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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at |http: //books .google .com/I !■■. . r /L 1 J AMERICA AND OTHER POEMS I AMERICA AND OTHER POEMS mr W. J. DAWSON AUmOE. OV "ZHE VISION OF SOULS," BIC. NEW YORK— JOHN LANE COMPANY LONDON— JOHN LANE— THE BODLEY HEAD TORONTO — BELL & COCKBTJRN — MCMXIV Copyngbt, 1914, by JOHN LANE COMPANY l> TO CONINGSBY DAWSON THE fat;her to the son We each have found the lost Hesperides, And homeward brought bright fruitage; thine Touched with the magic bloom of morning seas, With the cool light of evening — mine. CONTENTS PAGE America ii Extreme Unction 21 The Kiss 31 The Dream of Kings 39 From the House of Bondage 42 Peace 48 The Last Ride of the Sheik Abdullah ... 51 Salome 55 Blake's Homecoming 67 Cadiz Bay 72 The First-Born 76 Deliverance 78 At a Grecian Altar 80 A Child in Heaven 91 London 96 Departure 98 Emmaus Id In No Man's Land 104 The River of Rest iii The Ending of All Days 113 vu 271079 viii CONTENTS PAGE At Hbr Grave ii6 The Italian in America ii8 Spring Tokens 121 The Whispering Wood 124 The People's Cause 126 A Prayer 130 The Builder 132 Heaven 134 The Child Asleep 136 Nobody EInows 139 The Laughing Maid 141 She Passed at Dawn 144 The Wise Man's Wish 146 The Songs of Youth 148 Earth-Love 150 AMERICA AND OTHER POEMS \ AMERICA Where the many-windowed towers dare the sky And the wizard bridges span the busy sea. Where the many-mated shuttles of the ships Weave the Past into the web of Things to Be; Where the high-suspended cars Braid the night with ropes of stars, And the earth is grooved with arteries of fire; There the City breathes its passion and desire, And I see it stand supreme, Fantastic as a dream. Will it falter? Will it fail? Will it endure? Nay: it standeth very sure. II I^ AMERICA II Thousand-domed the cities line the water- ways, Thousand-leagued the coast-wise sands and forests spread, And city calls to city through the dawns, "Behold the wastes we have inherited! In the ancient dwelling-place Of a long-forgotten race. We deck ourselves with marble and with gold, We plant our feet of steel, our flag of stars unfold. And uplift our strident song Of Triumph to the Strong!'* Will they falter? Will they fail? Will they endure ? Nay : all standeth very sure. AMERICA 13 III Where the lonely huntsman fronts the north- em lights. Where the mountains hang like clouds against the sky. Where the yellow flame of wheatfields, mile on mile. Quivers as the steel-linked cars go rushing by : Where the palm-fringed smooth lagoon Sucks down the Southern moon, Where the white-walled houses flash like sails at sea Upon the gray-green prairie's vacancy, Still I hear the song Of Triumph to the Strong. Will it falter? Will it cease? WilUt endure? Nay: its note is very sure. 14 AMERICA IV From the Volga and the Tiber and the Seas, From the lands of long misrule thy children come, And thou standest like a Shepherd by the fold And numberest thy sheep as they draw home. From the ways of dearth and toil, From the hard penurious soil, Like school-freed children glad they seek thy knees. And find wise liberty in thy decrees. No more disconsolate, They grasp a larger fate; Shall they falter? Shall they find thy free- dom sure? Yea: in truth they shall endure. AMERICA 15 V From the sunset-lands they come, and from the East, From the Tagus, and the Danube, and the Rhine, From the waters ploughed by Norsemen in their pride. From the fiord and the factory, and the mine : Behold a miracle! Within thy crucible The cosmic flame that challenges the sun Transfuses million-varied lives to one! O nation, young and gay. Nation bom within a day. Shall it falter! Shall it cease? Shall it en- dure? Yea : it standeth very sure. l6 AMERICA VI Where the workshop flings its plumes athwart the sky, Where the labouring engines groan as if in pain. Where the low tree-cradled cottage dots the hill. Where the lonely ranchman rides along the plain ; Where the Mississippi flows, ' Where Shasta lifts her snows. Day by day thy far-flung children praise thy name. Forgetful they of days of ancient shame, Of Emperors and Czars, Beneath thy flag of stars. AMERICA 17 Shall they falter? Shall they cease? Shall they endure? Yea: their faith is very sure. VII For a bitter night and day they shall be tried, They shall moan within the cruel hand of greed; But ever when the wrong has wrought its worst Shall arise Redeemers answering to their need. From some backwood Bethlehem Their Christ shall come to them; Thro' the roaring hells of Mammon, by the path l8 AMERICA Of mocking Calvaries, he shall pass on in his wrath. Till his hands have hewn the way To the daylight and the Day. Shall he falter in the strife? Shall he en- dure? Nay : his step is very sure. VIII Where the school-house banner flaunts the morning breeze, Where the rough farm student strides amid the wheat. Where the voice of knowledge fills a thousand halls. Where the athletes in their mimic warfare meet; AMERICA 19 Where the master grasps the brand Of lightning in his hand, And the hidden Powers of Air to service bent Proclaim the issue of the long experiment, I behold the future race Arise in strength and grace; Shall they falter? Shall they fail? Shall they endure? Lo, the onward march is sure. IX With the tempered pride of chastened confi- dence, Level-browed and eager-eyed the race shall be, And their lips shall learn the frugal speech of power. And the braggart boast shall perish utterly. 20 AMERICA False gods of gold and lust Shall crumble into dust; Till, last of all, the nation's King shall come, And on each high-piled capitol and dome, Wherein Right hath suffered loss. Not the Eagle, but the Cross Shall greet obedient peoples and endure- Yea: this end is very sure. EXTREME UNCTION (Avignon) PART I So ends the long confession ; so Begpins the last most mystic rite. God's lily of Dawn begins to grow Out of the stagnant pools of Night. The poplars shiver underneath The pallid stars ; the hooded hills Stand still, like monks, and hold their breath To see the travail God fulfils. 21 22 EXTREME UNCTION Would any think to see her thus. Her face made bright with God's live flame, She hid so many sins from us, Or trod such secret ways of shame ? She lies, palm folded meek on palm. She smiles as they who visions see; • No dying saint drank deeper calm, Nor God's own Mother verily. So have I seen a flower shoot Up golden-hearted, angel-wise. Nor shall one guess what at the root Of hidden putrefaction lies: Nor shall one ask, nor shall one know Thro' what dim depths its fibres range ; « Brother, God willed it even so. And God's world — it is very strange! EXTREME UNCTION 2J First With God's holy oil I touch The eyelids dropped above the eyes Which loved the world's pomps overmuch. Whose vision night and day likewise Was wholly of love's hid delight, Nor knew the wonder of God's grace; May peace fall on them, nor affright Be theirs when they behold God's face. Within them may each picture fade Of old delights, despairs, desires. As fade the faces fancy made In childhood's long-extinguished fires. My daughter, lift thine eyes and see The Holy Rood, the Thorn-crowned Man, — ^Forgotten long, — Who died for thee, And loved thee since the world began. 24 EXTREME UNCTION Likewise I shrive each gate of sense, Each delicate nostril, tender ear; * Gone are thy lovers, gone. Ah whence. Sighs flower-sweet, vows heaven-dear? Gone is thy dream, and unfulfilled ! Gone those for whom thy soul did wait ! O sense that sinned, O sense that thrilled. Behold thy house left desolate ! Is it not written, even thus Daughters of music they shall cease? -Watchers at windows, who for us Made signs of trouble or of peace. These, when is broke the golden bowl Shall vanish in the evening gleam; O dream of Life, O Living Soul, Thyself a Dream within a Dream! EXTREME UNCTION ^5 Next on thy lips my sig^ I make, Full crimson lips they always were That smiled a little when they spake, (Dear God, how sweet the face of her!) Porches of laughter, doors of pain Wherefrom Love turns in fear and flies, Crying, "The clouds pursue the rain. What pleasure have I now in these?" Doors that are shut f orevermore. For mourners go about the street; Red lips that blossomed kisses bore In far-off days when Love was sweet; Red flowers that fall at last to dust, Trodden beneath the feet of men, Lo, He is near. Who blessed the trust And took the kiss of Magdalen! 