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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Cluster of Grapes
+       A Book of Twentieth Century Poetry
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2007 [EBook #21649]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CLUSTER OF GRAPES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A CLUSTER OF GRAPES
+
+
+A BOOK OF TWENTIETH CENTURY POETRY
+
+
+
+By
+
+GALLOWAY KYLE
+
+
+
+    _"Hee doth not onely shew the way, as will entice anie man to
+    enter into it: nay he doth as if your journey should lye through a
+    faire vineyard, at the verie first, give you a cluster of grapes,
+    that full of that taste, you may long to passe further."_
+
+
+
+LONDON: ERSKINE MACDONALD
+1914
+
+_The contents of this volume are copyright and may not be reproduced
+without the permission of the respective authors and publishers._
+
+
+
+
+_PREFACE_
+
+
+_If the existence and contents of this book require any explanation,
+the compiler may adopt the words of a famous defender of poetry:_
+
+    _"Hee doth not onely shew the way but giveth so sweet a prospect
+    into the way as will entice anie man into it._
+
+    _"Nay, hee doth as if your journey should lye through a faire
+    Vineyard, at the verie first give you a cluster of Grapes that
+    full of that taste you may long to passe further. He beginneth
+    not with obscure definitions, which must blurre the margent with
+    interpretations and loade the memorie with doubtfulnesse, but hee
+    cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either
+    accompanied with or prepared for the well-enchanting skill of
+    musicke, and with a tale forsoothe he cometh unto you, with a
+    tale which holdeth children from play and olde men from the
+    chimney-corner, and pretending no more, doth intend the winning
+    of the minde from wickedness to vertue."_
+
+_These excellent words of Sir Philip Sidney give the reason and scope of
+this collection of examples of the poetry of the present century. No
+attempt at arbitrary classification or labelling has been made; it is
+not intended to show that any poet, deliberately or otherwise, is a
+Neo-Symbolist or Paroxyst or is afflicted with any other 'ist or 'ism;
+it is not compiled to assert that any one group of poets is superior to
+any other group of poets or to poets who had the misfortune to have
+their corporeal existence cut short before the dawn of the twentieth
+century; it is not even intended to prove that good poetry is written in
+our time. All such purposes and particularly the latter are superfluous
+and may be left to dogmatic disputants who have little care for the
+grace and harmony of poetry._
+
+_The scheme of the Anthology is simple and without guile. It does not
+presuppose an abrupt period, but for the sake of convenience and in
+justification of its existence includes only the work of living writers
+produced during the present century and therefore most likely to be
+representative of the poetry of to-day. No editorial credit can be
+claimed for the selections; they are not the reflex of one individual's
+taste and preferences, but have been made by the writers themselves, to
+whom--and their respective publishers--for their cordial co-operation
+the collator of this distinctive volume is exceedingly grateful, not on
+his own account only but also on behalf of those readers to whom this
+volume will open out so fair a prospect that they will long to pass
+further, this "cluster of grapes" being one of the "lures immortal" for
+the rapidly increasing number of discriminating lovers of the high
+poetry that is the touchstone of beauty. The finest lyric work of our
+day needs no further introduction; the poet is his own best interpreter;
+but it may be added, in anticipation of adventitious criticism of the
+limitations of these examples, that the capacity of the present volume
+and the absence abroad of some potential contributors account for the
+non-inclusion of certain writers who otherwise would have been
+represented here._
+
+_GALLOWAY KYLE._
+
+_May_, 1914.
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                                 Page
+
+A.E.:
+  Collected Poems (Macmillan), 1913.
+
+    Reconciliation                                                  1
+    The Man to the Angel                                            2
+    Babylon                                                         3
+
+
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON:
+  Le Cahier Jaune (privately printed), 1892. Poems, 1893; Lyrics,
+  1895; Lord Vyet, and other Poems, 1897; The Professor and other
+  Poems, 1900; Peace and other Poems, 1905; Collected Poems (John
+  Lane, The Bodley Head), 1909.
+
+    Making Haste                                                    5
+    At Eventide                                                     6
+    In a College Garden                                             7
+
+
+ANNA BUNSTON (Mrs de Bary):
+  Leaves from a Woman's Manuscript, 1904 (out of print); Mingled Wine
+  (Longmans), 1909; The Porch of Paradise (Herbert & Daniel), 1911;
+  Songs of God and Man (Herbert & Daniel), 1912; Letters of a
+  Schoolma'am (Dent), 1913; Jephthah's Daughter (Erskine MacDonald),
+  1914; Mingled Wine (Cheaper re-issue, Erskine MacDonald), 1914.
+
+    A Mortgaged Inheritance                                         8
+    The Wilderness                                                  9
+    Under a Wiltshire Apple Tree                                   11
+
+
+G. K. CHESTERTON:
+  (b. 1873). Poems in Novels and the _Commonwealth_, the _New
+  Witness_, etc.; The Wild Knight and other Poems (Richards), 1900;
+  Browning, in "English Men of Letters" (Macmillan), 1903; Ballad of
+  the White Horse (Methuen), 1911.
+
+    Sonnet with the Compliments of the Season                      13
+    When I came back to Fleet Street                               14
+    The Truce of Christmas                                         17
+
+
+FRANCES CORNFORD:
+  Poems (Bowes & Bowes, Cambridge), 1910. Death and the Princess, a
+  Morality (Bowes & Bowes), 1913.
+
+    The Princess and the Gypsies                                   19
+    The Dandelion                                                  22
+    Social Intercourse                                             23
+
+
+WALTER DE LA MARE:
+  (b. 1873). Songs of Childhood (Longmans), 1902; Henry Brocken
+  (Murray), 1904; Poems, 1906: The Three Mulla Malgars (Duckworth);
+  The Return (Arnold), 1910; The Listeners and other Poems
+  (Constable), 1911; Peacock Pie (Constable), 1913.
+
+    An Epitaph                                                     24
+    Arabia                                                         25
+    Nod                                                            26
+
+
+JOHN GALSWORTHY:
+  (b. 1867). Novels, Studies, and Verse; Villa Rubein, 1901; The
+  Island Pharisees, 1904; The Man of Property, 1906; The Country
+  House, 1907; A Commentary, 1908; Fraternity, 1909; A Motley, 1910;
+  The Patrician, 1911; The Inn of Tranquillity; and Moods, Songs and
+  Doggerels, 1913; The Dark Flower (Heinemann), 1913; Plays: Vol. I,
+  The Silver Box; Joy; Strife, 1909. Vol. II, Justice; The Little
+  Dream; The Eldest Son, 1912. Vol. III, The Fugitive; The Pigeon;
+  The Mob, 1914.
+
+    The Downs                                                      27
+    The Prayer                                                     27
+    Devon to Me                                                    28
+
+
+EVA GORE-BOOTH:
+  Poems (Longmans, Green & Co.), 1898; Unseen Kings (Longmans), 1904;
+  The One and the Many (Longmans), 1904; The Three Resurrections and
+  the Triumph of Maeve (Longmans), 1905; The Sorrowful Princess
+  (Longmans), 1907; The Egyptian Pillar (Maunsel & Co., Dublin), 1907;
+  The Agate Lamp (Longmans), 1912.
+
+    Maeve of the Battles                                           29
+    Re-Incarnation                                                 31
+    Leonardo Da Vinci                                              34
+
+
+JOHN GURDON:
+  Erinna, a Tragedy (Edward Arnold), 1913; Dramatic Lyrics (Elkin
+  Matthews), 1906; Enchantments (Erskine Macdonald), 1912.
+
+    Surrender                                                      36
+    Before the Fates                                               38
+
+
+THOMAS HARDY:
+  (b. 1840). Wessex Poems, 1898; Poems of the Past and Present, 1901;
+  The Dynasts; An Epic Drama, Part I, 1903-4; Part II, 1906; Part III,
+  1908; Time's Laughing Stocks and other Verses (Macmillan), 1910.
+
+    A Trampwoman's Tragedy                                         42
+    Chorus from "The Dynasts" (Part III)                           47
+    The Ballad Singer                                              49
+
+
+RALPH HODGSON:
+  Contributions to the _Saturday Review_; Flying Fame Chap Books.
+
+    The Moor                                                       50
+    Time, You Old Gipsy Man                                        51
+    Ghoul Care                                                     53
+
+
+W. G. HOLE:
+  Procris and other Poems (Paul); Amoris Imago (Paul); Poems, Lyrical
+  and Dramatic (Matthews), 1902; Queen Elizabeth, An Historical Drama
+  (Geo. Bell & Sons), 1904; New Poems (Geo. Bell & Sons), 1907; The
+  Chained Titan (Geo. Bell & Sons,) 1910; The Master: A Poetical Play
+  in Two Acts (Erskine Macdonald), 1913.
+
+    Roosevelt-Village Street                                       54
+    The Haunted Fields                                             58
+    Captive in London Town                                         60
+
+
+LAURENCE HOUSMAN:
+  (b. 1867). Mendicant Rimes; Selected Poems (Sidgwick & Jackson).
+
+    The Fellow-Travellers                                          61
+    The Settlers                                                   62
+    Song                                                           63
+
+
+EMILIA S. LORIMER:
+  Songs of Alban (Constable), 1912.
+
+    Love Songs                                                     64
+    Storm                                                          65
+
+
+JAMES A. MACKERETH:
+  In Grasmere Vale and other Poems, 1907; The Cry on the Mountain,
+  1908; When We Dreamers Wake, a Drama for To-day (Nutt), 1909; A
+  Son of Cain and other Poems (Longmans), 1910; In the Wake of the
+  Phoenix (Longmans), 1911; On the Face of a Star (Longmans), 1913.
+
+    To a Blackbird on New Year's Day                               66
+    La Danseuse                                                    68
+    God Returns                                                    70
+
+
+ALICE MEYNELL:
+  Poems (Collected Edition), 1913. Essays (selected from The Rhythm of
+  Life, etc.) (Burns & Oates), 1914.
+
+    To the Body                                                    72
+    Christ in the Universe                                         73
+    Maternity                                                      74
+
+
+WILL H. OGILVIE:
+  The Overlander; The Land we Love; Whaup o' the Rede (Thomas Fraser,
+  Dalbeattie); Rainbows and Witches (Elkin Matthews); Fair Girls and
+  Grey Horses; Hearts of Gold (Angus & Robertson, Australia).
+
+    There's a Clean Wind Blowing                                   75
+    The Garden of the Night                                        76
+    The Crossing Swords                                            79
+
+
+STEPHEN PHILLIPS:
+  Eremus (Paul), 1894; Christ in Hades (Matthews), 1896; Poems, 1897;
+  Paolo and Francesca, 1899; Marpessa, 1900; Herod, 1900; Ulysses,
+  1902; Nero, 1906; The New Inferno, 1910; New Poems, Lyrics and
+  Dramas (John Lane), 1913.
+
+    Lures Immortal                                                 80
+    Beautiful lie the Dead                                         82
+    Lyric from "The Sin of David"                                  83
+
+
+EDEN PHILLPOTTS:
+  Many novels: Dance of the Months; Sketches of Dartmoor and Poems
+  (Gowans & Gray), 1911; The Iscariot, a Poem (Murray), 1912; Up-Along
+  and Down-Along (Methuen), 1905; Wild Fruit (John Lane), 1911.
+
+    A Devon Courting                                               84
+    A Litany to Pan                                                85
+    Swinburne                                                      87
+
+
+DORA SIGERSON SHORTER:
+  Verses, 1894; The Fairy Changeling, and other Poems, 1897; My Lady's
+  Slipper and other Poems, 1898; Ballads and Poems, 1899; The Father
+  Confessor, 1900; The Woman who went to Hell, 1902; As the Sparks fly
+  Upward, 1904; The Story and Song of Earl Roderick, 1906; Collected
+  Poems, 1909; The Troubadour, 1910; New Poems, 1912; Madge Linsey and
+  other Poems (Maunsel, Dublin), 1913.
+
+    The Watcher in the Wood                                        88
+    The Nameless One                                               89
+    When I shall Rise                                              91
+
+
+ARTHUR SYMONS:
+  Images of Good and Evil, 1900; Poems, 1901; The Fool of the World
+  and other Poems, 1906; The Knave of Hearts (Heinemann), 1913; Cities
+  of Italy, 1908; The Romantic Movement in English Poetry, 1909.
+
+    Tanagra                                                        92
+    Giovanni Malatesta at Rimini                                   93
+    La Melinite: Moulin Rouge                                      95
+
+
+EVELYN UNDERHILL:
+  Immanence, A Book of Verses (J. M. Dent & Sons), 1912; Mysticism;
+  The Mystic Way.
+
+    Immanence                                                      97
+    Introversion                                                   99
+    Ichthus                                                       100
+
+
+MARGARET L. WOODS:
+  Poems, Collected Edition (John Lane), 1913.
+
+    Songs                                                         102
+    The Changeling                                                103
+
+
+
+
+Æ
+
+
+RECONCILIATION
+
+I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord;
+  I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest
+Of the earth, of the mother, my heart with her heart in accord,
+  As I lie mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast
+I begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.
+
+By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the King
+  For a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far,
+And His infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bring
+  Me in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star.
+On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.
+
+
+
+THE MAN TO THE ANGEL
+
+I have wept a million tears:
+  Pure and proud one, where are thine,
+What the gain though all thy years
+  In unbroken beauty shine?
+
+All your beauty cannot win
+  Truth we learn in pain and sighs:
+You can never enter in
+  To the circle of the wise.
+
+They are but the slaves of light
+  Who have never known the gloom,
+And between the dark and bright
+  Willed in freedom their own doom.
+
+Think not in your pureness there,
+  That our pain but follows sin:
+There are fires for those who dare
+  Seek the throne of might to win.
+
+Pure one, from your pride refrain:
+  Dark and lost amid the strife
+I am myriad years of pain
+  Nearer to the fount of life.
+
+When defiance fierce is thrown
+  At the god to whom you bow,
+Rest the lips of the Unknown
+  Tenderest upon my brow.
+
+
+
+BABYLON
+
+The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within my mind,
+It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind.
+To-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run
+Through thrice a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient Babylon.
+On temple top and palace roof the burnished gold flung back the rays
+Of a red sunset that was dead and lost beyond a million days.
+The tower of heaven turns darker blue, a starry sparkle now begins;
+The mystery and magnificence, the myriad beauty and the sins
+Come back to me. I walk beneath the shadowy multitude of towers;
+Within the gloom the fountain jets its pallid mist in lily flowers.
+The waters lull me and the scent of many gardens, and I hear
+Familiar voices, and the voice I love is whispering in my ear.
+Oh real as in dream all this; and then a hand on mine is laid:
+The wave of phantom time withdraws; and that young Babylonian maid,
+One drop of beauty left behind from all the flowing of that tide,
+Is looking with the self-same eyes, and here in Ireland by my side.
+Oh light our life in Babylon, but Babylon has taken wings,
+While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things.
+
+
+
+
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
+
+
+MAKING HASTE
+
+"Soon!" says the Snowdrop, and smiles at the motherly earth,
+  "Soon!--for the Spring with her languors comes stealthily on
+Snow was my cradle, and chill winds sang at my birth;
+  Winter is over--and I must make haste to be gone!"
+
+"Soon," says the Swallow, and dips to the wind-ruffled stream,
+  "Grain is all garnered--the Summer is over and done;
+Bleak to the eastward the icy battalions gleam,
+  Summer is over--and I must make haste to be gone!"
+
+"Soon--ah, too soon!" says the Soul, with a pitiful gaze,
+  "Soon!--for I rose like a star, and for aye would have shone!
+See the pale shuddering dawn, that must wither my rays,
+  Leaps from the mountains--and I must make haste to be gone!"
+
+
+
+AT EVENTIDE
+
+At morn I saw the level plain
+  So rich and small beneath my feet,
+A sapphire sea without a stain,
+  And fields of golden-waving wheat;
+Lingering I said, "At noon I'll be
+  At peace by that sweet-scented tide.
+How far, how fair my course shall be,
+  Before I come to the Eventide!"
+
+Where is it fled, that radiant plain?
+  I stumble now in miry ways;
+Dark clouds drift landward, big with rain,
+  And lonely moors their summits raise.
+On, on with hurrying feet I range,
+  And left and right in the dumb hillside
+Grey gorges open, drear and strange,
+  And so I come to the Eventide!
+
+
+
+IN A COLLEGE GARDEN
+
+Birds, that cry so loud in the old, green bowery garden,
+Your song is of _Love! Love! Love!_
+  Will ye weary not nor cease?
+For the loveless soul grows sick, the heart that the grey days harden;
+  I know too well that ye love! I would ye should hold your peace.
+
+I too have seen Love rise, like a star; I have marked his setting;
+  I dreamed in my folly and pride that Life without Love were peace.
