and flowers
Shine once more on us, they will be quite new,
And other than the old forsaken bowers
Will edge the undreamed-of blue.

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Our only hope
(What hope for love but this?) is just to steer,
While grim sea-breezes rock the quivering rope,
Past reach of eye or ear.

Then when the hills
Rise, faintly glittering on another shore
That unimagined other sunshine fills,—
On whose white cliffs new billows roar,—

With tearful eyes
We shall mark forest-deeps loom forth again
And with a sudden thrilling of surprise
See summer flowers, and without pain.

But out of sight
Of trees and flowers and land to-day are we:
Above us the great star-hung arch of night;
Round us the grey-green wastes of sea.

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LXII. GOD AND MAN

Of old God rested 'mid the heavenly flowers,
Far from all sounds and sights of man's despair:
The blue sky filled with light the deathless bowers
And perfect peace was there.

All pure delights were present to his hand:
The stars at night were ministers sublime:
Joy flooded like a stream the painless land
That took no heed of time.

Far-off man toiled amid the nether gloom,
And woman wept, and death ruled bitterly.
Ruin and dread destruction were man's doom;
To love, and then to die.

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But Love arose and said, “While one man sighs
Shall I contented dwell beyond the gloom?
While sorrow walks the earth with burning eyes
Or shudders at hope's tomb?”

Strong Love stooped downward to the lowest hell,
And made the deepest agony divine.
Love said, “With even the saddest it is well
Now, for their pain is mine.”

And so it came to pass that man arose
And blossoms bloomed upon the paths he trod:
Yet all his joy (though man forgets) he owes
To the deep pain of God.

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LXIII. MUTUAL LOVE

The strength of man first storms the heart:
But in the end the woman gives as well.
Man's love first plays its urgent part;
Man's passion sweeps wide-winged o'er valley and fell.

First man pursues. With strength he seeks:
For months he deems that no response is there.
Then, on a sudden, rose-red cheeks!—
He laughs, and kisses lips and throat and hair.

This is love's reciprocity divine.
Man loves,—and thinks the woman cold:
But her pure heart is learning line by line
Love-lore it may not yet unfold.

Wait. Let the love-god slowly win the heart.
One day the soft eyes full of tears
Will speak a message past the reach of Art;
Yet he may understand who hears.

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LXIV. CONSCIOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS MINISTERS

Some great unconscious ministers Love has:
The stars and roses, and the summer air;
The trefoil lurking 'mid the tufted grass;
The blue flower-jewels in the corn's gold hair.

But man stands forth as minister supreme,
As conscious witness of the life divine,
And says, “The life of God is not a dream;
In very deed God's blood is mixed with mine.”

While lightnings flash, and waves arise and break,
And all creation seems in jeopardy,—
While stormy thunder-throated doubts awake
And spread dark wings o'er lurid wastes of sea,—

Man stands upright, and conscious of his strength
Claims kindred with the Love that holds the helm;
That thrills throughout the universe's length,
And that no thunder-batteries overwhelm.

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LXV. EVEN IN HEAVEN

Not even in heaven, if heaven I e'er attain,
A heaven bestrewed
With flowers of joy, would peace within me reign.
My risen eager spirit would

Stoop downward ever through the golden air
Seeking for thee
And pause e'en in the midst of holiest prayer
If thou hadst need of me.

No high delight of heaven, no towers of gold,
Would make me glad
If thou wert lonely on the earth,—a-cold
And lorn and tired and sad.

Thy lonely look would strike up through the sky:
Thine eyes would reach
Through all the stars and find me. One short sigh
Would move me more than angels' speech.

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LXVI. BEAUTY OF SOUL

Beauty thou hast to thrill the hearts of men:
But wilt thou seek for nothing more?
Not seek the loveliness that lasteth when
Life's loveliness is o'er?

Win thou a glory of sweet heart and mind
As noble as thy face is sweet:
Let me, love-seeking, ever surely find
Christ's eyes when thine I meet.

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LXVII. LOVE UNDREAMED-OF

If I love thee with love surpassing and excelling
All love that song or strange high history hath for telling,
All love-dreams of the past,
Then wilt not thou love me with love that never dreamer
In noblest moments dreamed,—love softer and supremer?
Will thy love-look not seek mine at the last?

If I can bring thee love outweighing and exceeding
The common love of man, wilt thou not hear its pleading
With tenderer than the heart
Of women who are crowned with love that lasts no longer
Than bloom of summer rose? If thus my soul be stronger
Than souls of most, wilt thou not do thy part?

If I bestow on thee a love that knows no ending,
Wilt thou be ever mine, in sweetest purest blending
Of spirit and of mind?

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—That so our souls may teach the world before we quit it
The deathless lore of love, and write, if fate permit it,
Our story in the heart-depths of mankind.

I long to give thee, love, now that the world is aging,
The love that all its growth and life have been presaging:
The love that Dante knew.
Then give thou unto me a heart divinely moulded;
Sweeter than ever yet the touch of love unfolded;
New to my gaze, and in the world's sight new.

319

LXVIII. “THE DIVINE IN THEE”

I

When thou dost watch me with those clear brown eyes
I have the strangest sense
That some immortal spirit from the skies
Watches, with gaze intense.

II

Thou art not woman, but a spirit high
Clothed, here, in woman's form.
I shall not understand thee till I die—
And yet thy lips are warm!—

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III

Thou hast the lips of woman, and her brow,
And thy superb black hair
Maddened me at the first, and maddens now:
And yet thou hast an air

IV

Of subtle spirithood that more than all
Allures and prisoneth me.
I love the woman:—at the feet I fall
Of the divine in thee.

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AN EPITAPH

To beauty's sovereign grace
I would have given, had I the power,
The wide world's every flower,
Each star from God's cloud-girdled dwelling-place.

Now, though the meads in bloom
Beseech me, with most lavish hands
Fast scattering flowers, and all the seas and lands
Bring gifts, I can but place them at a tomb.

1892.