26 EXTREME UNCTION Open thy hands, I touch these too Which took so fast a hold on sin, All soft-felt touches loved, and knew How the blood leapt and burned therein; Frail hands that pluck the counterpane. That idly flutter to and fro, Lo, Christ stoops low — ^ye may attain To touch His garment ere He go! Next on each foot so swift to run In ways where heavy odours weighed Upon the soul, and God's own sun Pierced faintly thro' the poisonous shade; He, whose tired feet were washed with tears, Now washes thine with oils of grace. That thine may climb beyond the spheres And find the path that finds His face. EXTREME UNCTION 27 And last upcm thy heart, which is As a tense string, on which Death makes Such music of wild woe and bliss It vibrates, and vibrating breaks! Upon thy heart, which knew desire. Its little gain, its bitter loss. Its cnicl insatiable fire, I lay for sign of peace His Cross. So all is done. My daughter, now Look up and see thy place prepared. See how the streets of heaven glow. The fruit of Life with angels shared ! Apostles, martyrs, saints of grace, Each bends toward you a shining head; Be of good cheer ! — ^Ah, Christ ! her face Grows gray, her hands fall — she is dead ! 28 EXTREME UNCTION PART II The cold rain falls upon her grave. The dark night creeps along the eave. Outside she lies where grasses wave And boughs make moan, and tired winds grieve. Outside beneath the river-mist, In that grim bed of doleful rest, The mouth of rose I never kiss't. The slender hands I never press't. Peace, peace, O heart that loved her too, O heart that broke discerning how Too near, too far, too dear she grew Long years ago — O wake not thou! Peace, peace, O heart! Is it not writ That not a sparrow falls, but He Who gave it wings remembers it? ^ Pity of God, remember me ! EXTREME UNCTION 29 The things that were, the things that are I weigh and ponder, knowing well My sin than hers was greater far For love in me was mutable. God pardon me this sweet excess Of late-wise folly that I feel Sin cannot make me love her less. Nor virtue bid me lowlier kneel. I love, but not the love that used Within this heart of flesh to beat Can stir me now ; the cord is loosed. Sunk is the fire and spent the heat. And thou art as the angels, they Who marry not — Christ sayeth so— O dear dead woman teach me the way Of this new love that dead folks know! 30 EXTREME UNCTION Draw near, when day begins to chase Night weeping from the darkened eave; Draw near, thou vision of a Face, With eyes that smile and cannot grieve. Draw near, in faint-spun amethyst Of Dawn, half-hidden, half-confess't, O mouth of rose I never kiss't, O slender hands I never press't! The half-light grows upon the hill. Beneath the hill the waters glide; The air is very sweet and still. And all the Doors of God stand wide. Steal forth and meet me, if you may; Stoop low, O mouth of rose, stoop low; O dear, dead Woman, teach me the way Of this new love that dead folk know. THE KISS (1794) The place is Paris ; the scene, the time. When the Terror spawned her bloody brood. On a certain morning, gray with rime, A woman before her judges stood; Proud and straight, with golden hair Like a crown of glory, she stood there. Friend was she of a martyred queen; Robespierre glared on her and said, "Here's dainty food for the guillotine, Gold looks best when it's mixed with red. Gold-red blood, and blood-gold hair, God, but He made, this woman fair ! 31 32 THE KISS "A shade too pale in the lip maybe, And the scornful mouth of the aristocrat! God's work's good, but you shall see Robespierre can improve on that ! Wait till you watch my flesh-tints grow^ Roses of blood on cheek and brow!" But just as the tumbril at the door Rattled and stopt, out flasht a sword; A man's voice clamoured above the roar Of Robespierre's court, and craved a word; And Robespierre, scenting some novel freak In the daily drama, bade him speak. The court grew still as a windless sea ; With voice a-tremble the man commenced ; THE KISS 33 "Citizen-friends, you all know me, Wounds I have borne unrecompensed. Something have suffered in my task, Nothing have asked, but now I ask. "A soldier-citizen, here stand I Claiming this woman's life — be just! This my price for a pain gone by, Wound of bullet and bayonet-thrust; Also, to make the pact complete. My life for hers — 'tis right and meet. " *Love,' you will say, Trance knows it not, Duty, not love, for hours like this !' Tis well, for she loves me not a jot, Owes me no love, hath given no kiss ; 34 THE KISS These many years I love, but she Knows not love, and loves not me. "Sirs, this woman has been to me France herself incarnated! Citizens, look, and you shall see France herself in that golden head, France in that curling lip, and France In the fire and charm of that proud glance. "Loved in triumph, adored in shame, Poet, prophetess, priestess Thou, Guarding the deathless altar-flame, Wearing the thorn-crown on thy brow. Mocking the mockers who made thy pain, Dying, ever to rise again: THE KISS 35 "France, with the deep dream-weighted eyeS, France, with the calm brows fronting fate, Beautiful, passionate, foolish, wise. Here thou standest incarnate. Thou and this woman one, — and I Dying for her who must not die!'* The man's voice ceased, and a hum went round The crowded court. Then Robespierre Lifted his cruel eyes from the ground And glanced round furtively, half-aware And half -resolved how the tide would flow; Then took it, and said, "She's free — ^may go !" Until that moment the woman had stood Immobile, scornful, marble-cold. 36 THE KISS Now, with a hot, quick rush of blood Life came back and the current rolled Delicious thro' every vein; she seemed The rose-red goddess poets have dreamed. Glowed and melted her countenance, Her eyes fulfilled with happy tears; Slowly she spake, as in a trance, "He saith he hath loved me many years. No kiss he hath ever won, he saith, Yet he hath loved me unto death !" Sideways she bent, moved forth a pace, Then, sudden she cross't the clamorous room, Her eyes leapt out in one long embrace On his, and brought him love and doom, THE KISS 37 She stooped her glorious golden head And kissed the man — ^and he fell dead. Which would you choose if you might choose. The fate of woman or the man? Give me the man's life, tho' it lose Joy in the moment it began; Give me the death that is quick and sweet In the hour when life appears complete. For him, and for me too, I will trust, No watching the light fade gleam by gleam; No time for the fair to fall in dust. For evil to cloud and spoil the dream : And never to know that pain of pain To have wearied of dreams and found them vain. 3^ THE KISS I envy the man, for in that hour he Knew his impossible hope was true. He lost the world for a kiss, but she Lo3t him; and, as each fades out of view, I see him wrapt in a blaze of bliss. She — kissing dead lips that cannot kiss. THE DREAM OF KINGS Dead Kings in the dust are hid Pharaoh in his Pyramid, Caesar sleeps no man knows where, Alexander's tomb is bare, Bonaparte lies robed in lead, All the foes he fought are dead. Of their conquests all they keep Is a place wherein to sleep. Gone the purple insolence Of their brief omnipotence; Gone the legions that they hurled Half across a flaming world ; 39 40 THE DREAM OF KINGS All the trumpets shouting war Penetrate not where they are ; Glory's torch that led them on. Pride that mocked oblivion. All are darkened, all are gone. Humbler now the dreams they have. Each within his mighty grave; Caesar, wheresoever he lies Dreams of Cleopatra's eyes; Alexander craves the grace Of Roxana's tender face; Bonaparte with passion keen Turns again to Josephine ; Each toward the other yearns, Glory gone, lo, Love returns. THE DREAM OF KINGS 4^ Dead Kings in the dust are hid, Yet within the Pyramid, Monument of Glory's lust. Hands of dust seek hands of dust ; Quite forgotten crown and state; Pomp of power, fear of fate; Still remains one subtler bliss, Sweetness of some woman's kiss. All that life has left them — ^this ! FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE O, WHEN will ye let us go? We have toiled and are not fed, Scant our wages, sour our bread ; Parched and smitten of the sun Ours is labour never done. Bricks we fashion without straw. Blows we suffer without law, We are minished and brought low, O when will ye let us go? Ah, how sad the years and slowf What is this that ye have said, "Depart ye when your debt is paid ?" 