+But if Love should await me yet, in the land of sleep and forgetting--
+  Ah, bird, could you sing me this, I would not your song should cease!
+
+
+
+
+ANNA BUNSTON (Mrs de BARY)
+
+
+A MORTGAGED INHERITANCE
+
+I knew a land whose streams did wind
+More winningly than these,
+Where finer shadows played behind
+The clean-stemmed beechen trees.
+The maidens there were deeper eyed,
+The lads more swift and fair,
+And angels walked at each one's side--
+Would God that I were there!
+
+Here daffodils are dressed in gold,
+But there they wore the sun,
+And here the blooms are bought and sold,
+But there God gave each one.
+There all roads led to fairyland
+That here do lead to care,
+And stars were lamps on Heaven's strand--
+Would God, that I were there!
+
+Here worship crawls upon her course
+That there with larks would cope,
+And here her voice with doubt is hoarse
+That there was sweet with hope.
+O land of Peace! my spirit dies
+For thy once tasted air,
+O earliest loss! O latest prize!
+Would God that I were there!
+
+
+
+THE WILDERNESS
+
+From Life's enchantments,
+Desire of place,
+From lust of getting
+Turn thou away, and set thy face
+Toward the wilderness.
+
+The tents of Jacob
+As valleys spread,
+As goodly cedars,
+Or fair lign aloes, white and red,
+Shall share thy wilderness.
+
+With awful judgments,
+The law, the rod,
+With soft allurements
+And comfortable words, will God
+Pass o'er the wilderness.
+
+The bitter waters
+Are healed and sweet,
+The ample heavens
+Pour angel's bread about thy feet
+Throughout the wilderness.
+
+And Carmel's glory
+Thou thoughtest gone,
+And Sharon's roses,
+The excellency of Lebanon
+Delight thy wilderness.
+
+Who passeth Jordan
+Perfumed with myrrh,
+With myrrh and incense?
+Lo! on his arm Love leadeth her
+Who trod the wilderness.
+
+
+
+UNDER A WILTSHIRE APPLE TREE
+
+Some folks as can afford,
+So I've heard say,
+Sets up a sort of cross
+Right in the garden way
+To mind 'em of the Lord.
+
+But I, when I do see
+Thic apple tree
+An' stoopin' limb
+All spread wi' moss,
+I think of Him
+And how he talks wi' me.
+
+I think of God
+And how he trod
+That garden long ago:
+He walked, I reckon, to and fro
+And then sat down
+Upon the groun'
+Or some low limb
+What suited Him
+Same as you see
+On many a tree,
+And on this very one
+Where I at set o' sun
+Do sit and talk wi' He.
+
+An' mornings, too, I rise an' come
+An' sit down where the branch be low;
+A bird do sing, a bee do hum,
+The flowers in the border blow,
+An' all my heart's so glad an' clear
+As pools be when the sun do peer:
+As pools a laughin' in the light
+When mornin' air is swep' an' bright,
+As pools what got all Heaven in sight
+So's my heart's cheer
+When He be near.
+
+He never pushed the garden door,
+He left no footmark on the floor;
+I never heard 'Un stir nor tread
+An' yet His Hand do bless my head,
+And when 'tis time for work to start
+I takes Him with me in my heart.
+
+And when I die, pray God I see
+At very last thic apple tree
+An' stoopin' limb,
+An' think o' Him
+And all He been to me.
+
+
+
+
+G. K. CHESTERTON
+
+
+SONNET WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON
+
+(To a popular leader, to be congratulated on the avoidance of a strike
+at Christmas.)
+
+I know you. You will hail the huge release,
+  Saying the sheathing of a thousand swords,
+  In silence and injustice, well accords
+With Christmas bells. And you will gild with grease
+The papers, the employers, the police,
+  And vomit up the void your windy words
+  To your new Christ; who bears no whip of cords
+For them that traffic in the doves of peace.
+
+The feast of friends, the candle-fruited tree,
+  I have not failed to honour. And I say
+It would be better for such men as we
+  And we be nearer Bethlehem, if we lay
+Shot dead on snows scarlet for Liberty,
+  Dead in the daylight; upon Christmas Day.
+
+
+
+WHEN I CAME BACK TO FLEET STREET
+
+When I came back to Fleet Street,
+  Through a sunset-nook at night,
+And saw the old Green Dragon
+  With the windows all alight,
+And hailed the old Green Dragon
+  And the Cock I used to know,
+Where all the good fellows were my friends
+  A little while ago.
+
+I had been long in meadows,
+  And the trees took hold of me,
+And the still towns in the beech-woods,
+  Where men were meant to be;
+But old things held; the laughter,
+  The long unnatural night,
+And all the truth the talk in hell,
+  And all the lies they write.
+
+For I came back to Fleet Street,
+  And not in peace I came;
+A cloven pride was in my heart,
+  And half my love was shame.
+I came to fight in fairy tale,
+  Whose end shall no man know--
+To fight the old Green Dragon
+  Until the Cock shall crow!
+
+Under the broad bright windows
+  Of men I serve no more,
+The groaning of the old great wheels
+  Thickened to a throttled roar;
+All buried things broke upwards;
+  And peered from its retreat,
+Ugly and silent, like an elf,
+  The secret of the street.
+
+They did not break the padlocks,
+  Or clear the wall away.
+The men in debt that drank of old
+  Still drink in debt to-day;
+Chained to the rich by ruin,
+  Cheerful in chains, as then
+When old unbroken Pickwick walked
+  Among the broken men.
+
+Still he that dreams and rambles
+  Through his own elfin air,
+Knows that the street's a prison,
+  Knows that the gates are there:
+Still he that scorns or struggles,
+  Sees frightful and afar
+All that they leave of rebels
+  Rot high on Temple Bar.
+
+All that I loved and hated,
+  All that I shunned and knew,
+Clears in broad battle lightening;
+  Where they, and I, and you,
+Run high the barricade that breaks
+  The barriers of the Street,
+And shout to them that shrink within,
+  The Prisoners of the Fleet!
+
+
+
+THE TRUCE OF CHRISTMAS
+
+Passionate peace is in the sky
+And on the snow in silver sealed
+The beasts are perfect in the field
+And men seem men so suddenly
+  But take ten swords, and ten times ten,
+  And blow the bugle in praising men
+  For we are for all men under the sun
+  And they are against us every one
+  And misers haggle, and mad men clutch
+  And there is peril in praising much
+  And we have the terrible tongues un-curled
+  That praise the world to the sons of the world.
+
+The idle humble hill and wood
+Are bowed about the sacred Birth
+And for one little while the earth
+Is lazy with the love of good
+  But ready are you and ready am I
+  If the battle blow and the guns go by
+  For we are for all men under the sun
+  And they are against us every one
+  For the men that hate herd altogether
+  To pride and gold and the great white feather
+  And the thing is graven in star and stone
+    That the men that love are all alone.
+
+Hunger is hard and time is tough
+But bless the beggars and kiss the kings
+For hope has broken the heart of things
+And nothing was ever praised enough
+  But hold the shield for a sudden swing
+  And point the sword in praising a thing
+  For we are for all men under the sun
+  And they are against us every one
+  And mime and merchant, thane and thrall,
+  Hate us because we love them all
+  Only till Christmas time goes by
+  Passionate peace is in the sky.
+
+
+
+
+FRANCES CORNFORD
+
+
+THE PRINCESS AND THE GIPSIES
+
+As I looked out one May morning,
+  I saw the tree-tops green;
+I said: "My crown I will lay down
+  And live no more a queen."
+
+Then I tripped down my golden steps
+  All in my silken gown,
+And when I stood in the open wood,
+  I met some gipsies brown.
+
+"O gentle, gentle gipsies,
+  That roam the wide world through,
+Because I hate my crown and state
+  O let me come with you.
+
+"My councillors are old and grey,
+  And sit in narrow chairs;
+But you can hear the birds sing clear,
+  And your hearts are as light as theirs."
+
+"If you would come along with us,
+  Then you must count the cost;
+For though in Spring the sweet birds sing,
+  In Winter comes the frost.
+
+"Your ladies serve you all the day
+  With courtesy and care;
+Your fine-shod feet they tread so neat,
+  But a gipsy's feet go bare.
+
+"You wash in water running warm
+  Through basins all of gold;
+The streams where we roam have silvery foam,
+  But the streams, the streams are cold.
+
+"And barley-bread is bitter to taste,
+  While sugary cakes they please--
+Which will you choose, O which will you choose,
+  Which will you choose of these?
+
+"For if you choose the mountain streams
+  And barley-bread to eat,
+Your heart will be free as the birds in the tree,
+  But the stones will cut your feet.
+
+"The mud will spoil your silken gown,
+  And stain your insteps high;
+The dogs in the farm will wish you harm
+  And bark as you go by.
+
+"And though your heart grow deep and gay,
+  And your heart grow wise and rich,
+The cold will make your bones to ache
+  And you will die in a ditch."
+
+"O gentle, gentle gipsies,
+  That roam the wide world through,
+Although I praise your wandering ways,
+  I dare not come with you."
+
+I hung about their fingers brown
+  My ruby rings and chain,
+And with my head as heavy as lead,
+  I turned me back again.
+
+As I went up the palace steps,
+  I heard the gipsies laugh;
+The birds of Spring so sweet did sing;
+  My heart it broke in half.
+
+
+
+THE DANDELION
+
+The dandelion is brave and gay,
+And loves to grow beside the way;
+A braver thing was never seen
+To praise the grass for growing green;
+    You never saw a gayer thing,
+    To sit and smile and praise the Spring.
+
+The children with their simple hearts,
+The lazy men that come in carts,
+The little dogs that lollop by,
+They all have seen its shining eye:
+    And every one of them would say,
+    They never saw a thing so gay.
+
+
+
+SOCIAL INTERCOURSE
+
+Like to islands in the seas,
+Stand our personalities--
+Islands where we always face
+One another's watering-place.
+When we promenade our sands
+We can hear each other's bands,
+We can see on festal nights
+Red and green and purple lights,
+Gilt pavilions in a row,
+Stucco houses built for show.
+
+But our eyes can never reach
+Further than the tawdry beach,
+Never can they hope to win
+To the wonders far within:
+Jagged rocks against the sky
+Where the eagles haunt and cry,
+Forests full of running rills,
+Darkest forests, sunny hills,
+Hollows where a dragon lowers,
+Sweet and unimagined flowers.
+
+
+
+
+WALTER DE LA MARE
+
+
+AN EPITAPH
+
+Here lies a most beautiful lady,
+  Light of step and heart was she:
+I think she was the most beautiful lady
+  That ever was in the West Country.
+But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;
+  However rare--rare it be;
+And when I crumble who will remember
+  This lady of the West Country?
+
+
+
+ARABIA
+
+Far are the shades of Arabia,
+Where the princes ride at noon,
+'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets
+Under the ghost of the moon;
+And so dark is that vaulted purple,
+Flowers in the forest rise
+And toss into blossom 'gainst the phantom stars,
+Pale in the noonday skies.
+
+Sweet is the music of Arabia
+In my heart, when out of dreams
+I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn
+Descry her gliding streams;
+Hear her strange lutes on the green banks
+Ring loud with the grief and delight
+Of the dim-silked, dark-haired musicians,
+In the brooding silence of night.
+
+They haunt me--her lutes and her forests;
+No beauty on earth I see
+But shadowed with that dream recalls
+Her loveliness to me:
+Still eyes look coldly upon me,
+Cold voices whisper and say--
+"He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia,
+They have stolen his wits away."
+
+
+
+NOD
+
+Softly along the road of evening,
+In a twilight dim with rose,
+Wrinkled with age and drenched with dew,
+Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.
+
+His drowsy flock streams on before him,
+Their fleeces charged with gold,
+To where the sun's last beam leans low
+On Nod the shepherd's fold.
+
+The hedge is quick and green with briar,
+From their sand the conies creep;
+And all the birds that fly in heaven
+Flock singing home to sleep.
+
+His lambs outnumber a noon's roses
+Yet, when night's shadows fall,
+His blind old sheep dog, Slumber-soon,
+Misses not one of all.
+
+His are the quiet steeps of dreamland,
+The waters of no more pain,
+His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars,
+"Rest, rest, and rest again."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GALSWORTHY
+
+
+THE DOWNS.
+
+Oh! the downs high to the cool sky;
+  And the feel of the sun-warmed moss;
+And each cardoon, like a full moon,
+  Fairy-spun of the thistle floss;
+And the beech grove, and a wood dove,
+  And the trail where the shepherds pass;
+And the lark's song, and the wind-song,
+  And the scent of the parching grass!
+
+
+
+THE PRAYER.
+
+If on a Spring night I went by
+And God were standing there,
+What is the prayer that I would cry
+  To Him? This is the prayer:
+    O Lord of Courage grave,
+    O Master of this night of Spring!
+    Make firm in me a heart too brave
+    To ask Thee anything!
+
+
+
+DEVON TO ME.
+
+Where my fathers stood, watching the sea,
+Gale-spent herring boats hugging the lea;
+There my Mother lives, moorland and tree.
+Sight o' the blossoms! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers walked, driving the plough;
+Whistled their hearts out--who whistles now?--
+There my Mother burns fire faggots free.
+Scent o' the wood-smoke! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers sat, passing their bowls;
+--They've no cider now, God rest their souls!
+There my Mother feeds red cattle three.
+Sup o' the cream-pan! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers sleep, turning to dust,
+This old body throw when die I must!
+There my Mother calls, wakeful is she!
+Sound o' the West-wind! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers lie, when I am gone,
+Who need pity me, dead? Never one!
+There my Mother clasps me. Let me be!
+Feel o' the red earth! Devon to me!
+
+
+
+
+EVA GORE-BOOTH
+
+
+MAEVE OF THE BATTLES
+
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill,
+  And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed,
+And my soul is blown about by the wild wind of her will,
+  For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead--
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+
+I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace--
+  A dream of light on the mountains, and calm on the restless sea;
+A dream of the gentle days of the world when battle shall cease
+  And the things that are in hatred and wrath no longer shall be.
+I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace.
+
+The foamless waves are falling soft on the sands of Lissadil
+  And the world is wrapped in quiet and a floating dream of grey;
+But the wild winds of the twilight blow straight from the haunted hill
+  And the stars come out of the darkness and shine over Knocknarea--
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+
+There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve;
+  No rest for the heart once caught in the net of her yellow hair--
+No quiet for the fallen wind, no peace for the broken wave;
+  Rising and falling, falling and rising with soft sounds everywhere,
+There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve.
+
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill
+  And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed;
+And my soul is blown about by the wild winds of her will,
+  For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead--
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+
+
+
+RE-INCARNATION
+
+The darkness draws me, kindly angels weep
+  Forlorn beyond receding rings of light,
+The torrents of the earth's desires sweep
+  My soul through twilight downward into night.
+
+Once more the light grows dim, the vision fades,
+  Myself seems to myself a distant goal,
+I grope among the bodies' drowsy shades,
+  Once more the Old Illusion rocks my soul.
+
+Once more the Manifold in shadowy streams
+  Of falling waters murmurs in my ears,
+The One Voice drowns amid the roar of dreams
+  That crowd the narrow pathway of the years.
+
+I go to seek the starshine on the waves,
+  To count the dewdrops on the grassy hill,
+I go to gather flowers that grow on graves,
+  The worlds' wall closes round my prisoned will.
+
+Yea, for the sake of the wild western wind
+  The sphered spirit scorns her flame-built throne,
+Because of primroses, time out of mind,
+  The Lonely turns away from the Alone.
+
+Who once has loved the cornfield's rustling sheaves,
+  Who once has heard the gentle Irish rain
+Murmur low music in the growing leaves,
+  Though he were god, comes back to earth again.
+
+Oh Earth! green wind-swept Eirinn, I would break
+  The tower of my soul's initiate pride
+For a grey field and a star-haunted lake,
+  And those wet winds that roam the country side.
+
+I who have seen am glad to close my eyes,
+  I who have soared am weary of my wings,
+I seek no more the secret of the wise,
+  Safe among shadowy, unreal human things.
+
+Blind to the gleam of those wild violet rays
+  That burn beyond the rainbow's circle dim,
+Bound by dark nights and driven by pale days,
+  The sightless slave of Time's imperious whim;
+
+Deaf to the flowing tide of dreams divine
+  That surge outside the closed gates of birth,
+The rhythms of eternity, too fine
+  To touch with music the dull ears of earth--
+
+I go to seek with humble care and toil
+  The dreams I left undreamed, the deeds undone,
+To sow the seed and break the stubborn soil,
+  Knowing no brightness whiter than the sun.