42 FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 43 Wherewithal have we to pay? Ye have taken the light of day. Taken hope, and strength, and life, Taken children, home and wife; Is there any further woe? O when will ye let us goT Up, and down, and to and fro We see long processions move; Maidens garlanded with love. Youths who know the joy of youth. Priests who talk of right and truth! Not for us the lover's bliss, Lips that whisper, mouths that kiss. Nor the mind that seeks to know — O when will ye let us go? 44 FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE Once, but very long ago, So we heard our fathers say, They rose up at dawn of day. Saw the sun, a shining disc. Gild the feathered tamarisk. Rode forth free and sang their psalm By the river-rooted palm; No such joy their children know — O when will ye let us go? Song is for the free, we trow. Worship for the heart at ease. Prayer for those who dwell in peace, God for those who have not trod Thro' the Hell that knows not God! We, in strange lands wandering. Songs of Zion cannot sing, FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 45 This the only song we know — O when will ye let tis go? Near the waters, where they flow. We have seen the refuse-heap. Refuse no man cares to keep! Chard and fragment, there they He Quiet in their infamy! Chard and fragment, such are we. Quiet all we yearn to be; Cast us forth, and even so Let us go J O let us go! Now there falls the evening glow, Now the solemn temple's built. Porch of stone and roof of gilt. Enter in, O eager throng, Flame- faced priest and child of song! 46 FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE As for US, we have not sought Entrance to the house we wrought ; Humbler coveting we know — Only this, O let us go! Now there dies the mason's blow, Lingering on the sunset air; Now is built, proportioned fair, All the marriage-house we raised. Lo, we ask not to be praised; Enter ye, and fragrant lie On your beds of ivory; We, too dulled by work and woe. Only cry, O let us go! Now there passes, moving slow. Torch-lit to the Pyramid, He from whom all things are hid. FROM THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 47 Lo, the corpse by love home-lit. We behold and envy it! Lo, the dead, the Thing he is, We would fain be even this! Mighty death, thou art no foe. Thou last Friend, O let us go! God hath brought us very low, Minished and brought low are we. Things of naught and shame we be! Bricks we fashion without straw. Blows we suffer without law; Hear us, Gk)d, whom none will heed, Out of Hell we fruitless plead; Thou, Who knowest things are so. Strike Thine hour, and let us go. PEACE Peace? Not till the wrath of the sea is ended and past; And folded the wings of the thunder that troubled the world! Not till the final bolt of the Lightning is flash't Shall the winds be at rest, and the banners of Tempest be furled ! Then when the" havoc is done, Shall rise the innocent Sun, And the Sea and the Dead shall have peace! Peace ? Not till the com is laid low and the land is aflame 43 PEACE 49 And the red wine of War is drunk to its bitterest drop; Not till the bruised breasts of Freedom are healed of their shame, Not till the city is void shall the Plague- Angel stop! Then, when the Martyrdom's done, Shall rise the ignorant Sim, And the Land and the Dead shall have peace ! Peace? Not while the arrow that flies at noonday is feared. Not while the pestilence poisons and darkens the night; Not while the innocent flesh with anguish is seared, so PEACE Not while at eventide weary ones cry for the light ! Then, when the Torture is done, Shall rise the insolent Sun, And the Dead and the Living have peace ! THE LAST RIDE OF THE SHEIK ABDULLAH Into the desert, into the desert All alone I ride! At last the clamour of tongues is still. The fever of living, the strife of will. The doors of the old sick life flung wide Let me out, and thus I ride. The City smokes like a fire of leaves Fallen and burned its laurelled pride; Grief runs moaning under its eaves ; But over my head God's whiteness glides, Under my feet the wide world slides. It is earth that runs back like a tide, 51 52 THE LAST RIDE OF THE SHEIK ABDULLAH And heaven comes rushing up as I ride, As into the desert I ride. Still, as never was city or sea, Empty of man or house or tree. The desert lies round me as I ride; The blue sky shuts down eVeryivhere Close on the earth, the quivering air Parts like a flame that winds divide. And closes behind me as I ride. Ah, Joy of Freedom ! Let me ride Far from the world I have denied. Forever and ever on, still on. Till all the stars that flickered and shone Have fallen behind me, one by one. Till I touch the blue steep wall of air, And suddenly draw rein at God's stair. THE LAST RIDE OF THE SHEIK ABDULLAH 53 Coming on Heaven unaware. As over the desert I ride. Caged and tamed for many a day,. In the world's market hot and gray, I have danced, a puppet, to pipes that play A mirthful tune that mirth belied ; A wilder music now salutes My soul, and runs around life's roots. Like silver rain that melts the sod. Hark! how the sands around me hum. And all the stretched sky, like a drum, Throbs at the finger-touch of God, As into the desert I ride. I will ride right on to God's feet, For my heart is strong, my camel fleet ; 54 THE LAST RIDE OF THE SHEIK ABDULLAH I will ride on and never stop Till at His palace stair I drop. When Azrael standeth wonder-eyed, In one last venture quenching thirst For freedom lost in the years accurst Which barren as sand behind me lie; On to the rim of the utmost sky I ride as I die, I die and ride! The earth slides under me like a tide, My life runs out of me as I ride, I ride right into Eternity; Azrael stoops to let me by, Like a torn curtain hangs the sky. Heaven upon its other side! And so I ride, I die as I ride, I ride and die. SALOME (Singing) Grasp the world, O hands of mine. Little hands that hold the world — Press it, till it flows in wine. Fling it from thee, like the curled Grape-skin, when its use is done — See the magic goblet shine. Red with blood and bright with sun — So I drink — the draught is mine! {Speaking) Not that I care so much, but who could tell The issue, like a hungry lightning glare 55 S^ SALOME Flasht from clear heavens? I never danced so well, That said he, said they all. I feel my hair Stir still with magic motions, perfumed wind Lashed into eddies, beating on the bare Smooth limbs and breast ; and then I throw behind, Over my shoulder, so, a sudden glance. And catch their faces smitten by its light Into a hungrier circle. Then I smile. And suddenly all the spirit of the dance Consumes me, rends me, blots and blurs my sight With a fiery wind, their great eyes all the while Burning yet closer, eating into my heart. SALOME 57 Who cares what comes J There's nothing good nor vile. The world whirls round, I'm lifted like a part Of a giant whole; a spirit's in my feet. He rends my raiment, shakes my black hair down. Smites my lips into song, so shrill and sweet It frightens me. Ah, that's my own, my own! Limbs, hair, song, face, I know to-night to be Most beautiful. Look, my lords, there's a foot Worthy a throne at least! What's the decree ? Half of his kingdom Herod g^ves to me? L SS SALOME I cannot tell; but all the great lamps shoot .An angry light, and suddenly, like a tide. The fire runs out of my heart, and still I stand As though I had never moved; and there's a hand Laid on me, and Herodias, crafty-eyed. Is buzzing at my ear. \ Good and ill, meref colors these. Take of each as thou shalt please. Purple grape or yellow — thine; Each alike shall make life's wine. See the magic goblet shine. Drink thy fill, and take thy ease. SALOME 59 (Speaking) What's man after all? Is flesh so dear ^ That I should tremble? Yes, we feed on men. You and I, mother ; that's a woman's part — Glare on them, kiss them, draw them near, and then Leave their bones to the vulture. That's the art You've taught me, and I have not learned amiss: I'll snare a Caesar some day — ^there's a prey Worthy the aim. I ever took as bliss The sight of death. Heart of me! many a day How I have clapped my hands to see the play. 6o SALOME When the stripped gladiators hewed and hacked And made the sand red. Once a man I saw Just at my feet, torn by the lion's paw. His shoulder bare to the boile, beseeching me In a hoarse voice that was so shrill and cracked I laughed outright. 'Twas god-like sport to see The great beast leap, his angry mane like fire Flashing about his ears, the downward stroke Of the great foot striking into the mire The man like a mouse, with his back torn and broke; And I — I called for more — ^more lions, more men : SALOME 6l That tawny beast who glares in yonder den, Pit him against a score, the supplest score Of slaves who ever trembled ! Ah, the long day, Would it had lasted longer ! Evermore The same big pulse sending delicious thrills Through the swoU'n veins, when the eye caught the ray Of the sharp sword, and heard the lion roar Over his prey, like thunder in the hills. And Herod, you remember, all the day Sleepily watched, quickening a little bit When the men died, till through the nar- row slit Of his heavy lids you saw there burned a flame 62 SALOME Eager as mine, whose passion went and came Like a strong madness, till I longed to hurl You, and your Herod, and all the people down Into the sand, and watch the bloody whirl — I, on the topmost turret's slippery stone. Standing triumphant in the wind, alone. Watching you fight and die. There, do not frown. That's but a fancy. What was it you said? This man, this John the Baptist: well, I own I care not if he be alive or dead; Let him rot slowly, or be slain, or choke ; But why should / strike the stroke? SALOME 63 I saw him once : dark like a thunder-rack He lowered in the outer court, his eyes, jet black. Burned with a flame no other eyes e'er had ; His voice like a trumpet, angry, somewhat sad. Calling, Repent: I wonder what he meant? There he stood garbed in skins, his shoul- ders bent, Black hair like mine, but grizzled and un- kempt, Looking around with something like con- tempt Or pity, with a fixed, clear, eager gaze. As one who saw right through the sunlight's blaze 64 SALOME Into the place beyond, where there are hatched The viper-lightnings: so he stood and watched. He moved me for a moment, made me feel A strange deep thrill, I never could think why, But you — ^you hate him with a hate so real, I would not wonder if that same deep eye Spied something now: or if those same thin lips Loosed on you their sharp hail. I've heard it said If you say ''John" to Herod, he bows his head. SALOME 6$ And his puffed face grows dark, as though eclipse Breathed in the presence of a hated name. Well, let him die : I never liked to see Men whose eyes smote you with that kind of flame : But why insist he die so secretly? Now I would bring him in, call Tertius, Make them both fight — ^there, in that marble space ; Think of what jest the two would make for us! Only I must confess that solemn face Might spoil the banquet with its angry eyes ; So why not save him for the lions ? 'Twere wise 66 SALOME To keep a man like that; be sure he'd fight Beyond the best. 'Tis hardly worth the light To kill him secretly; we shall not see Whether he quail or frown. But let it be. We want no thunder-clouds round Herod's board ; Let them go quickly, bring the head ab- horred. And since you dare not bear it — why, let me! (Singing) Life and death meet in one cup. Good and evU nuike the wine; See the magic goblet shine. Take the draught, and drink it up. ^i^m. BLAKE'S HOMECOMING There was sorrow on the sea, All the way, all the way! Home we came with fame, but he Dying, dying all the way. At Santa Cruz the squadron lay. At dawn the whisper flew "God be thanked we sail today!" Voices sang and trumpets blew. All the fleet was like a fair, "Pulley haul, and heave, yo ho! 67 68 blare's homecoming Ready here and steady there, Let her go. Head her northward thro' the bay! "Send the wind, O God be kind !" Volleying from the south it came. With the thunder packed behind. So we sailed with seas aflame. Fire-led, like the Israelite, Cloud-defended, so we sailed; Trumpets blowing day and night Shrilled and hailed. And God rode upon the wind. "Waken,** hear the seaman cry, "Waken, Captain, England's near!" Blake's homecoming 69 Grayer grew the sea and sky, Nor^west all the land rose clear. Dim-eyed, worn with wounds and care. On the heaving deck sat Blake, Tell me where is England, where ?*' So he spake, "Let me see her ere I dieP' it Now the Lizard's past, and lo All the Cornish hills rise red In the Autumn's after-glow. "Heaven," was the one word he said. "England and not Heaven," we cried. " 'Tis the same," he made reply. Bonfires blazed out far and wide, Lit the sky AH the way to Pljnnouth Hoe! 70 blake's homecoming Fair the wind and swift the tide; Ah, the English air is sweet! People shouted, trumpets cried ; Then he rose upon his feet. Strove to see, but he was blind, Strove to walk, but force was spent, V Felt upon his face the wind. Smiled content. Tasting English air — and died! Hush the trumpets ! Cease the din ! Shores of England, be ye dumb! He is gone, some port to win Where your praises cannot come. On the other side for him Blow God's trumpets, clear and far. Blake's homecoming 7^ See his soul pass, fading dim Like a star! Shores be still! He enters in. There was glory on the sea, All the way, all the way! Home we came with fame, but he Dying, dying all the way. CADIZ BAY You remember Cadiz Bay? There the water shoals away, Spouts and tumbles, green as grass. Greener water never was. Red and yellow spreads the land. Pink and yellow spreads the sand ; Like a bubble on the swell Rides the glittering citadel. And beyond it, flower-bright. Piled up windows take the light. Sailing through the gates of day. Thus I saw fair Cadiz town 72 CADIZ BAY 73 With the blue hills looking down, Cadiz town by Cadiz Bay. Raleigh sailed into this Bay Long since when the dawn was gray ; Fought till eve the Spanish dons. Broke their high-built galleons, "Now," quoth he, "I think I hear Old Sir Richard calling clear, *Here die I, at set of sun. Joyous, for my duty's done!' Over Cadiz, like a flame, Bums Sir Richard's glorious name; On the poop of Heaven he stands, See him— lifting crimson hands! Hear him — 'Thus I led the way; Who for England dies today?' Thus spake he in Cadiz Bay." 74 CADIZ BAY Two long centuries pass away; Sailing into Cadiz Bay Comes another admiral. Bravest he, where brave were all. "Duty — let the word flame far, "Starriest word, be thou our star! "Burn aloft amid the gloom, "Light Us to the hero's tomb; "This day every man shall do "His duty!" So, on that great day The exultant signal flew All the length of Cadiz Bay. O my England, old and gray. You'll remember Cadiz Bay? Here the voice of England spake, Here came