+
+Content in winter if the fire burns clear
+  And cottage walls keep out the creeping damp,
+Hugging the Old Illusion warm and dear,
+  The Silence and the Wise Book and the Lamp.
+
+
+
+LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+He in his deepest mind
+That inner harmony divined
+That lit the soul of John
+And in the glad eyes shone
+Of Dionysos, and dwelt
+Where Angel Gabriel knelt
+Under the dark cypress spires;
+And thrilled with flameless fires
+Of Secret Wisdom's rays
+The Giaconda's smiling gaze;
+Curving with delicate care
+The pearls in Beatrice d'Este's hair;
+Hiding behind the veil
+Of eyelids long and pale,
+In the strange gentle vision dim
+Of the unknown Christ who smiled on him.
+His was no vain dream
+Of the things that seem,
+Of date and name.
+He overcame
+The Outer False with the Inner True,
+And overthrew
+The empty show and thin deceits of sex,
+Pale nightmares of this barren world that vex
+The soul of man, shaken by every breeze
+Too faint to stir the silver olive trees
+Or lift the Dryad's smallest straying tress
+Frozen in her clear marble loveliness.
+
+He, in curved lips and smiling eyes,
+Hid the last secret's faint surprise
+Of one who dies in fear and pain
+And lives and knows herself again.
+He, in his dreaming under the sun,
+Saw change and the unchanging One,
+And built in grottoes blue a shrine
+To hold Reality Divine.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GURDON
+
+
+SURRENDER
+
+Like the diamond spark of the morning star
+  When night grows pale
+Love gleams in the depths of thine eyes afar
+  Through the rifted veil
+    Of thy cloudy dreams.
+
+I saw in the glint of thy wavy hair
+  His splendour shine
+A moment, and now thy cheeks declare
+  The fire divine
+    In their rosy streams.
+
+It leaps from thy face to mine, and flushes
+  From brow to chin.
+The hot blood sings in my ears and gushes
+  With surge and spin
+    Through my tingling veins.
+
+I lift up my heart for thy fervent lips
+  To kiss, my sweet.
+I would lift up my soul, but she swooning slips
+  Down at thy feet,
+    And the rainbow stains.
+
+Brighten and cloud on her wings that close
+  And open slow,
+As a butterfly's move, on the breast of a rose
+  Rocked to and fro
+    By a crooning wind.
+
+O star! O blossom! I faint for bliss.
+  I faint for thee;
+For the kiss on my closed eyes, thy kiss
+  In ecstasy
+    That leaves me blind.
+
+Me has love molten for thee to mould.
+  Ah, shape me fair
+As the crown of thy life, as a crown of gold
+  In thy flame-like hair
+    Worn for a sign!
+
+Nay, rather my life be a wind-flower
+  Slow kissed to death,
+Petal by petal, on lips that stir
+  With love's own breath.
+    Dear life, take mine!
+
+
+
+BEFORE THE FATES
+
+I cannot sing,
+  So weary of life my heart is and so sore
+Afraid. What harp-playing
+  Back from the land whose name is Never More
+My lost desire will bring?
+
+        *    *    *    *    *
+
+These words she said
+  Before the Pheidian Fates. "There comes an end
+Of love, and mine is fled:
+  But, if you let me, I will be your friend,
+A better friend, instead."
+
+Was it her own,
+  The voice I heard, marmoreal, strange, remote,
+As though from yonder throne
+  Clotho had spoken, and the headless throat
+Had uttered words of stone?
+
+I sought her face;
+  It was a mask inscrutable, a screen
+Baffling all hope to trace
+  The woman whose passionate loveliness had been
+Mine for a little space.
+
+Thereat I rose,
+  Smiling, and said--"The dream is past and gone.
+Surely Love comes and goes
+  Even as he will. And who shall thwart him? None.
+Only, while water flows
+
+And night and day
+  Chase one another round the rolling sphere,
+Henceforth our destined way
+  Divides. Fare onward, then, and leave me, dear.
+There is no more to say."
+
+        *    *    *    *    *
+
+Harsh songs and sweet
+  Come to me still, but as a tale twice told.
+The throb, the quivering beat
+  Harry my blood no longer as of old,
+Nor stir my wayworn feet.
+
+Yet for a threne
+  Once more I wear the purple robe and make
+Sad music and serene
+  For pity's sake, ah me, and the old time's sake,
+And all that might have been.
+
+For Love lies dead.
+  Love, the immortal, the victorious,
+Is fallen and vanquished.
+  What charm can raise, what incantation rouse
+That lowly, piteous head?
+
+Why should I weep
+  My triumph? 'Twas my life or his. Behold
+The wound, how wide and deep
+  Which in my side the arrow tipped with gold
+Smote as I lay asleep!
+
+Across thy way
+  I came not, Love, nor ever sought thy face;
+But me, who dreaming lay
+  Peaceful within my quiet lurking-place,
+Thy shaft was sped to slay.
+
+When hadst thou ruth,
+  That I should sorrow o'er thee and forgive?
+Why should I grieve, forsooth?
+  Art thou not dead for ever, and I live?
+And yet--and yet, in truth
+
+Almost I would
+  That I had perished, and beside my bier
+Thou and thy mother stood,
+  And from relenting eyes let fall a tear
+Upon me, and my blood
+
+Changed to a flower
+  Imperishable, a hyacinthine bloom,
+In memory of an hour
+  Splendidly lived between Delight and Doom
+Once when I wandered from my ivory tower.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS HARDY
+
+
+A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY (182-)
+
+I
+
+From Wynyard's Gap the livelong day,
+        The livelong day,
+We beat afoot the northward way
+    We had travelled times before.
+The sun-blaze burning on our backs,
+Our shoulders sticking to our packs,
+By fosseway, fields, and turnpike tracks
+    We skirted sad Sedge Moor.
+
+II
+
+Full twenty miles we jaunted on,
+        We jaunted on--
+My fancy-man, and jeering John,
+    And Mother Lee, and I.
+And, as the sun drew down to west,
+We climbed the toilsome Poldon crest,
+And saw, of landskip sights the best,
+    The inn that beamed thereby.
+
+III
+
+For months we had padded side by side,
+        Ay, side by side
+Through the Great Forest, Blackmoor wide,
+  And where the Parret ran.
+We'd faced the gusts on Mendip ridge,
+Had crossed the Yeo unhelped by bridge,
+Been stung by every Marshwood midge,
+    I and my fancy man.
+
+IV
+
+Lone inns we loved, my man and I,
+          My man and I;
+"King's Stag," "Windwhistle" high and dry,
+  "The Horse" on Hintock Green,
+The cosy house at Wynyard's Gap,
+"The Hut" renowned on Bredy Knap,
+And many another wayside tap
+    Where folk might sit unseen.
+
+V
+
+Now as we trudged--O deadly day,
+        O deadly day!--
+I teased my fancy-man in play
+    And wanton idleness.
+I walked alongside jeering John,
+I laid his hand my waist upon;
+I would not bend my glances on
+    My lover's dark distress.
+
+VI
+
+Thus Poldon top at last we won,
+        At last we won,
+And gained the inn at sink of sun
+    Far famed as "Marshall's Elm."
+Beneath us figured tor and lea,
+From Mendip to the western sea--
+I doubt if finer sight there be
+    Within this royal realm.
+
+VII
+
+Inside the settle all a-row--
+        All four a-row
+We sat, I next to John, to show
+    That he had wooed and won.
+And then he took me on his knee,
+And swore it was his turn to be
+My favoured mate, and Mother Lee
+    Passed to my former one.
+
+VIII
+
+Then in a voice I had never heard,
+        I had never heard,
+My only Love to me: "One word,
+    My lady, if you please!
+Whose is the child you are like to bear?--
+_His?_ After all my months of care?"
+God knows 'twas not! But, O despair!
+    I nodded--still to tease.
+
+IX
+
+Then up he sprung, and with his knife--
+        And with his knife
+He let out jeering Johnny's life,
+    Yes; there, at set of sun.
+The slant ray through the window nigh
+Gilded John's blood and glazing eye,
+Ere scarcely Mother Lee and I
+    Knew that the deed was done.
+
+X
+
+The taverns tell the gloomy tale,
+        The gloomy tale,
+How that at Ivel-chester jail
+    My Love, my sweetheart swung;
+Though stained till now by no misdeed
+Save one horse ta'en in time o' need;
+(Blue Jimmy stole right many a steed
+    Ere his last fling he flung.)
+
+XI
+
+Thereaft I walked the world alone,
+        Alone, alone!
+On his death-day I gave my groan
+    And dropped his dead-born child.
+'Twas nigh the jail, beneath a tree,
+None tending me; for Mother Lee
+Had died at Glaston, leaving me
+    Unfriended on the wild.
+
+XII
+
+And in the night as I lay weak,
+        As I lay weak,
+The leaves a-falling on my cheek,
+    The red moon low declined--
+The ghost of him I'd die to kiss
+Rose up and said: "Ah, tell me this!
+Was the child mine, or was it his?
+    Speak, that I rest may find!"
+
+XIII
+
+O doubt not but I told him then,
+        I told him then,
+That I had kept me from all men
+    Since we joined lips and swore.
+Whereat he smiled, and thinned away
+As the wind stirred to call up day ...
+--'Tis past! And here alone I stray
+    Haunting the Western Moor.
+
+1902.
+
+
+
+CHORUS FROM "THE DYNASTS"
+
+(Part III).
+
+      Last as first the question rings
+      Of the Will's long travailings;
+      Why the All-mover,
+      Why the All-prover
+Ever urges on and measures out the droning tune of Things.
+
+      Heaving dumbly
+      As we deem,
+      Moulding numbly
+      As in dream,
+Apprehending not how fare the sentient subjects of Its scheme.
+
+    Nay;--shall not Its blindness break?
+    Yea, must not Its heart awake,
+      Promptly tending
+      To Its mending
+In a genial germing purpose, and for loving-kindness' sake?
+
+      Should It never
+      Curb or cure
+      Aught whatever
+      Those endure
+Whom It quickens, let them darkle to extinction swift and sure.
+
+    But a stirring thrills the air,
+    Like to sounds of joyance there
+        That the rages
+        Of the ages
+Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered from the darts that were,
+Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair!
+
+1907.
+
+
+
+THE BALLAD SINGER
+
+Sing, Ballad-singer, raise a hearty tune;
+  Make me forget that there was ever a one
+I walked with in the meek light of the moon
+        When the day's work was done.
+
+Rhyme, Ballad-rhymer, start a country song;
+  Make me forget that she whom I loved well
+Swore she would love me dearly, love me long,
+        Then--what I cannot tell!
+
+Sing, Ballad-singer, from your little book;
+  Make me forget those heart-breaks, achings, fears;
+Make me forget her name, her sweet sweet look--
+        Make me forget her tears.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH HODGSON
+
+
+THE MOOR
+
+The world's gone forward to its latest fair
+And dropt an old man done with by the way,
+To sit alone among the bats and stare
+At miles and miles and miles of moorland bare
+Lit only with last shreds of dying day.
+
+Not all the world, not all the world's gone by;
+Old man, you're like to meet one traveller still,
+A journeyman well kenned for courtesy
+To all that walk at odds with life and limb;
+If this be he now riding up the hill
+Maybe he'll stop and take you up with him....
+
+"But thou art Death?" "Of Heavenly Seraphim
+None else to seek thee out and bid thee come."
+"I only care that thou art come from Him,
+Unbody me--I'm tired--and get me home."
+
+
+
+TIME, YOU OLD GIPSY MAN
+
+Time, you old gipsy man,
+  Will you not stay,
+Put up your caravan
+  Just for one day?
+
+All things I'll give you
+Will you be my guest,
+Bells for your jennet
+Of silver the best,
+Goldsmiths shall beat you
+A great golden ring,
+Peacocks shall bow to you,
+Little boys sing,
+Oh, and sweet girls will
+Festoon you with may,
+Time, you old gipsy,
+Why hasten away?
+
+Last week in Babylon,
+Last night in Rome,
+Morning, and in the crush
+Under Paul's dome;
+Under Paul's dial
+You tighten your rein,
+Only a moment
+And off once again;
+Off to some city
+Now blind in the womb,
+Off to another
+Ere that's in the tomb.
+
+Time, you old gipsy man,
+  Will you not stay,
+Put up your caravan
+  Just for one day?
+
+
+
+GHOUL CARE
+
+Sour fiend, go home and tell the Pit:
+For once you met your master,
+A man who carried in his soul
+Three charms against disaster,
+The Devil and disaster.
+
+Away, away, and tell the tale
+And start your whelps a-whining,
+Say "In the greenwood of his soul
+A lizard's eye was shining,
+A little eye kept shining."
+
+Away, away, and salve your sores,
+And set your hags a-groaning,
+Say "In the greenwood of his soul
+A drowsy bee was droning,
+A dreamy bee was droning."
+
+Prodigious Bat! Go start the walls
+Of Hell with horror ringing,
+Say "In the greenwood of his soul
+There was a goldfinch singing,
+A pretty goldfinch singing."
+
+And then come back, come, if you please,
+A fiercer ghoul and ghaster,
+With all the glooms and smuts of Hell
+Behind you, I'm your master!
+You know I'm still your master.
+
+
+
+
+W. G. HOLE
+
+
+ROOSEVELT-VILLAGE STREET
+
+Nought is there here the eye to strike--
+    Uncurved canals where barges ply;
+A hundred hamlets all alike;
+
+    Flat fields that cut an arc of sky
+With men and women o'er them bent
+    Who needs must labour lest they die.
+
+Would any say that lives so spent
+    Might break, spurred on by love and pride,
+Their bars of animal content?
+
+    Nay, here live men unvexed, untried--
+I mused. Yet pacing Roosevelt street
+    In idle humour I espied
+
+A village man and woman meet,
+    And pass with never word or sign--
+So strange in neighbour-folk whose feet
+
+    Haunt the same fields in rain and shine
+That, curious eyed, in either face,
+    In curve of lip, or graven line,
+
+I sought for hints of pain or trace
+    Of harsh resolve, and so grew ware
+That hers was as a hiding place
+
+    Where lurked the kinship of despair;
+While his bore record deeply wrought
+    That life for him had but one care,
+
+And that--to mesh re-iterant thought
+    In labour, till at last his soul
+Should find the anodyne it sought.
+
+    Hence now with dreary face he stole
+Through Roosevelt Street, nor stretched his hand
+    To beg from life its smallest dole.
+
+And yet these two had loved and planned
+    To happiest end, but for the flood
+That wrecks, upreared on rock or sand,
+
+    The house of hopes. Thus--cold of mood,
+He, loving wholly, could but choose
+    To deem her heart as his subdued;
+
+While she, as maidens oft-times use,
+    Denied sweet proofs of love, was fain
+To gain them by the world-old ruse;
+
+    And failing, vexed to find that vain
+Was all her pretty reticence,
+    She happed upon a worthless swain
+
+On whom, reserved the gold, the pence
+    Of liberal smiles she flung away,
+Till, snared by her own innocence,
+
+    She fell--Ah, God! how far that day
+She fell--from hope and promise plumb,
+    To deeps where lips forget to pray.
+
+But he, apart, with sorrow dumb,
+    Beheld, scarce conscious of the strife,
+Himself in her by fate o'ercome;
+
+    And as she passed to her new life,
+Righted by still more wrong, divined
+    Her hate for him who called her wife,
+
+And on the hoarded knowledge pined
+    And starved, till he, as she, was dead,
+And nought remained but to unwind
+
+    His coil of days. So with slow tread
+He goes his way through Roosevelt Street
+    At night and morn, nor turns his head
+
+When past him comes the sound of feet--
+    Of ghostly feet that long ago
+In life had made his pulses beat.
+
+    For, mark you, both are dead, and so
+Small wonder is it nought should pass
+    Betwixt them in the street, I trow.
+
+Yet still they move with that huge mass
+    Of life unpurposeful that reaps
+The corn in season, mows the grass,
+
+    And then by right of labour sleeps
+With privilege of dreams that ape
+    Fulfilment, whereby each may creep
+
+From pain through doors of dear escape;
+    Save such, unhappy, as would win
+Some respite for themselves, and shape
+
+    Those passionate, deep appeals that din
+The Powers, ere season due, to stay
+    The long slow tragedies of sin.
+
+
+
+THE HAUNTED FIELDS
+
+I know of fields by voices haunted still
+      That years ago grew hushed;
+      Whose buttercups are brushed
+By feet that long have ceased to climb the hill.
+
+On whose green slopes the happy children play
+      As on a mother's lap,
+      Then steal through gate and gap,
+And by strange hedge-rows make their wondering way.