Raleigh, Nelson, Blake, CADIZ BAY 75 Spake triumphant, glorious came, With shouting crews and ships aflame. Riding down the water-way, Proud as on a marriage day! You'll remember that great youth When you fought for realm and truth; And we, O curs't be we, and let Our tongues be dumb if we forget! Puissant still, by all defied, England, for whom Nelson died. Front thy fate! Arise and be What thou wert, nor fear to play Thy mighty part ! The Victory With thy pennon flying free. Lords it still in Cadiz Bay! THE FIRST-BORN The bitterest and the gladdest hour it was! I stood at the stair's foot, and heard your cry Pierce thro' the house. Upon the slanting glass The setting sun made splendour, and I watched Him sink with eyes that nothing saw. Again A moment's space the chamber-door unlatched Let out your moanings, and I bitterly Bowed down, and trembled at your voice of pain. Eternity seemed crowded in that hour; All thought and passion, faculty and power, Was quickened and intense : the veil of gross 76 THE FIRST-BORN 77 And faulty apprehension was withdrawn And left the naked heaven of infinite things Close to me, like a throbbing heart. More close I felt thy spirit, and I cried, "What now If she be passing out on angel's wings?" Just then the sun sank to his other dawn. And, as his rim burned down in final glow, I heard a new voice in the house, the cry Of the new-bom, whose kindling human light Rose on our lives, and, please God, by-and-by. Shall shine afar athwart the world's dim night. When you and I in our dark rest shall lie. DELIVERANCE In that sore hour around thy bed there stood A silent guard of shadows, each equipped With dart or arrow aimed against thy life; Thy breath came slowly all that awful night! Outside I heard the Wind and Earth at strife, And on the window's ledge incessant dripped The pitiless rain. At last I left thy room, And, passing out, upon the threshold's edge Whom should I meet but Death ! A wan clear light Fell from his fathomless eyes; his brow was gloom. His rustling raiment seemed to sigh like sedge 78 DELIVERANCE 79 When the salt marsh winds wail and beat thereon. He paused, he turned; and while I stood and wept. Behold a crimson signal waved and shone On the door's lintel, — even such an one As he obeyed in Egypt — ^and I knew Death heard some higher summons and with- drew. When I returned, like a tired child you slept. AT A GRECIAN ALTAR Pale brow, no crown adorning, Dim eyes that cannot see, Face lifted up for scorning, What empire calls for Thee? What token dost Thou show me, By what sign may I know Thee, What homage do I owe Thee, That Thou persuadest me? Where wasting water floweth To the unwasting sea, When Aphrodite goeth Foam-garlanded and free, 80 ^ AT A GRECIAN ALTAR 8l Where Tritons sport at leisure, And all things move in measure To a sonorous pleasure, O who shall turn to Thee? Where shining towers of laurel Guard all the flower-fresh lea, And, pale with amorous quarrel. Or, flushed with ecstasy. Daphne flies from Apollo, By woodland height and hollow And racing Cupids follow, What place is this for Thee? Yet, when the laurel bumeth, And grief comes suddenly. When joy no more retumeth. Nor song to the gray sea; 82 AT A GRECIAN ALTAR When shadows come and thicken. And hope itself doth sicken. And hearts no longer quicken To flutes of Arcady : When men flee as a shadow That fades and shall not be; When mist lies on the meadow And pain moans in the sea; When love grows tired of giving, And mortal wills of striving. And life itself of living, Then Thou persuadest me! Yet fair was man and woman. By that Leucadian sea. Then gods themselves were human With cheerful gaiety; AT A GRECIAN ALTAR B3 Heedless of past or morrow, They knew not how to borrow From hours of sin long sorrow As Thou of Galilee. Earth mixed itself with heaven, Man spake with deity. Nor felt thro' sombre even The weight of things to be; Day brought no hours of weeping, Nor toil, nor fruitless reaping. And night brought quiet sleeping Of fulfilled infancy. And so man lived contented Dream-rich and vision-free, Had naught that he repented. Was naught he would not be ; 84 AT A GRECIAN ALTAR Made gods of his own nature, Grew to his perfect stature, A half-divine glad creature Of sun and wood and sea; Till, undesired, Thou earnest Pale god of agony; With sudden words Thou flamest > Upon the crimson sea. And on the dawn came wailing. And clouds of darkness sailing. And wrath, and bitter railing, And broken melody. The woods that knew the waters Where Naiades moved free. The hills that knew the daughters Of Bacchanalian glee. AT A GRECIAN ALTAR 85 The dales and groves, dew-gleaming, That saw the gracious seeming Of fair Endymion's dreaming. Grew sad because of Thee! With slow maimed feet Thou leadest Thy grief -worn company, With hollow voice Thou pleadest That man should follow Thee. What token dost Thou show me. By what sign may I know Thee, What homage do I owe Thee, That Thou persuadest me? Yet when to me, not prayerless, The gods indifferent be; When love itself, grown careless. Proves its inconstancy; 86 AT A GRECIAN ALTAR I hear Thy step behind me, I would some god might find me. Aye, Lord, subdue and bind me. And love me utterly. The vain gods pass; they care not For human misery. They kill, they smite, they spare not. All cruel and cold they be. Their brows are clothed with thunder. Their feet are shod thereunder With flame that burns asunder Clasped hands they do not see. With grief they will not tarry. Nor do they care that we Such bitter burdens carry Thro' days that bitter be. AT A GRECIAN ALTAR 87 They mock with mirth our mourning. They smite us without warning. Their mouths are filled with scorning, Their hearts with enmity. But Thou, more gently fashioned, Hast conquered agony; Thou stand'st serene, impassioned. Lord of calamity! Thine eyes, all grief confessing, Are full of quiet blessing; Thy wounds, on my wounds pressing. Change pain to ecstasy. When Joy flies as a shadow That fades and shall not be; When mist lies in the meadow And grief moans on the sea; 88 AT A GRECIAN ALTAR Then, by the peace Thou sharest. By that dim crown Thou wearest. By that red Cross Thou bearest. Thou call'st my soul to Thee. For Grief shall outlast laughter, And pain hold bliss in fee; And what love follows after To where all dead men be? And who, and by what vision, Shall shield from death's decision. Or call from fields Elysian His lost Eurydice? Yea, who, when sad eyes fall on Sad eyes that cannot see; When fruitless voices call on Closed ears, closed utterly; AT A GRECIAN ALTAR 89 When love is turned to sadness, And memory to madness. Shall give me back the gladness Whereof Time spoileth me? Not Pan whose pipes are broken By that Ionian sea, Where Thamos heard words spoken Of gods in agony. Nor Zeus, who long hath slumbered. Nor Bacchus, vine-encumbered. Nor n3miphs, nor fauns unnumbered Of laughing Arcady. But Thou, all anguish proving Thereby hast victory! Thou conquer'st hate by loving. Thro' bondage art made free; SK) AT A GRECIAN ALTAR Fate's master thro' complying With Fate: Joy's lord thro' sighing; Death's vanquisher by dying, Lord, Thou persuadest me. A CHILD IN HEAVEN I NEVER dreamed that God could need A child so small as this; I quite forgot, until God spoke That this, my child, was His. I said, "My child shall dwell with me, From Life's dawn to Life's even," And God replied, "The child is Mine, And he shall dwell in Heaven." Death never heard such tiny hands Grope on his massy doors ; God never saw such tiny feet Move up His golden floors. 