+
+Sometimes great seas of ripening corn they spy
+      Across whose rippling face
+      The shadowy billows race
+And round the gate, forlornly whispering, die;
+
+Or in dark rutted lanes by weeds o'ergrown,
+      Round-eyed they watch a thrush
+      That breaks the noonday hush
+Dashing with zest a snail against a stone;
+
+At others, on an impulse waxing brave,
+      They climb the churchyard wall
+      And, marvelling at it all,
+See strange black people gathered round a grave.
+
+Then, without question, hurrying up the lane,
+      They seek once more their own--
+      That world in which is known
+No fear of death, nor thought of change or pain.
+
+Where still they call and answer, still they play,
+      And summer is ever there;
+      But I--I never dare
+Pass through those fields, retrace the well-known way,
+
+Lest I might meet a lad whom once I knew,
+      Whose eyes accusingly
+      Should make demand of me:
+"Where are those dreams I left in charge with you?"
+
+
+
+CAPTIVE IN LONDON TOWN
+
+There comes a ghostly space
+  'Twixt midnight and the dawn,
+When from the heart of London Town
+  The tides of life are drawn.
+
+What time, when Spring is due,
+  The captives dungeoned deep
+Beneath the stones of London Town
+  Grow troubled in their sleep,
+
+And wake--mint, mallow, dock,
+  Brambles in bondage sore,
+And grasses shut in London Town
+  A thousand years and more.
+
+Yet though beneath the stones
+  They starve, and overhead
+The countless feet pace London Town
+  Of men who hold them dead,
+
+Like Samson, blind and scorned,
+  In pain their time they bide
+To seize the roots of London Town
+  And tumble down its pride.
+
+Now well by proof and sign,
+  By men unheard, unseen,
+They know that far from London Town
+  The woods once more are green.
+
+But theirs is still to wait,
+  Deaf to the myriad hum,
+Beneath the stones of London Town
+  A Spring that needs must come.
+
+
+
+
+LAURENCE HOUSMAN
+
+
+THE FELLOW-TRAVELLERS
+
+Fellow-travellers here with me,
+    Loose for good each other's loads!
+    Here we come to the cross-roads:
+Here must parting be.
+
+Where will you five be to-night?
+    Where shall I? we little know:
+    Loosed from you, I let you go
+Utterly from sight.
+
+Far away go taste and touch,
+    Far go sight, and sound, and smell.
+    Fellow-Travellers, fare you well,--
+You I loved so much.
+
+
+
+THE SETTLERS
+
+How green the earth, how blue the sky,
+  How pleasant all the days that pass,
+Here where the British settlers lie
+  Beneath their cloaks of grass!
+
+Here ancient peace resumes her round,
+  And rich from toil stand hill and plain;
+Men reap and store; but they sleep sound,
+  The men who sowed the grain.
+
+Hard to the plough their hands they put,
+  And wheresoe'er the soil had need
+The furrow drave, and underfoot
+  They sowed themselves for seed.
+
+Ah! not like him whose hand made yield
+  The brazen kine with fiery breath,
+And over all the Colchian field
+  Strewed far the seeds of death;
+
+Till, as day sank, awoke to war
+  The seedlings of the dragon's teeth,
+And death ran multiplied once more
+  Across the hideous heath.
+
+But rich in flocks be all these farms,
+  And fruitful be the fields which hide
+Brave eyes that loved the light, and arms
+  That never clasped a bride!
+
+O willing hearts turned quick to clay,
+  Glad lovers holding death in scorn,
+Out of the lives ye cast away
+  The coming race is born.
+
+
+
+SONG
+
+Sleep lies in every cup
+  Of land or flower:
+Look how the earth drains up
+  Her evening hour!
+
+Each face that once so laughed,
+  Now fain would lift
+Lips to Life's sleeping-draught,
+  The goodlier gift.
+
+Oh, whence this overflow,
+  This flood of rest?
+What vale of healing so
+  Unlocks her breast?
+
+What land, to give us right
+  Of refuge, yields
+To the sharp scythes of light
+  Her poppied fields?
+
+Nay, wait! our turn to make
+  Amends grows due!
+Another day will break,
+  We must give too!
+
+
+
+
+EMILIA STUART LORIMER
+
+
+LOVE SONGS
+
+I
+
+White-dreaming face of my dear,
+Waken; the dawn is here.
+
+Ope, oh so misty eyes;
+Keep ope, and recognize!
+
+Mouth, o'er the far sleep-sea
+Spread now thy smile-wings for me.
+
+II
+
+Take from me the little flowers
+And the bright-eyed beasts and the birds;
+And the babies, oh God, take away;
+Hearken my praying-words;
+Empty my road of them,
+Empty my house and my arm,
+For black is my heart with hate,
+And I would not these come to harm.
+
+
+
+STORM
+
+Twigs of despair on the high trees uplifted,
+  Torn cloud flying behind;
+Whistling wind through the dead leaves drifted;
+  Oho! my mind
+With you is racked and ruined and rifted.
+
+Waves of the angry firth high-flying,
+  Rainstorm striping the sea,
+Sleet-mist shrouding the hills; day dying;
+  Now around me
+Closes the darkness of night in, wild crying.
+
+God of the storm, in thy storm's heart unmeted
+  My shallop-soul rideth where roars
+The swirling water-spout--rides undefeated;
+  No rudder, no oars;
+Only within, thy small image seated.
+
+
+
+
+JAMES A. MACKERETH
+
+
+TO A BLACKBIRD ON NEW YEAR'S DAY
+
+Hail, truant with song-troubled breast--
+Thou welcome and bewildering guest!
+Blithe troubadour, whose laughing note
+Brings Spring into a poet's throat,--
+Flute, feathered joy! thy painted bill
+          Foretells the daffodil.
+
+Enchanter, 'gainst the evening star
+Singing to worlds where dreamers are,
+That makes upon the leafless bough
+A solitary vernal vow--
+Sing, lyric soul! within thy song
+The love that lures the rose along!
+
+The snowdrop, hearing, in the dell
+Doth tremble for its virgin bell;
+The crocus feels within its frame
+The magic of its folded flame;
+And many a listening patience lies
+And pushes toward its paradise.
+
+Young love again on golden gales
+Scents hawthorn blown down happy dales;
+The phantom cuckoo calls forlorn
+From limits of the haunted morn;--
+Sing, elfin heart! thy notes to me
+Are bells that ring in Faery!
+
+Again the world is young, is young,
+And silence takes a silver tongue;
+The echoes catch the lyric mood
+Of laughing children in the wood:
+Blithe April trips in winter's way
+And nature, wondering, dreams of May.
+
+Sing on, thou dusky fount of life!
+God love thee for a merry sprite!
+Sing on! for though the sun be coy
+I sense with thee a budding joy,
+And all my heart with ranging rhyme
+    Is poet for the prime!
+
+
+
+LA DANSEUSE
+
+She moved like silence swathed in light,
+  Like mists at morning clear;
+A music that enamoured sight
+  Yet did elude the ear.
+
+A rapture and a spirit clad
+  In motion soft as sleep;
+The epitome of all things glad,
+  The sum of all that weep;
+
+Her form was like a poet's mind--
+  By all sensations sought;
+She seemed the substance of the wind,
+  The shape of lyric thought,--
+
+A being 'mid terrestrial things
+  Transcendently forlorn,
+From time bound far on filmy wings
+  For some diviner bourne.
+
+The rhythms of the raptured heart
+  Swayed to her sweet control;
+Life in her keeping all was art,
+  And all of body soul.
+
+Lone-shimmering in the roseate air
+  She seemed to ebb and flow,
+A memory, perilously fair,
+  And pale from long ago.
+
+She stooped to time's remembered tears,
+  Yearned to undawned delight.
+Ah beauty, passionate from the years!
+  Oh body wise and white!
+
+She vanished like an evening cloud,
+  A sunset's radiant gleam.
+She vanished ... Life awhile endowed
+  The darkness with a dream.
+
+
+
+GOD RETURNS
+
+Dear God, before Thee many weep
+  And bow the solemn knee;
+But I who have thy joy to keep
+  Will sing and dance for Thee.
+
+Come, lilt ye, lilt ye, lightsome birds,
+  For ye are glad as I;
+Come frisk, ye sunlit flocks and herds
+  And cherubs of the sky;
+
+Sweet elfin mischief of the hill,
+  We'll share a laugh together--
+Oh half the world is hoyden still,
+  And waits for whistling weather!
+
+The God of age is staid and old,
+  And asks a sober tongue;
+But till the heart of youth is cold
+  The God of youth is young!
+
+Then kiss, blithe lass and happy lad!
+  The rainbow passes over,
+And love and life, the leal and glad,
+  Must step with time the rover.
+
+Trip buds and bells in spangled ways!
+  Leap, leaves in every tree!
+Ye winds and waters, nights and days,
+  Dance, dance for Deity.
+
+On every hand is elfin land,
+  And faery gifts are falling;
+Across the world, a twinkling band,
+  The elves are calling--calling.
+
+In welcome smile the witching skies,
+  And with a jocund train,
+With dancing joy-light in His eyes,
+  God, God comes home again!
+
+
+
+
+ALICE MEYNELL
+
+
+TO THE BODY
+
+  Thou inmost, ultimate
+Council of judgment, palace of decrees,
+Where the high senses hold their spiritual state,
+  Sued by earth's embassies,
+And sign, approve, accept, conceive, create;
+
+  Create--thy senses close
+With the world's pleas. The random odours reach
+Their sweetness in the place of thy repose,
+  Upon thy tongue the peach,
+And in thy nostrils breathes the breathing rose.
+
+  To thee, secluded one,
+The dark vibrations of the sightless skies,
+The lovely inexplicit colours run;
+  The light gropes for those eyes.
+O thou august! thou dost command the sun.
+
+  Music, all dumb, hath trod
+Into thine ear her one effectual way;
+And fire and cold approach to gain thy nod,
+  Where thou call'st up the day,
+Where thou await'st the appeal of God.
+
+
+
+CHRIST IN THE UNIVERSE
+
+  With this ambiguous earth
+His dealings have been told us. These abide:
+The signal to a maid, the human birth,
+  The lesson, and the young Man crucified.
+
+  But not a star of all
+The innumerable host of stars has heard
+  How He administered this terrestrial ball.
+Our race have kept their Lord's entrusted Word.
+
+  Of His earth-visiting feet
+None knows the secret, cherished, perilous,
+  The terrible, shamefast, frightened, whispered, sweet,
+Heart-shattering secret of His way with us.
+
+  No planet knows that this
+Our wayside planet, carrying land and wave,
+  Love and life multiplied, and pain and bliss,
+Bears, as chief treasure, one forsaken grave.
+
+  Nor, in our little day,
+May His devices with the heavens be guessed,
+  His pilgrimage to thread the Milky Way
+Or His bestowals there be manifest.
+
+  But in the eternities,
+Doubtless we shall compare together, hear
+  A million alien Gospels, in what guise
+He trod the Pleiades, the Lyre, the Bear.
+
+  O, be prepared, my soul!
+To read the inconceivable, to scan
+  The million forms of God those stars unroll
+When, in our turn, we show to them a Man.
+
+
+
+MATERNITY
+
+One wept whose only child was dead,
+  New-born, ten years ago.
+"Weep not; he is in bliss," they said.
+  She answered, "Even so.
+
+"Ten years ago was born in pain
+  A child, not now forlorn.
+But oh, ten years ago, in vain,
+  A mother, a mother was born."
+
+
+
+
+WILL H. OGILVIE
+
+
+THERE'S A CLEAN WIND BLOWING
+
+There's a clean wind blowing
+  Over hill-flower and peat,
+Where the bell heather's growing,
+  And the brown burn flowing,
+And the ghost-shadows going
+  Down the glen on stealthy feet.
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+  And the breath of it is sweet.
+
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+  And the world holds but three:
+The purple peak against the sky,
+  The master wind, and me.
+The moor birds are tossing
+  Like ships upon the sea;
+There's a clean wind blowing
+        Free.
+
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+  Untainted of the town,
+A fair-hitting foeman
+  With his glove flung down.
+Will ye take his lordly challenge
+  And the gauntlet that he throws,
+And come forth among the heather
+  Where the clean wind blows!
+
+
+
+THE GARDEN OF THE NIGHT
+
+The Night is a far-spreading garden, and all through the hours
+Glisten and glitter and sparkle her wonderful flowers.
+First the great moon-rose full blooming; the great bed of stars
+Touching with restful gold petals the woodland's dark bars;
+Then arc-lights like asters that blossom in street and in square,
+And lamps like primroses beyond them in planted parterre;
+Great tulips of crimson that rise from the factory towers;
+White lilies that drop from deep windows: all flowers, the Night's flowers!
+
+Blooms on the highway that twinkle and fade like the stars,
+Golden and red on the vans and the carts and the cars;
+Clusters of bloom in the village; lone homesteads a-light,
+Decking the lawns of the darkness, the plots of the Night.
+Then the bright blossoms of platform and signal that shine
+By the iron-paved path of the garden--the lights of the Line;
+The gold flowers of comfort and caution; the buds of dull red,
+Sombre with warning; the green leaves that say "Right ahead!"
+
+Then the flowers in the harbour that low to the tide of it lean;
+The lights on the port and the starboard, the red and the green,
+Mixing and mingling with mast lights that move in the air,
+And deck lights and wharf lights and lights upon pier-head and stair;
+An edging of gold where a liner steals by like a thief;
+The giant grey gleam of a searchlight that swings like a leaf;
+And far out to seaward faint petals that flutter and fall
+Against the white flower of the Lighthouse that gathers them all.
+
+Then flower lights all golden with welcome--the lights of the inn;
+And poisonous hell-flowers, lit doorways that beckon to sin;
+Soft vesper flowers of the Churches with dark stems above;
+Gold flowers of court and of cottage made one flower by love;
+Beacons of windows on hillside and cliff to recall
+Some wanderer lost for a season--Night's flowers one and all!
+In the street, in the lane, on the Line, on the ships and the towers,
+In the windows of cottage and palace--all flowers, the Night's flowers!
+
+
+
+THE CROSSING SWORDS
+
+As I lay dreaming in the grass
+I saw a Knight of Tourney pass--
+All conquering Summer. Twilit hours
+Made soft light round him, rainbow flowers
+    Hung on his harness.
+
+        Down the dells
+The fairy heralds rang blue-bells,
+And even as they rocked and rang
+Into the lists, full-armed, there sprang
+Autumn, his helm the harvest moon,
+His sword a sickle, the gleaner's tune
+        His hymn of battle.
+
+        Each bowed full low,
+Knight to knight as to worthy foe,
+Then Autumn tossed as his gauntlet down--
+A leaf of the lime tree, golden brown--
+And Summer bound it above the green
+Of his shining breast-plate's verdant sheen.
+
+--They closed. Above them the driving mists
+Stooped and feathered--and hid the lists.
+Later the cloud mist rolled away
+But dead in his harness the Green Knight lay.
+
+
+
+
+STEPHEN PHILLIPS
+
+
+LURES IMMORTAL
+
+Sadly, apparently frustrate, life hangs above us,
+  Cruel, dark unexplained;
+Yet still the immortal through mortal incessantly pierces
+  With calls, with appeals, and with lures.
+Lure of the sinking sun, into undreamed islands,
+  Fortunate, far in the West;
+Lure of the star, with speechless news o'er brimming,
+  With language of darted light;
+Of the sea-glory of opening lids of Aurora,
+  Ushering eyes of the dawn;
+Of the callow bird in the matin darkness calling,
+  Chorus of drowsy charm;
+Of the wind, south-west, with whispering leaves illumined,
+  Solemn gold of the woods;
+Of the intimate breeze of noon, deep-charged with a message,
+  How near, at times, unto speech!
+Of the sea, that soul of a poet a-yearn for expression,
+  For ever yearning in vain!
+Hoarse o'er the shingle with loud, unuttered meanings,
+  Hurling on caverns his heart.
+Of the summer night, what to communicate, eager?
+  Perchance the secret of peace.
+The lure of the silver to gold, of the pale unto colour,
+  Of the seen to the real unseen;
+Of voices away to the voiceless, of sound unto silence,
+  Of words to a wordless calm;
+Of music doomed unto wandering, still returning,
+  Ever to heaven and home.
+The lure of the beautiful woman through flesh unto spirit,
+  Through a smile unto endless light;
+Of the flight of a bird thro' evening over the marsh-land,
+  Lingering in Heaven alone;
+Of the vessel disappearing over the sea-marge,
+  With him or with her that we love;
+Of the sudden touch in the hand of a friend or a maiden,
+  Thrilling up to the stars.
+The appealing death of a soldier, the moon just rising,
+  Kindling the battle-field;
+Of the cup of water, refused by the thirsting Sidney,
+  Parched with the final pang:
+Of the crucified Christ, yet lo, those arms extended,
+  Wide, as a world to embrace;
+And last, and grandest, the lure, the invitation,
+  And sacred wooing of death;
+Unto what regions, or heavens, or solemn spaces,
+  Who, but by dying, can tell?