91 92 A CHILD IN HEAVEN Scarce from his mother was he weaned. Scarce felt her soft embraces, When he must walk alone, unscreened. Thro' these wide heavenly places. This room's length was his continent. His treasured bliss — ^this toy! What did he know, what could he do In that ethereal joy? Crowns for the saint, palms for the pure. For these be fitting blisses; But what for him, whose gain secure Was just — ^his mother's kisses? Here is the cradle where he lay. White as his innocence. No hand hath touched it since the day God stooped and took him hence. A CHILD IN HEAVEN 93 » And here the empty breast whereon He drank of joys and sorrows, And dreamed his dreams — ^Alas, my son! — Of unfulfilled tomorrows. "Mother of God" — Some hope I find In that remembered word; Thou, on whose breast the sweet Child lay Who brought thy heart the sword, Did'st thou not see my little son, Did'st thou not smile to meet him, With kisses on thy mouth did'st run To welcome him and greet him? m. It must be so; for saints the palm, But what for those who wait, Mere mothers who with wistful eyes Watch at the crystal gate? 94 A CHILD IN HEAVEN O, too austere for childish gaze The throne of the Eternal, A lonely child up Heaven's wide ways Comes seeking the maternal! Yet let me think; was there no grief God tasted in that hour When from His breast the Son went forth On whom Death should have power? Down thro' the void alone He trod. While stars sang loud evangels : But round the secret place of God There stood the weeping angels. There stood the angels, veiled and dumb. And Heaven laid down its mirth, Remembering One, so far away. The Son of God on earth! A CHILD IN HEAVEN 95 Father of the Beloved Son To earthly exile given, Help me to say, "Thy will be done,' I have a child in Heaven. 99 LONDON I LOVE this London with a love half hate, Fall'n Angel thou, all scarred with starry fires! Mistress and foe of souls disconsolate, Centre and grave of all man's mad desires, Heaven of the happy, and the sad man's Hell, Imperial harlot, mirthful in thy woe. Wise, tragic, foolish, imperturbable, O wherefore, wherefore should I love thee so? Yet so it is, so it must ever be! No quiet hills can win me to their peace ; 96 LONDON 97 I hear thy tumult in the strenuous sea. Thy wind-blown Hghts outshine the Plei- ades! Freed from my chain, for Bondage still I yearn, I fly from thee, detest thee, and return. DEPARTURE There's a silence on the meadows, there's a kindness in the trees. There's a smiling dew of tears upon the grass, And the flowers lean their petals and brush against my knees. And the myrtles stoop toward me as I pass. For they know, ah, well they know That today from them I go. There's a beauty in the City that I never saw before, And the old gray spires are built of sapphire flame, 98 DEPARTURE 99 And the dingy streets are changed, each one a jasper floor, Like the city John saw, Jerusalem its name — • For it knows, ah, it doth know That today from it I go. And the faces of the men and women in the street. And the toilers and the ragged boys at play. Are kindly-eyed and fair, are serious and sweet. Friendly-featured as I go away today ; For they know, ah, yes they know That today from them I go. I never thought to miss them, the old familiar ways, Happy-hearted I was minded to depart. •• t r »• • - • 100 DEPARTURE But now the softened music of those separated days Haunts my dreams at night, and fills my heart. For I know, ah, now I know What it costs me thus to go. 4 « EMMAUS At night across the fens we walked, — The large round moon hung low — And I grew silent as you talked. Until at last the brook's dull flow. The Spring wind moving to and fro. Spoke loudest as we walked. I did not speak, — ^you wondered why — For you that night were gay, With jest and jibe that craved reply, Your wit made scornful mock and play Of creeds your life had cast away. And I was silent — why? lOI 102 ■ EMMAUS I tell you now: against tfie moon A Tree rose black and tall, Whereon I saw, as clear as noon, A Man, who did for pity call ; Could I approach with spear and gall That Cross against the moon? I tell you now: One walked with me, Who put His hands in mine. And touched me very tenderly: Be He all human or divine, Or how the God and man combine I know not — ^but He walked with me. I tell you now: One stooped to me. And drew my lips to His; EMMAUS 103 He led me out to Galilee, And bade my heart not faithless be, And gave me the disciple's kiss, You mocked Him — but He stooped to me. At night across the fens we walked. The large round moon hung low — All silently to me He talked. Until I heard the quiet flow Of water He hushed long ago. When on the waves He walked. IN NO MAN'S LAND Behold me, brother, about to die! Eton watched my mind expand, Oxford saw my hopes Hame high, London broke my manhood's strength : Slow I sank, till here at length I found this innocent infamy Of board and bed in No Man's Land. Judge, brother, if I fear to die! I loved mankind, and none did hate; But in me thrived no faculty Of friendship; I have never known A soul that truly touched my own; 104 IN NO man's land 105 LrO, this was my infirmity, My torture also, and my fate. Judge, brothers, if this world seem sweet! By many roads I sought to rise; Men thrust aside my halting feet. Until at last my strength was spent, And I, assured incompetent. Was driven like dust about the street. Beneath a city's scornful eyes. Of all the things which I have done. If one were perfect of its kind Content were I to leave the sun: But nothing has been perfectly Wrought to the aim which tortured me; In common grooves my life has run, Nor ever answered to my mind. I06 IN NO man's land Like one, who hears a haunting sound Of music, magically wrought, Which floats above him and around ; Who follows breathless, but in vain O'er hill and moor — so I, with pain Have toiled thro' life's enchanted ground. Some seek and find: I only sought. Some incommunicable heat Of high desire alone was mine; Some hidden stubborn pulse that beat Somewhere within the heart or brain. And stung me with its fruitless pain; The heart to race — ^but lame the feet. The will, but not the power to shine. IN NO man's land 107 So, steadily down to No Man's Land I sank; put angry shame aside. Relinquished friendship's slack'ning hand, And made an end of hope and trust. Making no question things were just; Sometimes, too, saw the Happy stand FarHDff, all rainbow-clad — ^and sighed! But now all's over. On the stair Down which there slides the last lean rat. There waits a g^est, benign and fair. Come in, O Death! The roof is low. But lower that to which we go. And if the room be cold and bare. Thou sure wilt not complain of that. io8 IN NO man's land At least 'tis no unusual fate To drink the bitter cup and die. All generations, soon or late, Tread the same much-frequented road ; Here Caesar stumbled with his load Of fame; here, wild and passionate, Pale Cleopatra, Antony! Alike the anguish! He who first Did taste of Death might cry to God In terror, when upon him burst The void and darkness infinite; But now our eyes grow used to night; Nor can we wholly count accurst So known a fate, so thronged a road. IN NO man's land 109 Fog-blurred, the dawn comes wearily, I hear far-oflf the scolding wheel Grind on the iron rails, I see The dim host in the dissonant street March out to toil with dragging feet; Brothers, do ye not envy me. That I no longer strive nor feel? Poor fool of time advance, advance! Long since hast thou been done with hope, Long known thine insignificance; One lesson more — that this vast whole Ignores the individual soul; Ask not for any further chance, Nor wish a life of wider scope. no IN NO man's land Behold me, broken on Fortune^ s wheel! Eton saw my mind expand, Oxford did my soul unseal, London, imperturbable. Saw me burn in her lowest Hell. Released at last from woe and weal I sink in the dust of No man's Land! THE RIVER OF REST To lie in meadow grasses, Earth beneath my head, With silken winds to cover me Is a sufficient bed. Blue darkness is my canopy, Dim trees my watchers are, And for a night-lamp at my couch God lights a special star. To hear a river talking All the soft night through. Makes all my griefs orchestral And God seem near and true. Ill 112 THE RIVER OF REST To hear beneath the grasses The dead with quiet breath Recount