+
+
+
+BEAUTIFUL LIE THE DEAD
+
+Beautiful lie the dead;
+  Clear comes each feature;
+Satisfied not to be,
+  Strangely contented.
+
+Like ships, the anchor dropped,
+  Furled every sail is
+Mirrored with all their masts
+  In a deep water.
+
+
+
+A LYRIC FROM "THE SIN OF DAVID"
+
+I
+
+Red skies above a level land
+  And thoughts of thee;
+Sinking Sun on reedy strand,
+  And alder tree.
+
+II
+
+Only the heron sailing home
+  With heavy flight!
+Ocean afar in silent foam,
+  And coming night!
+
+III
+
+Dwindling day and drowsing birds,
+  O my child!
+Dimness and returning herds,
+  Memory wild.
+
+
+
+
+EDEN PHILLPOTTS
+
+
+A DEVON COURTING
+
+Birds gived over singin'
+Flitter-mice was wingin'
+Mist lay on the meadows--
+A purty sight to see.
+Downling in the dimpsy, the dimpsy, the dimpsy--
+Downling in the dimpsy
+Theer went a maid wi' me.
+
+Two gude mile o' walkin'
+Not wan word o' talkin',
+Then I axed a question
+An' put the same to she.
+Uplong in the owl-light, the owl-light, the owl-light--
+Uplong in the owl-light
+Theer come my maid wi' me.
+
+
+
+A LITANY TO PAN
+
+By the abortions of the teeming Spring,
+By Summer's starved and withered offering,
+By Autumn's stricken hope and Winter's sting,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By the ichneumon on the writhing worm,
+By the swift, far-flung poison of the germ,
+By soft and foul brought out of hard and firm,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By the fierce battle under every blade,
+By the etiolation of the shade,
+By drouth and thirst and things undone half made,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By all the horrors of re-quickened dust,
+By the eternal waste of baffled lust,
+By mildews and by cankers and by rust,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By the fierce scythe of Spring upon the wold,
+By the dead eaning mother in the fold,
+By stillborn, stricken young and tortured old,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By fading eyes pecked from a dying head,
+By the hot mouthful of a thing not dead,
+By all thy bleeding, struggling, shrieking red,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By madness caged and madness running free,
+Through this our conscious race that heeds not thee,
+In its concept insane of Liberty,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By all the agonies of all the past,
+By earth's cold dust and ashes at the last,
+By her return to the unconscious vast,
+Oh, hear!
+
+
+
+SWINBURNE
+
+Children and lovers and the cloud-robed sea
+Shall mourn him first; and then the mother land
+Weeping in silence by his empty hand
+And fallen sword that flashed for Liberty.
+Song-bringer of a glad new minstrelsy,
+He came and found joy sleeping and swift fanned
+Old pagan fires, then snatched an altar brand
+And wrote, "The fearless only shall be free!"
+    Oh, by the flame that made thine heart a home,
+    By the wild surges of thy silver song,
+    Seer before the sunrise, may there come
+    Spirits of dawn to light this aching wrong
+    Called Earth! Thou saw'st them in the foreglow roam;
+    But we still wait and watch, still thirst and long.
+
+
+
+
+DORA SIGERSON SHORTER
+
+
+THE WATCHER IN THE WOOD
+
+Deep in the wood's recesses cool
+  I see the fairy dancers glide,
+In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
+  My lord and lady side by side.
+
+But who has hung from leaf to leaf,
+  From flower to flower, a silken twine--
+A cloud of grey that holds the dew
+  In globes of clear enchanted wine.
+
+Or stretches far from branch to branch,
+  From thorn to thorn, in diamond rain,
+Who caught the cup of crystal pine
+  And hung so fair the shining chain?
+
+'Tis Death, the spider, in his net
+  Who lures the dancers as they glide
+In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
+  My lord and lady side by side.
+
+
+
+THE NAMELESS ONE
+
+Last night a hand pushed on the door
+And tirled at the pin.
+I turned my face unto the wall,
+And could not cry, "Come in!"
+I dared not cry "Come in!"
+
+Last night a voice wailed round the house
+And called my name upon,
+And bitter, bitter did it mourn:
+"Where is my mother gone?
+Where is my mother gone?"
+
+From saintly arms I slipped and flew
+Adown the moon-lit skies,
+I weary of the paths of Heav'n
+And flowers of Paradise--
+Sweet scents of Paradise!
+
+"For little children prattle there,
+And whisper all the day
+Of lovely mothers on the earth,
+Where once they used to play,
+Who used with them to play.
+
+"They linger laughing by the door,
+And wait the threshold on;
+I have no memory so fair,
+Where is my mother gone?
+Where is my mother gone?"
+
+Thrice pushed the hand upon the door
+And tirled at the pin.
+I turned my face unto the wall,
+And could not cry, "Come in!"
+I dared not cry, "Come in!"
+
+
+
+WHEN I SHALL RISE
+
+When I shall rise, and full of many fears,
+  Set forth upon my last long journey lone,
+And leave behind the circling earth to go
+  Amongst the countless stars to seek God's throne.
+
+When in the vapourish blue, I wander, lost,
+  Let some fair paradise reward my eyes--
+Hill after hill, and green and sunny vale,
+  As I have known beneath the Irish skies.
+
+So on the far horizon I shall see
+  No alien land but this I hold so dear--
+Killiney's silver sands, and Wicklow hills,
+  Dawn on my frightened eyes as I draw near.
+
+And if it be no evil prayer to breathe,
+  Oh, let no stranger saint or seraphim
+Wait there to lead up to the judgment seat,
+  My timid soul with weeping eyes and dim.
+
+But let them come, those dear and lovely ghosts,
+  In all their human guise and lustihood,
+To stand upon that shore and call me home,
+  Waving their joyful hands as once they stood--
+  As once they stood!
+
+
+
+
+ARTHUR SYMONS
+
+
+TANAGRA
+
+To Cavalieri dancing
+
+Tell me, Tanagra, who made
+Out of clay so sweet a thing?
+Are you the immortal shade
+Of a man's imagining?
+In your incarnation meet
+All things fair and all things fleet.
+
+Arrow from Diana's bow,
+Atalanta's feet of fire,
+Some one made you long ago,
+Made you out of his desire.
+Waken from the sleep of clay
+And rise and dance the world away.
+
+
+
+GIOVANNI MALATESTA AT RIMINI
+
+Giovanni Malatesta, the lame old man,
+Walking one night, as he was used, being old,
+Upon the grey seashore at Rimini,
+And thinking dimly of those two whom love
+Led to one death, and his less happy soul
+For which Cain waited, heard a seagull scream,
+Twice, like Francesca; for he struck but twice.
+At that, rage thrust down pity; for it seemed
+As if those windy bodies with the sea's
+Unfriended heart within them for a voice
+Had turned to mock him, and he called them friends,
+And he had found a wild peace hearing them
+Cry senseless cries, halloing to the wind.
+He turned his back upon the sea; he saw
+The ragged teeth of the sharp Apennines
+Shut on the sea; his shadow in the moon
+Ploughed up a furrow with an iron staff
+In the hard sand, and thrust a long lean chin
+Outward and downward, and thrust out a foot,
+And leaned to follow after. As he saw
+His crooked knee go forward under him
+And after it the long straight iron staff,
+"The staff," he thought, "is Paolo: like that staff
+And like that knee we walked between the sun,
+And her unmerciful eyes"; and the old man,
+Thinking of God, and how God ruled the world,
+And gave to one man beauty for a snare
+And a warped body to another man,
+Not less than he in soul, not less than he
+In hunger and capacity for joy,
+Forgot Francesca's evil and his wrong,
+His anger, his revenge, that memory,
+Wondering at man's forgiveness of the old
+Divine injustice, wondering at himself:
+Giovanni Malatesta judging God.
+
+
+
+LA MELINITE: MOULIN ROUGE
+
+  Olivier Metra's Waltz of Roses
+Sheds in a rhythmic shower
+The very petals of the flower;
+  And all is roses,
+The rouge of petals in a shower.
+
+  Down the long hall the dance returning
+Rounds the full circle, rounds
+The perfect rose of lights and sounds,
+  The rose returning
+Into the circle of its rounds.
+
+  Alone, apart, one dancer watches
+Her mirrored, morbid grace;
+Before the mirror, face to face,
+  Alone she watches
+Her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.
+
+  Before the mirror's dance of shadows
+She dances in a dream,
+And she and they together seem
+  A dance of shadows,
+Alike the shadows of a dream.
+
+  The orange-rosy lamps are trembling
+Between the robes that turn;
+In ruddy flowers of flame that burn
+  The lights are trembling:
+The shadows and the dancers turn.
+
+  And, enigmatically smiling,
+In the mysterious night,
+She dances for her own delight,
+  A shadow smiling
+Back to a shadow in the night.
+
+
+
+
+EVELYN UNDERHILL
+
+
+IMMANENCE
+
+I come in the little things,
+Saith the Lord:
+Not borne on morning wings
+Of majesty, but I have set My Feet
+Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat
+That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod.
+There do I dwell, in weakness and in power;
+Not broken or divided, saith our God!
+In your strait garden plot I come to flower:
+About your porch My Vine
+Meek, fruitful, doth entwine;
+Waits, at the threshold, Love's appointed hour.
+
+I come in the little things,
+Saith the Lord:
+Yea! on the glancing wings
+Of eager birds, the softly pattering feet
+Of furred and gentle beasts, I come to meet
+Your hard and wayward heart. In brown bright eyes
+That peep from out the brake, I stand confest.
+On every nest
+Where feathery Patience is content to brood
+And leaves her pleasure for the high emprise
+Of motherhood--
+There doth my Godhead rest.
+
+I come in the little things,
+Saith the Lord:
+My starry wings
+I do forsake,
+Love's highway of humility to take;
+Meekly I fit my stature to your need.
+In beggar's part
+About your gates I shall not cease to plead--
+As man, to speak with man--
+Till by such art
+I shall achieve My Immemorial Plan,
+Pass the low lintel of the human heart.
+
+
+
+INTROVERSION
+
+What do you seek within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    What do you seek within?
+I seek a life that shall never die,
+          Some haven to win
+          From mortality.
+
+What do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    What do you find within?
+I find great quiet where no noises come.
+          Without, the world's din:
+          Silence in my home.
+
+Whom do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    Whom do you find within?
+I find a friend that in secret came:
+          His scarred hands within
+          He shields a faint flame.
+
+What would you do within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    What would you do within?
+Bar door and window that none may see:
+    That alone we may be
+          (Alone! face to face,
+          In that flame-lit place!)
+          When first we begin
+    To speak one with another.
+
+
+
+ICHTHUS
+
+      Threatening the sky,
+          Foreign and wild the sea,
+          Yet all the fleet of fishers are afloat;
+          They lie
+          Sails furled
+      Each frail and tossing boat,
+And cast their little nets into an unknown world.
+The countless, darting splendours that they miss,
+The rare and vital magic of the main,
+      The which for all their care
+      They never shall ensnare--
+          All this
+      Perchance in dreams they know;
+          Yet are content
+      And count the night well spent
+          If so
+      The indrawn net contain
+The matter of their daily nourishment.
+
+      The unseizable sea,
+The circumambient grace of Deity,
+      Where live and move
+Unnumbered presences of power and love,
+      Slips through our finest net:
+      We draw it up all wet,
+A-shimmer with the dew-drops of that deep.
+          And yet
+For all their toil the fishers may not keep
+The instant living freshness of the wave;
+      Its passing benediction cannot give
+      The mystic meat they crave
+          That they may live.
+
+          But on some stormy night
+          We, venturing far from home,
+And casting our poor trammel to the tide,
+          Perhaps shall feel it come
+          Back to the vessel's side,
+            So easy and so light
+              A child might lift,
+Yet hiding in its mesh the one desired gift;
+            That living food
+Which man for ever seeks to snatch from out the flood.
+
+
+
+
+MRS MARGARET L. WOODS
+
+
+SONGS
+
+I've heard, I've heard
+The long low note of a bird,
+The nightingale fluting her heart's one word.
+
+I know, I know
+Pink carnations heaped with snow.
+Summer and winter alike they blow.
+
+I've lain, I've lain
+Under roses' delicate rain,
+That fall and whisper and fall again.
+
+Come woe, come white
+Shroud o' the world, black night!
+I have had love and the sun's light.
+
+
+
+THE CHANGELING
+
+When did the Changeling enter in?
+How did the Devil set him a gin
+Where the little soul lay like a rabbit
+Faint and still for a fiend to grab it?
+        I know not.
+
+Where was the fount of our dishonour?
+Was it a father's buried sin?
+Brought his mother a curse upon her?
+        I trow not.
+
+        So pretty
+Body and soul, the child began.
+He carolled and kissed and laughed and ran,
+A glad creature of Earth and Heaven,
+And the knowledge of love and the secret of pity,
+        That need our learning,
+God to him at his birth had given.
+
+        One remembers
+Trifles indeed--the backward-turning
+Way he would smile from the field at play.
+Sometimes the Thing that sits by the embers
+Smiles at me--devil!--the selfsame way.
+If only early enough one had guessed,
+Known, suspected, watched him at rest,
+Noted the Master's sign and fashion,
+And unbefooled by the heart's compassion,
+Undeterred by form and feature,
+        Caught the creature,
+Tried by the test of water and fire,
+Pierced and pinioned with silver wire,
+Circled with signs that could control,
+Battered with spells that tame and torture
+        The demon nature,
+Till he writhed in his shape, a fiend confest,
+        And vanished--
+  Then had come back, the poor soul banished,
+Then had come back the little soul.
+But now there is nothing to do or to say.
+Will no one grip him and tear him away,
+The Thing of Blood that gnaws at my breast?
+
+Perhaps he called me and I was dumb.
+Unconcerned I sat and heard
+        Little things,
+    Ivy tendrils, a bird's wings,
+        A frightened bird--
+Or faint hands at the window-pane?
+And now he will never come again,
+The little soul. He is quite lost.
+
+I have summoned him back with incantations
+Of heart-deep sobs and whispering cries,
+Of anguished love and travail of prayer,
+    Nothing has answered my despair
+        But long sighs
+Of pitiful wind in the fir-plantations.
+Poor little soul! He cannot come.
+Perchance on a night when trees were tost,
+The Changeling rode with his cavalcade
+Among the clouds, that were tossing too,
+    And made the little soul afraid.
+They hunted him madly, the howling crew,
+Into the Limbo of the lost,
+Into the Limbo of the others
+Who wander crying and calling their mothers.
+
+        Now I know
+The creatures that come to harry and raid
+How they ride in the airy regions,
+Dance their rounds on meadow and moor,
+Gallop under the earth in legions,
+Hunt and holloa and run their races
+Over tombs in burial-places.
+
+In the common roads where people go,
+Masked and mingled with human traces,
+I have marked, I who know,
+In the common dust a devil's spoor.
+
+        To somebody's gate
+A Thing is footing it, cares not much
+Whether he creep through an Emperor's portal
+And steal the fate
+Of a Prince, or into a poor man's hutch--
+For the grief will be everywhere as great
+And he'll everywhere spread the smirch of sin--
+So long as a taste of our blood he may win,
+So long as he may become a mortal.
+
+        I beseech you,
+Prince and poor man, to watch the gate.
+The heart is poisoned where he has fed,
+The house is ruined that lets him in.
+Yet I know I shall never teach you.
+With the voice of the dear and the eyes of the dead
+He will come to the door, and you'll let him in.
+
+        If I could forget
+Only that ever I had a child,
+If only upon some mirk midnight,
+When he stands at the door, all wet and wild,
+With his owl's feather and dripping hair,
+    I could lie warm and not care,
+I should rid myself of this Changeling yet.
+
+I carried my woe to the Wise Man yonder,
+"You sell forgetfulness, they say.
+        How much to pay
+To forget a son who is my sorrow?"
+
+The Wise Man began to ponder.
+"Charms have I, many a one,
+To make a woman forget her lover,
+A man his wife or a fortune fled,
+To make the day forget the morrow,
+The doer forget the deed he has done,
+But a mighty spell must I borrow
+To make a woman forget her son,
+For this I will take a royal fee.
+        Your house," said he,
+"The storied hangings richly cover,
+On your banquet table there were six
+Golden branched candlesticks,
+    And of noble dishes you had a score.
+        The crown you wore
+I remember, the sparkling crown.
+        All of these,
+Madam, you shall pay me down.
+Also the day I give you ease
+Of golden guineas you pay a hundred."
+
+Laughing I left the Wise Man's door.
+Has he found such things where a Changeling sits?