the roads they traversed, Makes me in love with Death. For kings in ivory houses Beneath a golden dome The grave seems very terrible, To me — 'tis coming home. And when beneath these grasses I lie secure from change, If God should kiss me on the lips I should not think it strange. THE ENDING OF ALL DAYS * This is the doorway where we parted, This is the creaking garden gate; The roses climbed here, sanguine-hearted, The thrushes sang here soon and late. Here we stood on that last morning. Here in the sunlit garden ways. And the roses never gave me warning It was the ending of all days. Here, where the jasmine hides the lattice, She gave a last sweet look to keep; That was her gracious way, and that is The white room where she fell asleep. "3 114 THE ENDING OF ALL DAYS I Spoke to her here of quick returning When I had crowned myself with bays, And never a voice cried thro' my yearning, "This is the ending of all days." If they had known, — ^the sanguine roses. If I had known,^— O fond blind eyes! But who hears the rosebud when it closes ? Who in Tomorrow's truth is wise? The roses would not speak to grieve her, The birds sang happiest roundelays, And I — ^thus lightly did I leave her, — It was the ending of all days. This is the doorway where we parted, This is the creaking garden gate. And a cold wind wanders broken-hearted Over the flowers, and cries "Too late." THE ENDING OF ALL DAYS "5 This IS the path by which they bore her, Here, where the single sunbeam strays; Was it with roses strewn before her?— Unto the ending of all days. AT HER GRAVE Sixteen at most was she Flower-fair, slender; Never were hands so slight, Never so tender. I saw in sunset clouds Robes to beseem her ; She, with a clearer eye, Saw her Redeemer. One day she went from me ; Then fell the Shadow, Mournful the sun appeared. Dreary the meadow. ii6 AT HER GRAVE 1 17 Next day the sun came back. Dearer and clearer; Since then it seems to me •God has drawn nearer. THE ITALIAN IN AMERICA He stood beside the curving track. And watched the thundering cars rush by; Then to his task he bent his back. And thought a little, bitterly, Of many things that he had not. And the strange ventures of his lot 4(T9 IVe bread enough to spare," he said, "Why should my heart be so forlorn?" Too well he knew. He bowed his head; "O for the house where I was bom, The vineyards and the fields of maize. The olive trees that knew my ways : ii8 THE ITALIAN IN AMERICA "9 "The song of women thro' the vines, The jests with which they greeted us. The red moon netted in the pines, The bells that rang the Angelus, The low-breathed word, more sweet than prayer. Of her who waited for me there. "O for the roads not built of steel, The skies that on my youth looked down. The far-off gold-crowned Campanile, The cnmibling, many-gated town. The poplared pleasant Lombard plain Which I shall never see again/' He stood beside the curving track And said these tender things; but I 120 THE ITALIAN IN AMERICA Saw Time's vast curtain lifted back. And all the centuries rushing by; Along the track the legions came With brazen eagles wrought of flame. For so they mourned-t-the sentinel Upon the tower beside the Tweed, Those armies imperturbable That served great Caesar at his need ; And he, of Rome's imperial race, Looked at me with tired Caesar's face. He stood beside the road he made. As they long since, whose flesh is grass. And saw, along the rock-hewn grade The Empire-bearing chariots pass ; And Caesar's ghost, when night fell dim Approved his work, and smiled on him. SPRING TOKENS How slow the Spring climbs up the world To tired eyes, half-despairing! Sweet April walks with shrouded face, And Winter's garb is wearing. Fair violets, from some summer place, They're selling in the city : But still the north wind blows, and blows ; It blows and has no pity. The swallow long ago had come If wishes could begtiile it, But still the swallow holds aloof. He's wiser than the violet. 121 122 SPRING TOKENS The cautious swallow love? us not. He fears to venture near us, The violet only loves enough To die that it may cheer us. The north winds blow, but thro' the world A pulsing movement quivers. As underneath dead ice one hears The flow of living rivers. And in the violet, gentle flower, Strong summer's meek adorer. The whole wide woodlands' scent is stored, June's fragrance blown before her; — As when before my lady comes. For whom my love is waiting. SPRING TOKENS 123 A subtle essence fills the air Her presence intimating. By these sure signs I know today Tho' all is bleak and frozen, The Spring is near; she sends for pledge The violet — ^her first cousin. THE WHISPERING WOOD I FIND within the whispering wood No sign of fairy, pard, or elf; A holier mystery moves the blood, I hear God talking to Himself. Like breath that flows and ebbs, like sighs Of wordless deep intense delight, I hear the sacred monodies God utters to Himself at night. t< O happy, happy things that move, O happy birds that fly or nest, Contented with a little love And thankful for a little rest! 124 THE WHISPERING WOOD 1^5 "What I have made is very good, Good every tiniest thing that walks !" Even so amid the whispering wood Within Himself God broods and talks. THE PEOPLE'S CAUSE O People, will you never know your power. Nor seize the earth, your just inheritance? Lo, Babylon is fallen, dome and tower. And broken Egypt's ancient dominance : Tyre broodeth, widowed by her sailless sea. O'er Nineveh the bittern spreads her wings ; Prone, in the halls of famous revelry, Dust lies upon the faces of dead Kings, The paths lie open for your sure advance. Long since the trumpet hath proclaimed the hour. The hour foreseen, that ye shall wake from sleep Upon a mommg when the world shall burn, 126 THE people's cause 1^7 And with a noise, like waters of the deep. Unto your Zion singing shall return. O People, must the tale run on the same. Thro' all the generations, soon and late. The lamentations of a fruitless shame. The broken armies bowed to meet their fate ? Is all in vain — ^the flaming barricade. The Cross, the gallows, the red guillotine. And all your marred redeemers, each one made A sacrifice for thy new sloth and sin ? When will ye come, no more disconsolate, With banners terrible, and feet of flame. Treading the wine-press of the grapes of wrath. In purple raiment, traveling in your might, 128 THE people's CAUSE With Him Who long since trod the self-same path, And died in darkness that you might have light? O People, shall these lesser Kings of clay Once more weld cruel chains about your feet? Shall lords of Mammon your great progress stay. Or counsel you with craft to vile retreat? Great Rome, with all her legions, slew you not. Proud Paris kissed for peace your brows blood-hued. You were not crushed by Caesar's chariot; With Jesus crucified, in life renewed THE people's cause 129 You lived again. And shall you fear to greet The flaming pennon of your ultimate day, | Bought with a little gold to serve the lust Of those who build an empire on your pain? Once more the Spirit stirs the bones of dust, O ye dry bones, let Him not call in vain. • • * • i* 1 •*• » • * • M * * A PRAYER Now let me die ! This one full exquisite hour Hath drained the heart dry. From this mo- ment's height Life's path runs down thro' days of lessened light, Life's night commences, fades Hope's perfect flower. On Time's consummate Alp secure I stand. As one high-throned who feels the quickened flow Of air where eagles wheel, and sees below Great cities lie like glittering heaps of sand. How painful to descend by narrowing ways 130 A PRAYER 131 To narrower life, to turn reluctant eyes Not all reluctant, from immense still skies, Grow base, decline, and rot thro' evil days ! Ah God, of all my prayers but one I keep, "Let my best action ring the bell for sleep !" THE BUILDER With weary hands we carve the stones And mortise them with blood and tears, We build our home of pride, we build • Our