+The home is darkened from roof to floor,
+The house is naked and ravaged and plundered
+        Where a Changling sits
+On the hearthstone, warming his shivering fits.
+
+He sits at his ease, for he knows well
+        He can keep his post.
+He has left me nothing to pay the cost
+Of snatching my heart from his private Hell.
+
+Yet when all is done and told
+I am glad the Wise Man in the City
+        Had no pity
+For me, and for him I had no gold.
+
+Because if I did not remember him,
+My little child--Ah! What should we have,
+He and I? Not even a grave
+With a name of his own by the river's brim.
+Because if among the poppies gay,
+On the hill-side, now my eyes are dim,
+I could not fancy a child at play,
+And if I should pass by the pool in the quarry
+And never see him, a darling ghost,
+Sailing a boat there, I should be sorry--
+If in the firelit, lone December
+I never heard him come scampering post
+Haste down the stair--if the soul that is lost
+Came back, and I did not remember.
+
+
+
+
+THE POETRY SOCIETY
+
+
+The objects of the Society, as stated in the Constitution, are to
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+
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+
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+
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+
+To form sub-societies for the reading and study of the works of
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+
+
+The ordinary Membership subscription is 7s. 6d., with an entrance fee
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+
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+
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+
+Centres or individual members not formed into groups maintain regular
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+Centre meetings, propaganda work, etc., and each Centre is expected to
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+
+The Society deals practically with the art of speaking verse and holds
+periodical examinations and "auditions" of readers and teachers with a
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+
+
+ALL COMMUNICATIONS & INQUIRIES SHOULD BE ADDRESSED TO THE SECRETARY,
+THE POETRY SOCIETY, 16 FEATHERSTONE BUILDINGS, HOLBORN, LONDON, W.C.
+
+
+
+
+Sixth Year of Publication: first issued as _The Poetical Gazette_,
+May, 1909.
+
+THE POETRY REVIEW
+
+Edited by STEPHEN PHILLIPS
+
+
+Published monthly, 6d. net; annual postal subscription to any part of
+the world, 6s. 6d. (free to members of the Poetry Society).
+
+The leading journal devoted to Poetry and Poets (old and new), and the
+cultivation of the Imagination.
+
+Notable monthly features are the leading articles by the Editor;
+brilliant new poetic drama by writers of distinction, and authoritative
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+
+The exceptional contents of the _Poetry Review_ give it the value of a
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+
+THE POETRY REVIEW
+16 FEATHERSTONE BUILDINGS
+HOLBORN, LONDON, W.C.
+
+Specimen Copy Two Penny Stamps.
+
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+
+
+From Mr ERSKINE MACDONALD'S latest list of
+_POETRY & DRAMA_
+
+Malory House, Featherstone Bldgs, Holborn, London, W.C.
+
+
+JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER
+A POETIC DRAMA.
+By ANNA BUNSTON
+Author of "Mingled Wine," "The Porch of Paradise," etc.
+Crown 8vo., 3s. 6d. net.
+
+MASQUES & POEMS
+By T. E. CASSON
+Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. net.
+
+A READING OF LIFE AND OTHER POEMS
+By M. REVELL
+Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. net.
+
+DREAMS & REALITIES
+By W. K. FLEMING
+Crown 8vo., 3s. 6d. net.
+
+_IMMORTAL COMMONPLACES_
+By MARGARET LAWRENCE
+Decorated Boards, 1s. net.
+
+
+"Grace and delicacy and charming simplicity."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"A gem-like preface.... All the poems are suffused by a fine spirit of
+tenderness and sympathy, and alike in this and in their grace and
+beauty they are uplifting and helpful."--_Aberdeen Free Press._
+
+
+
+
+A BOOK TO ENTHUSE OVER
+
+Cornish Catches and Other Verses
+
+By BERNARD MOORE
+
+Decorated Boards, 2s. 6d. net.
+
+
+_THE TIMES_ says: "There are 'other verses' of a pleasing quality in
+the latter half of the book; but it is the Cornish Catches occupying
+the first thirty pages which we linger over with delight; for Mr Moore
+in his well-chiselled little pieces brings out all the winning beauty
+of the Western speech. They are all happy...."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH_: "Here is a true poet and he should have a poet's
+welcome.... Mr Bernard Moore strikes the authentic note; he sets the
+heart beating and brings the tear to the eye. There is no forced
+sentimentality about his work, and no parade of preciosity. He sings a
+simple, natural ballad, impeccably sincere. Cornwall has had no such
+poet since Hawker of Morwenstow died."
+
+_THE MORNING POST_ in a column notice says: "Mr Moore's 'Cornish
+Catches' are just so good as Cornish cream to a Cornish cat, and even
+those who do not know the dialect, with its faint, far-away echoes of
+Celtic verse-forms, will delight in his simple 'vitty' songs of the
+Delectable Duchy. He is a patriotic Cornish-man sure enough ... as good
+as anything of the kind written by the dialect-poets of Lancashire or
+Dorset ... it is a thing to rejoice over, this little easy-going,
+unostentatious book."
+
+_T. P.'S WEEKLY_ in a column headed "A Cornish Poet" says: "A new sheaf
+of verse of quiet remarkable interest.... They all proclaim Mr Moore to
+be a real poet ... his true vocation is to interpret the souls of the
+people he obviously knows and loves so well. He knows their humour and
+their half articulate pathos so well--and apparently he shares the
+secret only with 'Q.'"
+
+_DAILY CITIZEN_ in half column review says: "The glamour of the land of
+fishermen ... runs through Mr Moore's homely verses. They have all the
+ruggedness and colour of Cornwall '... will all appeal to a larger
+public than Cornishmen alone.'"
+
+_THE SCOTSMAN_: "... The book will be read with a hearty interest by
+anyone who knows Cornwall."
+
+_MANCHESTER CITY NEWS_ in a column headed "A Cornish Singer" says: "He
+is not only a poet of words but ideas. The dialect poems are
+particularly characteristic with their alternate sturdiness and
+wistfulness. Mr Moore is particularly happy in suggesting either a
+story or character sketch."
+
+
+
+
+A FAMOUS NOVELIST AS POET
+
+Willow's Forge AND OTHER POEMS
+
+By SHEILA KAYE SMITH
+
+Crown 8vo. Cloth. 2s. 6d. net.
+
+
+"Written with the same inspiration and refinement as her previous book.
+'To my Body: A Thanksgiving,' is the purest and serenest strain of
+mysticism, and improves even upon the beautiful thought of St
+Francis."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+"... Her poetry is fully equal to her prose. _Willow's Forge_ is a
+slender book, but in interest it is large, so large indeed that a first
+reading only makes one aware of the presence of riches that require
+time to fully appreciate.... _Lovers of real, not to say remarkable,
+poetry must haste to secure this small but wonder-working book._ It
+contains not one but half a dozen things that have in them the germ of
+permanence. It is not too much to say that Mr Masefield (great as his
+achievement has been) has produced nothing finer or more
+edifying."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"Miss Kaye Smith is to be congratulated on her first essay into
+poetry."--_Yorkshire Observer._
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Fame Seeker AND OTHER POEMS
+
+By JANET JEFFREY
+
+Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
+
+
+"The author shows herself to be possessed of literary gifts and graces
+and some imaginative power.... The poems are from a cultured
+pen."--_The Scotsman._
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Various
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+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+<title>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Galloway Kyle
+</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Cluster of Grapes
+       A Book of Twentieth Century Poetry
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2007 [EBook #21649]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CLUSTER OF GRAPES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="Fancy wreath around title of book" width="265" height="302">
+</p>
+<h1>
+A CLUSTER OF GRAPES
+</h1>
+<h2>
+A BOOK OF TWENTIETH CENTURY POETRY
+</h2>
+<br>
+<h3>
+By
+</h3>
+<h2>
+GALLOWAY KYLE
+</h2>
+<p class="quote">
+<em>
+&#34;Hee doth not onely shew the way, as will entice anie man to enter into it: nay he doth as if your journey should lye through a faire vineyard, at the verie first, give you a cluster of grapes, that full of that taste, you may long to passe further.&#34;
+</em>
+</p>
+<br>
+<h4>
+LONDON: ERSKINE MACDONALD
+<br>
+1914
+</h4>
+<p class="quote">
+<em>
+The contents of this volume are copyright and may not be reproduced without the permission of the respective authors and publishers.
+</em>
+</p>
+<hr class="med">
+<p class="ctr">
+<em>
+PREFACE
+</em>
+</p>
+<p>
+<em>
+If the existence and contents of this book require any explanation, the compiler may adopt the words of a famous defender of poetry:
+</em>
+</p>
+<div class="blockquote">
+<p>
+<em>
+&#34;Hee doth not onely shew the way but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way as will entice anie man into it.
+</em>
+</p>
+<p>
+<em>
+&#34;Nay, hee doth as if your journey should lye through a faire Vineyard, at the verie first give you a cluster of Grapes that full of that taste you may long to passe further. He beginneth not with obscure definitions, which must blurre the margent with interpretations and loade the memorie with doubtfulnesse, but hee cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with or prepared for the well-enchanting skill of musicke, and with a tale forsoothe he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play and olde men from the chimney-corner, and pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the minde from wickedness to vertue.&#34;
+</em>
+</p>
+</div>
+<p>
+<em>
+These excellent words of Sir Philip Sidney give the reason and scope of this collection of examples of the poetry of the present century. No attempt at arbitrary classification or labelling has been made; it is not intended to show that any poet, deliberately or otherwise, is a Neo-Symbolist or Paroxyst or is afflicted with any other 'ist or 'ism; it is not compiled to assert that any one group of poets is superior to any other group of poets or to poets who had the misfortune to have their corporeal existence cut short before the dawn of the twentieth century; it is not even intended to prove that good poetry is written in our time. All such purposes and particularly the latter are superfluous and may be left to dogmatic disputants who have little care for the grace and harmony of poetry.
+</em>
+</p>
+<p>
+<em>
+The scheme of the Anthology is simple and without guile. It does not presuppose an abrupt period, but for the sake of convenience and in justification of its existence includes only the work of living writers produced during the present century and therefore most likely to be representative of the poetry of to-day. No editorial credit can be claimed for the selections; they are not the reflex of one individual's taste and preferences, but have been made by the writers themselves, to whom&#8212;and their respective publishers&#8212;for their cordial co-operation the collator of this distinctive volume is exceedingly grateful, not on his own account only but also on behalf of those readers to whom this volume will open out so fair a prospect that they will long to pass further, this &#34;cluster of grapes&#34; being one of the &#34;lures immortal&#34; for the rapidly increasing number of discriminating lovers of the high poetry that is the touchstone of beauty. The finest lyric work of our day needs no further introduction; the poet is his own best interpreter; but it may be added, in anticipation of adventitious criticism of the limitations of these examples, that the capacity of the present volume and the absence abroad of some potential contributors account for the non-inclusion of certain writers who otherwise would have been represented here.
+</em>
+</p>
+<p class="sig">
+<em>
+GALLOWAY KYLE.
+</em>
+</p>
+<p class="noindent">
+<em>
+May</em>, 1914.
+</p>
+<hr class="med">
+<p class="ctr">
+BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CONTENTS
+</p>
+<p class="page">
+Page
+</p>
+<p>
+&nbsp;
+</p>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+A.E.:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Collected Poems (Macmillan), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Reconciliation<span class="right"><a href="#1">1</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Man to the Angel<span class="right"><a href="#2">2</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Babylon<span class="right"><a href="#3">3</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Le Cahier Jaune (privately printed), 1892. Poems, 1893; Lyrics, 1895; Lord Vyet, and other Poems, 1897; The Professor and other Poems, 1900; Peace and other Poems, 1905; Collected Poems (John Lane, The Bodley Head), 1909.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Making Haste<span class="right"><a href="#5">5</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+At Eventide<span class="right"><a href="#6">6</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+In a College Garden<span class="right"><a href="#7">7</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+ANNA BUNSTON (Mrs de Bary):
+<ul>
+<li>
+Leaves from a Woman's Manuscript, 1904 (out of print); Mingled Wine (Longmans), 1909; The Porch of Paradise (Herbert &#38; Daniel), 1911; Songs of God and Man (Herbert &#38; Daniel), 1912; Letters of a Schoolma'am (Dent), 1913; Jephthah's Daughter (Erskine MacDonald), 1914; Mingled Wine (Cheaper re-issue, Erskine MacDonald), 1914.
+<ul>
+<li>
+A Mortgaged Inheritance<span class="right"><a href="#8">8</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Wilderness<span class="right"><a href="#9">9</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Under a Wiltshire Apple Tree<span class="right"><a href="#11">11</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+G. K. CHESTERTON:
+<ul>
+<li>
+(b. 1873). Poems in Novels and the
+<em>
+Commonwealth</em>, the
+<em>
+New Witness</em>, etc.; The Wild Knight and other Poems (Richards), 1900; Browning, in &#34;English Men of Letters&#34; (Macmillan), 1903; Ballad of the White Horse (Methuen), 1911.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Sonnet with the Compliments of the Season<span class="right"><a href="#13">13</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+When I came back to Fleet Street<span class="right"><a href="#14">14</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Truce of Christmas<span class="right"><a href="#17">17</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+FRANCES CORNFORD:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Poems (Bowes &#38; Bowes, Cambridge), 1910. Death and the Princess, a Morality (Bowes &#38; Bowes), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+The Princess and the Gypsies<span class="right"><a href="#19">19</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Dandelion<span class="right"><a href="#22">22</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Social Intercourse<span class="right"><a href="#23">23</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+WALTER DE LA MARE:
+<ul>
+<li>
+(b. 1873). Songs of Childhood (Longmans), 1902; Henry Brocken (Murray), 1904; Poems, 1906: The Three Mulla Malgars (Duckworth); The Return (Arnold), 1910; The Listeners and other Poems (Constable), 1911; Peacock Pie (Constable), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+An Epitaph<span class="right"><a href="#24">24</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Arabia<span class="right"><a href="#25">25</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Nod<span class="right"><a href="#26">26</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+JOHN GALSWORTHY:
+<ul>
+<li>
+(b. 1867). Novels, Studies, and Verse; Villa Rubein, 1901; The Island Pharisees, 1904; The Man of Property, 1906; The Country House, 1907; A Commentary, 1908; Fraternity, 1909; A Motley, 1910; The Patrician, 1911; The Inn of Tranquillity; and Moods, Songs and Doggerels, 1913; The Dark Flower (Heinemann), 1913; Plays: Vol. I, The Silver Box; Joy; Strife, 1909. Vol. II, Justice; The Little Dream; The Eldest Son, 1912. Vol. III, The Fugitive; The Pigeon; The Mob, 1914.
+<ul>
+<li>
+The Downs<span class="right"><a href="#27">27</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Prayer<span class="right"><a href="#27_2">27</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Devon to Me<span class="right"><a href="#28">28</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+EVA GORE-BOOTH:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Poems (Longmans, Green &#38; Co.), 1898; Unseen Kings (Longmans), 1904; The One and the Many (Longmans), 1904; The Three Resurrections and the Triumph of Maeve (Longmans), 1905; The Sorrowful Princess (Longmans), 1907; The Egyptian Pillar (Maunsel &#38; Co., Dublin), 1907; The Agate Lamp (Longmans), 1912.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Maeve of the Battles<span class="right"><a href="#29">29</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Re-Incarnation<span class="right"><a href="#31">31</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Leonardo Da Vinci<span class="right"><a href="#34">34</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+JOHN GURDON:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Erinna, a Tragedy (Edward Arnold), 1913; Dramatic Lyrics (Elkin Matthews), 1906; Enchantments (Erskine Macdonald), 1912.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Surrender<span class="right"><a href="#36">36</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Before the Fates<span class="right"><a href="#38">38</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+THOMAS HARDY:
+<ul>
+<li>
+(b. 1840). Wessex Poems, 1898; Poems of the Past and Present, 1901; The Dynasts; An Epic Drama, Part I, 1903-4; Part II, 1906; Part III, 1908; Time's Laughing Stocks and other Verses (Macmillan), 1910.
+<ul>
+<li>
+A Trampwoman's Tragedy<span class="right"><a href="#42">42</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Chorus from &#34;The Dynasts&#34; (Part III)<span class="right"><a href="#47">47</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Ballad Singer<span class="right"><a href="#49">49</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+RALPH HODGSON:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Contributions to the
+<em>
+Saturday Review</em>; Flying Fame Chap Books.
+<ul>
+<li>
+The Moor<span class="right"><a href="#50">50</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Time, You Old Gipsy Man<span class="right"><a href="#51">51</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Ghoul Care<span class="right"><a href="#53">53</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+W. G. HOLE:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Procris and other Poems (Paul); Amoris Imago (Paul); Poems, Lyrical and Dramatic (Matthews), 1902; Queen Elizabeth, An Historical Drama (Geo. Bell &#38; Sons), 1904; New Poems (Geo. Bell &#38; Sons), 1907; The Chained Titan (Geo. Bell &#38; Sons,) 1910; The Master: A Poetical Play in Two Acts (Erskine Macdonald), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Roosevelt-Village Street<span class="right"><a href="#54">54</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Haunted Fields<span class="right"><a href="#58">58</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Captive in London Town<span class="right"><a href="#60">60</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+LAURENCE HOUSMAN:
+<ul>
+<li>
+(b. 1867). Mendicant Rimes; Selected Poems (Sidgwick &#38; Jackson).
+<ul>
+<li>
+The Fellow-Travellers<span class="right"><a href="#61">61</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Settlers<span class="right"><a href="#62">62</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Song<span class="right"><a href="#63">63</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+EMILIA S. LORIMER:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Songs of Alban (Constable), 1912.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Love Songs<span class="right"><a href="#64">64</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Storm<span class="right"><a href="#65">65</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+JAMES A. MACKERETH:
+<ul>
+<li>
+In Grasmere Vale and other Poems, 1907; The Cry on the Mountain, 1908; When We Dreamers Wake, a Drama for To-day (Nutt), 1909; A Son of Cain and other Poems (Longmans), 1910; In the Wake of the Ph&#339;nix (Longmans), 1911; On the Face of a Star (Longmans), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+To a Blackbird on New Year's Day<span class="right"><a href="#66">66</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+La Danseuse<span class="right"><a href="#68">68</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+God Returns<span class="right"><a href="#70">70</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+ALICE MEYNELL:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Poems (Collected Edition), 1913. Essays (selected from The Rhythm of Life, etc.) (Burns &#38; Oates), 1914.
+<ul>
+<li>
+To the Body<span class="right"><a href="#72">72</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Christ in the Universe<span class="right"><a href="#73">73</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Maternity<span class="right"><a href="#74">74</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+WILL H. OGILVIE:
+<ul>
+<li>
+The Overlander; The Land we Love; Whaup o' the Rede (Thomas Fraser, Dalbeattie); Rainbows and Witches (Elkin Matthews); Fair Girls and Grey Horses; Hearts of Gold (Angus &#38; Robertson, Australia).
+<ul>
+<li>
+There's a Clean Wind Blowing<span class="right"><a href="#75">75</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Garden of the Night<span class="right"><a href="#76">76</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Crossing Swords<span class="right"><a href="#79">79</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+STEPHEN PHILLIPS:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Eremus (Paul), 1894; Christ in Hades (Matthews), 1896; Poems, 1897; Paolo and Francesca, 1899; Marpessa, 1900; Herod, 1900; Ulysses, 1902; Nero, 1906; The New Inferno, 1910; New Poems, Lyrics and Dramas (John Lane), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Lures Immortal<span class="right"><a href="#80">80</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Beautiful lie the Dead<span class="right"><a href="#82">82</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Lyric from &#34;The Sin of David&#34;<span class="right"><a href="#83">83</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+EDEN PHILLPOTTS:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Many novels: Dance of the Months; Sketches of Dartmoor and Poems (Gowans &#38; Gray), 1911; The Iscariot, a Poem (Murray), 1912; Up-Along and Down-Along (Methuen), 1905; Wild Fruit (John Lane), 1911.
+<ul>
+<li>
+A Devon Courting<span class="right"><a href="#84">84</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+A Litany to Pan<span class="right"><a href="#85">85</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Swinburne<span class="right"><a href="#87">87</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+DORA SIGERSON SHORTER:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Verses, 1894; The Fairy Changeling, and other Poems, 1897; My Lady's Slipper and other Poems, 1898; Ballads and Poems, 1899; The Father Confessor, 1900; The Woman who went to Hell, 1902; As the Sparks fly Upward, 1904; The Story and Song of Earl Roderick, 1906; Collected Poems, 1909; The Troubadour, 1910; New Poems, 1912; Madge Linsey and other Poems (Maunsel, Dublin), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+The Watcher in the Wood<span class="right"><a href="#88">88</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Nameless One<span class="right"><a href="#89">89</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+When I shall Rise<span class="right"><a href="#91">91</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+ARTHUR SYMONS:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Images of Good and Evil, 1900; Poems, 1901; The Fool of the World and other Poems, 1906; The Knave of Hearts (Heinemann), 1913; Cities of Italy, 1908; The Romantic Movement in English Poetry, 1909.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Tanagra<span class="right"><a href="#92">92</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Giovanni Malatesta at Rimini<span class="right"><a href="#93">93</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+La Melinite: Moulin Rouge<span class="right"><a href="#95">95</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+EVELYN UNDERHILL:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Immanence, A Book of Verses (J. M. Dent &#38; Sons), 1912; Mysticism; The Mystic Way.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Immanence<span class="right"><a href="#97">97</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Introversion<span class="right"><a href="#99">99</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+Ichthus<span class="right"><a href="#100">100</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<ul class="toc">
+<li>
+MARGARET L. WOODS:
+<ul>
+<li>
+Poems, Collected Edition (John Lane), 1913.
+<ul>
+<li>
+Songs<span class="right"><a href="#102">102</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+<li>
+The Changeling<span class="right"><a href="#103">103</a>
+</span>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+<hr class="long">
+<p class="ctr">
+&#198;
+</p>
+<a name="1">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+RECONCILIATION
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the earth, of the mother, my heart with her heart in accord,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+As I lie mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast
+</p>
+<p>
+I begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the King
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far,
+</p>
+<p>
+And His infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bring
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Me in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="2">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE MAN TO THE ANGEL
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I have wept a million tears:
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Pure and proud one, where are thine,
+</p>
+<p>
+What the gain though all thy years
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In unbroken beauty shine?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+All your beauty cannot win
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Truth we learn in pain and sighs:
+</p>
+<p>
+You can never enter in
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To the circle of the wise.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+They are but the slaves of light
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Who have never known the gloom,
+</p>
+<p>
+And between the dark and bright
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Willed in freedom their own doom.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Think not in your pureness there,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That our pain but follows sin:
+</p>
+<p>
+There are fires for those who dare
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Seek the throne of might to win.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Pure one, from your pride refrain:
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Dark and lost amid the strife
+</p>
+<p>
+I am myriad years of pain
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Nearer to the fount of life.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When defiance fierce is thrown
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+At the god to whom you bow,
+</p>
+<p>
+Rest the lips of the Unknown
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Tenderest upon my brow.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="3">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+BABYLON
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within my mind,
+</p>
+<p>
+It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind.
+</p>
+<p>
+To-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run
+</p>
+<p>
+Through thrice a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient Babylon.
+</p>
+<p>
+On temple top and palace roof the burnished gold flung back the rays
+</p>
+<p>
+Of a red sunset that was dead and lost beyond a million days.
+</p>
+<p>
+The tower of heaven turns darker blue, a starry sparkle now begins;
+</p>
+<p>
+The mystery and magnificence, the myriad beauty and the sins
+</p>
+<p>
+Come back to me. I walk beneath the shadowy multitude of towers;
+</p>
+<p>
+Within the gloom the fountain jets its pallid mist in lily flowers.
+</p>
+<p>
+The waters lull me and the scent of many gardens, and I hear
+</p>
+<p>
+Familiar voices, and the voice I love is whispering in my ear.
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh real as in dream all this; and then a hand on mine is laid:
+</p>
+<p>
+The wave of phantom time withdraws; and that young Babylonian maid,
+</p>
+<p>
+One drop of beauty left behind from all the flowing of that tide,
+</p>
+<p>
+Is looking with the self-same eyes, and here in Ireland by my side.
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh light our life in Babylon, but Babylon has taken wings,
+</p>
+<p>
+While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
+</p>
+<a name="5">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+MAKING HASTE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;Soon!&#34; says the Snowdrop, and smiles at the motherly earth,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+&#34;Soon!&#8212;for the Spring with her languors comes stealthily on
+</p>
+<p>
+Snow was my cradle, and chill winds sang at my birth;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Winter is over&#8212;and I must make haste to be gone!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;Soon,&#34; says the Swallow, and dips to the wind-ruffled stream,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+&#34;Grain is all garnered&#8212;the Summer is over and done;
+</p>
+<p>
+Bleak to the eastward the icy battalions gleam,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Summer is over&#8212;and I must make haste to be gone!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;Soon&#8212;ah, too soon!&#34; says the Soul, with a pitiful gaze,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+&#34;Soon!&#8212;for I rose like a star, and for aye would have shone!
+</p>
+<p>
+See the pale shuddering dawn, that must wither my rays,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Leaps from the mountains&#8212;and I must make haste to be gone!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="6">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+AT EVENTIDE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+At morn I saw the level plain
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+So rich and small beneath my feet,
+</p>
+<p>
+A sapphire sea without a stain,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And fields of golden-waving wheat;
+</p>
+<p>
+Lingering I said, &#34;At noon I'll be
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+At peace by that sweet-scented tide.
+</p>
+<p>
+How far, how fair my course shall be,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Before I come to the Eventide!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where is it fled, that radiant plain?
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I stumble now in miry ways;
+</p>
+<p>
+Dark clouds drift landward, big with rain,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And lonely moors their summits raise.
+</p>
+<p>
+On, on with hurrying feet I range,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And left and right in the dumb hillside
+</p>
+<p>
+Grey gorges open, drear and strange,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And so I come to the Eventide!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="7">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+IN A COLLEGE GARDEN
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Birds, that cry so loud in the old, green bowery garden,
+</p>
+<p>
+Your song is of
+<em>
+Love! Love! Love!
+</em>
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Will ye weary not nor cease?
+</p>
+<p>
+For the loveless soul grows sick, the heart that the grey days harden;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I know too well that ye love! I would ye should hold your peace.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I too have seen Love rise, like a star; I have marked his setting;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I dreamed in my folly and pride that Life without Love were peace.
+</p>
+<p>
+But if Love should await me yet, in the land of sleep and forgetting&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Ah, bird, could you sing me this, I would not your song should cease!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+ANNA BUNSTON (Mrs de BARY)
+</p>
+<a name="8">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+A MORTGAGED INHERITANCE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I knew a land whose streams did wind
+</p>
+<p>
+More winningly than these,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where finer shadows played behind
+</p>
+<p>
+The clean-stemmed beechen trees.
+</p>
+<p>
+The maidens there were deeper eyed,
+</p>
+<p>
+The lads more swift and fair,
+</p>
+<p>
+And angels walked at each one's side&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Would God that I were there!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Here daffodils are dressed in gold,
+</p>
+<p>
+But there they wore the sun,
+</p>
+<p>
+And here the blooms are bought and sold,
+</p>
+<p>
+But there God gave each one.
+</p>
+<p>
+There all roads led to fairyland
+</p>
+<p>
+That here do lead to care,
+</p>
+<p>
+And stars were lamps on Heaven's strand&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Would God, that I were there!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Here worship crawls upon her course
+</p>
+<p>
+That there with larks would cope,
+</p>
+<p>
+And here her voice with doubt is hoarse
+</p>
+<p>
+That there was sweet with hope.
+</p>
+<p>
+O land of Peace! my spirit dies
+</p>
+<p>
+For thy once tasted air,
+</p>
+<p>
+O earliest loss! O latest prize!
+</p>
+<p>
+Would God that I were there!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="9">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE WILDERNESS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+From Life's enchantments,
+</p>
+<p>
+Desire of place,
+</p>
+<p>
+From lust of getting
+</p>
+<p>
+Turn thou away, and set thy face
+</p>
+<p>
+Toward the wilderness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The tents of Jacob
+</p>
+<p>
+As valleys spread,
+</p>
+<p>
+As goodly cedars,
+</p>
+<p>
+Or fair lign aloes, white and red,
+</p>
+<p>
+Shall share thy wilderness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+With awful judgments,
+</p>
+<p>
+The law, the rod,
+</p>
+<p>
+With soft allurements
+</p>
+<p>
+And comfortable words, will God
+</p>
+<p>
+Pass o'er the wilderness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The bitter waters
+</p>
+<p>
+Are healed and sweet,
+</p>
+<p>
+The ample heavens
+</p>
+<p>
+Pour angel's bread about thy feet
+</p>
+<p>
+Throughout the wilderness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And Carmel's glory
+</p>
+<p>
+Thou thoughtest gone,
+</p>
+<p>
+And Sharon's roses,
+</p>
+<p>
+The excellency of Lebanon
+</p>
+<p>
+Delight thy wilderness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Who passeth Jordan
+</p>
+<p>
+Perfumed with myrrh,
+</p>
+<p>
+With myrrh and incense?
+</p>
+<p>
+Lo! on his arm Love leadeth her
+</p>
+<p>
+Who trod the wilderness.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="11">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+UNDER A WILTSHIRE APPLE TREE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Some folks as can afford,
+</p>
+<p>
+So I've heard say,
+</p>
+<p>
+Sets up a sort of cross
+</p>
+<p>
+Right in the garden way
+</p>
+<p>
+To mind 'em of the Lord.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But I, when I do see
+</p>
+<p>
+Thic apple tree
+</p>
+<p>
+An' stoopin' limb
+</p>
+<p>
+All spread wi' moss,
+</p>
+<p>
+I think of Him
+</p>
+<p>
+And how he talks wi' me.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I think of God
+</p>
+<p>
+And how he trod
+</p>
+<p>
+That garden long ago:
+</p>
+<p>
+He walked, I reckon, to and fro
+</p>
+<p>
+And then sat down
+</p>
+<p>
+Upon the groun'
+</p>
+<p>
+Or some low limb
+</p>
+<p>
+What suited Him
+</p>
+<p>
+Same as you see
+</p>
+<p>
+On many a tree,
+</p>
+<p>
+And on this very one
+</p>
+<p>
+Where I at set o' sun
+</p>
+<p>
+Do sit and talk wi' He.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+An' mornings, too, I rise an' come
+</p>
+<p>
+An' sit down where the branch be low;
+</p>
+<p>
+A bird do sing, a bee do hum,
+</p>
+<p>
+The flowers in the border blow,
+</p>
+<p>
+An' all my heart's so glad an' clear
+</p>
+<p>
+As pools be when the sun do peer:
+</p>
+<p>
+As pools a laughin' in the light
+</p>
+<p>
+When mornin' air is swep' an' bright,
+</p>
+<p>
+As pools what got all Heaven in sight
+</p>
+<p>
+So's my heart's cheer
+</p>
+<p>
+When He be near.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+He never pushed the garden door,
+</p>
+<p>
+He left no footmark on the floor;
+</p>
+<p>
+I never heard 'Un stir nor tread
+</p>
+<p>
+An' yet His Hand do bless my head,
+</p>
+<p>
+And when 'tis time for work to start
+</p>
+<p>
+I takes Him with me in my heart.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And when I die, pray God I see
+</p>
+<p>
+At very last thic apple tree
+</p>
+<p>
+An' stoopin' limb,
+</p>
+<p>
+An' think o' Him
+</p>
+<p>
+And all He been to me.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+G. K. CHESTERTON
+</p>
+<a name="13">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+SONNET WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON
+<br>
+<small>
+(To a popular leader, to be congratulated on the avoidance of a strike at Christmas.)
+</small>
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I know you. You will hail the huge release,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Saying the sheathing of a thousand swords,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In silence and injustice, well accords
+</p>
+<p>
+With Christmas bells. And you will gild with grease
+</p>
+<p>
+The papers, the employers, the police,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And vomit up the void your windy words
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To your new Christ; who bears no whip of cords
+</p>
+<p>
+For them that traffic in the doves of peace.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The feast of friends, the candle-fruited tree,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I have not failed to honour. And I say
+</p>
+<p>
+It would be better for such men as we
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And we be nearer Bethlehem, if we lay
+</p>
+<p>
+Shot dead on snows scarlet for Liberty,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Dead in the daylight; upon Christmas Day.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="14">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+WHEN I CAME BACK TO FLEET STREET
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When I came back to Fleet Street,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Through a sunset-nook at night,
+</p>
+<p>
+And saw the old Green Dragon
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With the windows all alight,
+</p>
+<p>
+And hailed the old Green Dragon
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the Cock I used to know,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where all the good fellows were my friends
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A little while ago.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I had been long in meadows,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the trees took hold of me,
+</p>
+<p>
+And the still towns in the beech-woods,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Where men were meant to be;
+</p>
+<p>
+But old things held; the laughter,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The long unnatural night,
+</p>
+<p>
+And all the truth the talk in hell,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And all the lies they write.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+For I came back to Fleet Street,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And not in peace I came;
+</p>
+<p>
+A cloven pride was in my heart,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And half my love was shame.