house secure for many years. But that which lives within of care. Of want or woe, we do not guess; Alas, will no man tell us how To build the House of Happiness? On miry roads, with bruised sad feet ; Toward Golden Cities we aspire, Cities of Gold, whose burnished towers Beckon afar like tongues of fire. 132 THE BUILDER 1^3 Ah, vain the quest ! Like flames that fade Our golden cities flash and cease, And who shall show us where is found The City wherein dwelleth peace ? O foolish, foolish heart of man ! The little child with eager hand Builds better palaces than thou Of summer leaves or yellow sand. For Laughter is his Architect, And Joy his fair familiar, And Visions are his visitors. And God, and God's white evening star. Oft have I prayed vain prayer and false; Once more I pray — no more beguiled By foolish pride or vain desire — God, make me as a little child. HEAVEN If one should find, After long wandering in ways unkind Thro' a gjeat wood, Weighed down with darkness and with soli- tude, A fresher wind, A sudden gleam of waters and green sward, A path should find, A golden gap slashed by the sun's strong sword. And, opening up, All the bright country, like a brimming cup 134 HEAVEN 135 A-f oam with bloom, And sweet with Spring's dear promise and perfume : Would he not say, "I have come unaware this happy day On Paradise: No longer will I wander on, unwise, But here will rest, Nor further go upon a bootless quest !" So I expect. Some day when all life's paths are most per- plex't. To come at even Upon the pleasant quiet land of Heaven, And thank the road That with its many windings led to God. THE CHILD ASLEEP Be careful how you wake the child, for you can never tell Where the soul is traveling when the eyes are shut : There are a hundred kingdoms quite invisible, Elfland and faeryland, Heaven and Lilliput, And where the soul is traveling you can never tell. Be careful how you wake the child, for you will never know What Powers are waiting for the soul upon Sleep's other side: 136 THE CHILD ASLEEP 137 There are fairies and angels, like roses in a row, And knights on shining horses all ready for a ride, And which of them may call your child you will never know. Be careful how you wake the child, for if your touch is rough The shaken door of life may swing and drop its silent latch: For children love their sleep so they never have enough. And souls that wander in the dark are dif- ficult to catch. And they may wander quite away if your touch is rough. 13^ THE CHILD ASLEEP Be careful how you wake the child, for you can never know How delicate the life-thread that holds the soul to earth: In sleep-land there are angels, and all the flow- ers that blow. And such immortal meadows, and such de- lightful mirth, Your child may want to stay there-^you can never know! NOBODY KNOWS How the wind blows Nobody knows. Thro' the white Arctic spaces And warm summer places, It blows, and it blows ; But where the wind goes Nobody knows. How a love goes Nobody knows. There's a word that one misses, An end to fond kisses, And lovers are foes : 139 140 NOBODY KNOWS But where the love goes Nobody knows. Where the dead go No one may know. There's a grave mid the grasses Where nobody passes, And twilights are slow; But where the dead go No one may know. THE LAUGHING MAID I WOULD not walk with sorrow If I were you; 'Tis hard enough to borrow Day's courage to be true; Why stint your gracious laughter For fear of what comes after, When suns have scorched youth's dew? I would not walk with sorrow If I were you. I would be blithe as birds are If I were you, I would be glad as words are When hopeful love is new. You are the Dawn's own daughter, 141 142 THE LAUGHING MAID Why seek you Grief's wan water That moans the long night through ? I would be blithe as birds are, If I were you. O not for tears and sadness God fashioned you! Your mouth He kissed for gladness, Such joy in you He knew. He gave your face the sweetness Of flowers in their completeness. Your lips the rose's hue. He never meant that sadness Should be for you. The loads of life grow lighter Because of you; The rooms of life grow brighter THE LAUGHING MAID 143 When you pass gaily through. For some Life brings harsh duty; Life asks of you but beauty In all the things you do; And Duty's yoke grows lighter Because of you. I would not talk with sorrow If I were you. New fragrance I would borrow From mornings ever new. To men God gives lamenting; He gives, in sweet relenting, His mirth unto a few. His mirth, and not His sorrow> He gave to you. SHE PASSED AT DAWN She passed at dawn; the summer breeze Began the leaves to stir; She passed like wind among the trees And took the Dawn with her. A gust of freshest fragrances Did through the tree-tops beat; ! It seemed the rustle of the dress Round her departing feet. A bird sang thrice, and yet again In one long note sang he; It was the very moment when Her dear life ceased to be, 144 * % SHE PASSED AT DAWN 145 Such sweet composure marked her end, So cahn her words did fall, It seemed she fancied Death a friend, And dying natural. She passed so easily, we three Who knelt beside her bed For many minutes earnestly Prayed after she was dead. She passed at Dawn, fit hour for one Whose years had all been bright! She passed ; she took with her the Sun And left with us the Night THE WISE MAN'S WISH A LITTLE work with time to play, So let me live from day to day. Not too much burdened lest I give To work the strength I need to live. Nor too much at my ease, lest I Should lose my soul's integrity; With mind serene, with spirit gay, So let me live from day to day. A little home, far from life's fray Where I may greet each punctual day ; A room for books, a room for sleep, A fire of logs when snows are deep; 146 THE WISE man's WISH 147 Each window bright with the surprise Of wide uninterrupted skies. That glow and fade from rose to gray ; — ^There would I live from day to day. A little wealth, but more I pray Of Love that shall enrich each day; Kind eyes that gleam to welcome me With faith and cheerful constancy; Then, when all earthly tasks are done. An old age sitting in the sun ; A quiet grave when ends the way, Where I may wait God's better day. THE SONGS OF YOUTH When I have crossed the untumultuous sea, And feel beneath my tired feet the shore, The earliest greeting that will come to me, « Will not be from the friends I knew before; No human hands with mine will mate. Another welcome I anticipate. When I have crossed the sea. The songs I did not sing will meet me there. The little flame-flowered and gentle things That fled my heart perverse and left it bare; The low-pitched songs the quiet poet sings. Who asks not for applause, but sings apart. Content with praises from one trustful heart. These songs shall meet me there. 148 THE SONGS OF YOUTH 149 When I have crossed the untumultuous sea, Before I seek for any human smile, I shall desire, from pride freed utterly, To go apart, and weep a little while. While I recapture, tender strain by strain. The songs of my lost youth and all their pain. When I have crossed the sea. EARTH-LOVE The books I love stand row on row. They greet me, each with friendly face; If I must leave them, I would know What better friends shall take their place. My pictures too; Madonna's eyes That long have watched my toiling pen. Great Turner's painted symphonies, A Cuyp, with cattle on the fen — A Corot, veiled in silver mist. Pearl-dripping trees by waters wan ; 150 EARTH-LOVE ^5^ And one of Venice, summer-kiss't, By some unknown Italian. What gain to me were streets of gold That decorate an alien star? Strange glories leave my spirit cold, I cling to the familiar. Though God should crush a thousand suns To paint His crystal domes and seas. More sweet old Corot's stream that runs — ^Wan waters by pearl-dripping trees. More sweet than that Jerusalem, All new and fine, which John hath drawn. Fair Venice, flashing like a gem Upon the turquoise breast of dawn.