+</p>
+<p>
+I came to fight in fairy tale,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Whose end shall no man know&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+To fight the old Green Dragon
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Until the Cock shall crow!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Under the broad bright windows
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of men I serve no more,
+</p>
+<p>
+The groaning of the old great wheels
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Thickened to a throttled roar;
+</p>
+<p>
+All buried things broke upwards;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And peered from its retreat,
+</p>
+<p>
+Ugly and silent, like an elf,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The secret of the street.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+They did not break the padlocks,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Or clear the wall away.
+</p>
+<p>
+The men in debt that drank of old
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Still drink in debt to-day;
+</p>
+<p>
+Chained to the rich by ruin,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Cheerful in chains, as then
+</p>
+<p>
+When old unbroken Pickwick walked
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Among the broken men.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Still he that dreams and rambles
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Through his own elfin air,
+</p>
+<p>
+Knows that the street's a prison,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Knows that the gates are there:
+</p>
+<p>
+Still he that scorns or struggles,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Sees frightful and afar
+</p>
+<p>
+All that they leave of rebels
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Rot high on Temple Bar.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+All that I loved and hated,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+All that I shunned and knew,
+</p>
+<p>
+Clears in broad battle lightening;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Where they, and I, and you,
+</p>
+<p>
+Run high the barricade that breaks
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The barriers of the Street,
+</p>
+<p>
+And shout to them that shrink within,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The Prisoners of the Fleet!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="17">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE TRUCE OF CHRISTMAS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Passionate peace is in the sky
+</p>
+<p>
+And on the snow in silver sealed
+</p>
+<p>
+The beasts are perfect in the field
+</p>
+<p>
+And men seem men so suddenly
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But take ten swords, and ten times ten,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And blow the bugle in praising men
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For we are for all men under the sun
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And they are against us every one
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And misers haggle, and mad men clutch
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And there is peril in praising much
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And we have the terrible tongues un-curled
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That praise the world to the sons of the world.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The idle humble hill and wood
+</p>
+<p>
+Are bowed about the sacred Birth
+</p>
+<p>
+And for one little while the earth
+</p>
+<p>
+Is lazy with the love of good
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But ready are you and ready am I
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+If the battle blow and the guns go by
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For we are for all men under the sun
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And they are against us every one
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For the men that hate herd altogether
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To pride and gold and the great white feather
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the thing is graven in star and stone
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+That the men that love are all alone.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Hunger is hard and time is tough
+</p>
+<p>
+But bless the beggars and kiss the kings
+</p>
+<p>
+For hope has broken the heart of things
+</p>
+<p>
+And nothing was ever praised enough
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But hold the shield for a sudden swing
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And point the sword in praising a thing
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For we are for all men under the sun
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And they are against us every one
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And mime and merchant, thane and thrall,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Hate us because we love them all
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Only till Christmas time goes by
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Passionate peace is in the sky.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+FRANCES CORNFORD
+</p>
+<a name="19">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE PRINCESS AND THE GIPSIES
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+As I looked out one May morning,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I saw the tree-tops green;
+</p>
+<p>
+I said: &#34;My crown I will lay down
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And live no more a queen.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then I tripped down my golden steps
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+All in my silken gown,
+</p>
+<p>
+And when I stood in the open wood,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I met some gipsies brown.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;O gentle, gentle gipsies,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That roam the wide world through,
+</p>
+<p>
+Because I hate my crown and state
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+O let me come with you.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;My councillors are old and grey,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And sit in narrow chairs;
+</p>
+<p>
+But you can hear the birds sing clear,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And your hearts are as light as theirs.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;If you would come along with us,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Then you must count the cost;
+</p>
+<p>
+For though in Spring the sweet birds sing,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In Winter comes the frost.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;Your ladies serve you all the day
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With courtesy and care;
+</p>
+<p>
+Your fine-shod feet they tread so neat,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But a gipsy's feet go bare.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;You wash in water running warm
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Through basins all of gold;
+</p>
+<p>
+The streams where we roam have silvery foam,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But the streams, the streams are cold.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;And barley-bread is bitter to taste,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+While sugary cakes they please&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Which will you choose, O which will you choose,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Which will you choose of these?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;For if you choose the mountain streams
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And barley-bread to eat,
+</p>
+<p>
+Your heart will be free as the birds in the tree,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But the stones will cut your feet.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;The mud will spoil your silken gown,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And stain your insteps high;
+</p>
+<p>
+The dogs in the farm will wish you harm
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And bark as you go by.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;And though your heart grow deep and gay,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And your heart grow wise and rich,
+</p>
+<p>
+The cold will make your bones to ache
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And you will die in a ditch.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;O gentle, gentle gipsies,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That roam the wide world through,
+</p>
+<p>
+Although I praise your wandering ways,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I dare not come with you.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I hung about their fingers brown
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My ruby rings and chain,
+</p>
+<p>
+And with my head as heavy as lead,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I turned me back again.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+As I went up the palace steps,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I heard the gipsies laugh;
+</p>
+<p>
+The birds of Spring so sweet did sing;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My heart it broke in half.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="22">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE DANDELION
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The dandelion is brave and gay,
+</p>
+<p>
+And loves to grow beside the way;
+</p>
+<p>
+A braver thing was never seen
+</p>
+<p>
+To praise the grass for growing green;
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+You never saw a gayer thing,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To sit and smile and praise the Spring.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The children with their simple hearts,
+</p>
+<p>
+The lazy men that come in carts,
+</p>
+<p>
+The little dogs that lollop by,
+</p>
+<p>
+They all have seen its shining eye:
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And every one of them would say,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+They never saw a thing so gay.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="23">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+SOCIAL INTERCOURSE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Like to islands in the seas,
+</p>
+<p>
+Stand our personalities&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Islands where we always face
+</p>
+<p>
+One another's watering-place.
+</p>
+<p>
+When we promenade our sands
+</p>
+<p>
+We can hear each other's bands,
+</p>
+<p>
+We can see on festal nights
+</p>
+<p>
+Red and green and purple lights,
+</p>
+<p>
+Gilt pavilions in a row,
+</p>
+<p>
+Stucco houses built for show.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But our eyes can never reach
+</p>
+<p>
+Further than the tawdry beach,
+</p>
+<p>
+Never can they hope to win
+</p>
+<p>
+To the wonders far within:
+</p>
+<p>
+Jagged rocks against the sky
+</p>
+<p>
+Where the eagles haunt and cry,
+</p>
+<p>
+Forests full of running rills,
+</p>
+<p>
+Darkest forests, sunny hills,
+</p>
+<p>
+Hollows where a dragon lowers,
+</p>
+<p>
+Sweet and unimagined flowers.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+WALTER DE LA MARE
+</p>
+<a name="24">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+AN EPITAPH
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Here lies a most beautiful lady,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Light of step and heart was she:
+</p>
+<p>
+I think she was the most beautiful lady
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That ever was in the West Country.
+</p>
+<p>
+But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+However rare&#8212;rare it be;
+</p>
+<p>
+And when I crumble who will remember
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+This lady of the West Country?
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="25">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+ARABIA
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Far are the shades of Arabia,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where the princes ride at noon,
+</p>
+<p>
+'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets
+</p>
+<p>
+Under the ghost of the moon;
+</p>
+<p>
+And so dark is that vaulted purple,
+</p>
+<p>
+Flowers in the forest rise
+</p>
+<p>
+And toss into blossom 'gainst the phantom stars,
+</p>
+<p>
+Pale in the noonday skies.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sweet is the music of Arabia
+</p>
+<p>
+In my heart, when out of dreams
+</p>
+<p>
+I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn
+</p>
+<p>
+Descry her gliding streams;
+</p>
+<p>
+Hear her strange lutes on the green banks
+</p>
+<p>
+Ring loud with the grief and delight
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the dim-silked, dark-haired musicians,
+</p>
+<p>
+In the brooding silence of night.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+They haunt me&#8212;her lutes and her forests;
+</p>
+<p>
+No beauty on earth I see
+</p>
+<p>
+But shadowed with that dream recalls
+</p>
+<p>
+Her loveliness to me:
+</p>
+<p>
+Still eyes look coldly upon me,
+</p>
+<p>
+Cold voices whisper and say&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia,
+</p>
+<p>
+They have stolen his wits away.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="26">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+NOD
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Softly along the road of evening,
+</p>
+<p>
+In a twilight dim with rose,
+</p>
+<p>
+Wrinkled with age and drenched with dew,
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+His drowsy flock streams on before him,
+</p>
+<p>
+Their fleeces charged with gold,
+</p>
+<p>
+To where the sun's last beam leans low
+</p>
+<p>
+On Nod the shepherd's fold.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The hedge is quick and green with briar,
+</p>
+<p>
+From their sand the conies creep;
+</p>
+<p>
+And all the birds that fly in heaven
+</p>
+<p>
+Flock singing home to sleep.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+His lambs outnumber a noon's roses
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet, when night's shadows fall,
+</p>
+<p>
+His blind old sheep dog, Slumber-soon,
+</p>
+<p>
+Misses not one of all.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+His are the quiet steeps of dreamland,
+</p>
+<p>
+The waters of no more pain,
+</p>
+<p>
+His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars,
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;Rest, rest, and rest again.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+JOHN GALSWORTHY
+</p>
+<a name="27">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE DOWNS.
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Oh! the downs high to the cool sky;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the feel of the sun-warmed moss;
+</p>
+<p>
+And each cardoon, like a full moon,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Fairy-spun of the thistle floss;
+</p>
+<p>
+And the beech grove, and a wood dove,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the trail where the shepherds pass;
+</p>
+<p>
+And the lark's song, and the wind-song,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the scent of the parching grass!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="27_2">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE PRAYER.
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+If on a Spring night I went by
+</p>
+<p>
+And God were standing there,
+</p>
+<p>
+What is the prayer that I would cry
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To Him? This is the prayer:
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+O Lord of Courage grave,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+O Master of this night of Spring!
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Make firm in me a heart too brave
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To ask Thee anything!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="28">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+DEVON TO ME.
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where my fathers stood, watching the sea,
+</p>
+<p>
+Gale-spent herring boats hugging the lea;
+</p>
+<p>
+There my Mother lives, moorland and tree.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sight o' the blossoms! Devon to me!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where my fathers walked, driving the plough;
+</p>
+<p>
+Whistled their hearts out&#8212;who whistles now?&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+There my Mother burns fire faggots free.
+</p>
+<p>
+Scent o' the wood-smoke! Devon to me!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where my fathers sat, passing their bowls;
+</p>
+<p>
+&#8212;They've no cider now, God rest their souls!
+</p>
+<p>
+There my Mother feeds red cattle three.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sup o' the cream-pan! Devon to me!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where my fathers sleep, turning to dust,
+</p>
+<p>
+This old body throw when die I must!
+</p>
+<p>
+There my Mother calls, wakeful is she!
+</p>
+<p>
+Sound o' the West-wind! Devon to me!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where my fathers lie, when I am gone,
+</p>
+<p>
+Who need pity me, dead? Never one!
+</p>
+<p>
+There my Mother clasps me. Let me be!
+</p>
+<p>
+Feel o' the red earth! Devon to me!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+EVA GORE-BOOTH
+</p>
+<a name="29">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+MAEVE OF THE BATTLES
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed,
+</p>
+<p>
+And my soul is blown about by the wild wind of her will,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A dream of light on the mountains, and calm on the restless sea;
+</p>
+<p>
+A dream of the gentle days of the world when battle shall cease
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the things that are in hatred and wrath no longer shall be.
+</p>
+<p>
+I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The foamless waves are falling soft on the sands of Lissadil
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the world is wrapped in quiet and a floating dream of grey;
+</p>
+<p>
+But the wild winds of the twilight blow straight from the haunted hill
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the stars come out of the darkness and shine over Knocknarea&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+No rest for the heart once caught in the net of her yellow hair&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+No quiet for the fallen wind, no peace for the broken wave;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Rising and falling, falling and rising with soft sounds everywhere,
+</p>
+<p>
+There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed;
+</p>
+<p>
+And my soul is blown about by the wild winds of her will,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="31">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+RE-INCARNATION
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The darkness draws me, kindly angels weep
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Forlorn beyond receding rings of light,
+</p>
+<p>
+The torrents of the earth's desires sweep
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My soul through twilight downward into night.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Once more the light grows dim, the vision fades,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Myself seems to myself a distant goal,
+</p>
+<p>
+I grope among the bodies' drowsy shades,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Once more the Old Illusion rocks my soul.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Once more the Manifold in shadowy streams
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of falling waters murmurs in my ears,
+</p>
+<p>
+The One Voice drowns amid the roar of dreams
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That crowd the narrow pathway of the years.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I go to seek the starshine on the waves,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To count the dewdrops on the grassy hill,
+</p>
+<p>
+I go to gather flowers that grow on graves,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The worlds' wall closes round my prisoned will.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Yea, for the sake of the wild western wind
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The sphered spirit scorns her flame-built throne,
+</p>
+<p>
+Because of primroses, time out of mind,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The Lonely turns away from the Alone.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Who once has loved the cornfield's rustling sheaves,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Who once has heard the gentle Irish rain
+</p>
+<p>
+Murmur low music in the growing leaves,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Though he were god, comes back to earth again.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Oh Earth! green wind-swept Eirinn, I would break
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The tower of my soul's initiate pride
+</p>
+<p>
+For a grey field and a star-haunted lake,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And those wet winds that roam the country side.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I who have seen am glad to close my eyes,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I who have soared am weary of my wings,
+</p>
+<p>
+I seek no more the secret of the wise,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Safe among shadowy, unreal human things.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Blind to the gleam of those wild violet rays
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That burn beyond the rainbow's circle dim,
+</p>
+<p>
+Bound by dark nights and driven by pale days,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The sightless slave of Time's imperious whim;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Deaf to the flowing tide of dreams divine
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That surge outside the closed gates of birth,
+</p>
+<p>
+The rhythms of eternity, too fine
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To touch with music the dull ears of earth&#8212;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I go to seek with humble care and toil
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The dreams I left undreamed, the deeds undone,
+</p>
+<p>
+To sow the seed and break the stubborn soil,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Knowing no brightness whiter than the sun.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Content in winter if the fire burns clear
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And cottage walls keep out the creeping damp,
+</p>
+<p>
+Hugging the Old Illusion warm and dear,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The Silence and the Wise Book and the Lamp.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="34">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+LEONARDO DA VINCI
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+He in his deepest mind
+</p>
+<p>
+That inner harmony divined
+</p>
+<p>
+That lit the soul of John
+</p>
+<p>
+And in the glad eyes shone
+</p>
+<p>
+Of Dionysos, and dwelt
+</p>
+<p>
+Where Angel Gabriel knelt
+</p>
+<p>
+Under the dark cypress spires;
+</p>
+<p>
+And thrilled with flameless fires
+</p>
+<p>
+Of Secret Wisdom's rays
+</p>
+<p>
+The Giaconda's smiling gaze;
+</p>
+<p>
+Curving with delicate care
+</p>
+<p>
+The pearls in Beatrice d'Este's hair;
+</p>
+<p>
+Hiding behind the veil
+</p>
+<p>
+Of eyelids long and pale,
+</p>
+<p>
+In the strange gentle vision dim
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the unknown Christ who smiled on him.
+</p>
+<p>
+His was no vain dream
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the things that seem,
+</p>
+<p>
+Of date and name.
+</p>
+<p>
+He overcame
+</p>
+<p>
+The Outer False with the Inner True,
+</p>
+<p>
+And overthrew
+</p>
+<p>
+The empty show and thin deceits of sex,
+</p>
+<p>
+Pale nightmares of this barren world that vex
+</p>
+<p>
+The soul of man, shaken by every breeze
+</p>
+<p>
+Too faint to stir the silver olive trees
+</p>
+<p>
+Or lift the Dryad's smallest straying tress
+</p>
+<p>
+Frozen in her clear marble loveliness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+He, in curved lips and smiling eyes,
+</p>
+<p>
+Hid the last secret's faint surprise
+</p>
+<p>
+Of one who dies in fear and pain
+</p>
+<p>
+And lives and knows herself again.
+</p>
+<p>
+He, in his dreaming under the sun,
+</p>
+<p>
+Saw change and the unchanging One,
+</p>
+<p>
+And built in grottoes blue a shrine
+</p>
+<p>
+To hold Reality Divine.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+JOHN GURDON
+</p>
+<a name="36">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+SURRENDER
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Like the diamond spark of the morning star
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+When night grows pale
+</p>
+<p>
+Love gleams in the depths of thine eyes afar
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Through the rifted veil
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Of thy cloudy dreams.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I saw in the glint of thy wavy hair
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+His splendour shine
+</p>
+<p>
+A moment, and now thy cheeks declare
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The fire divine
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+In their rosy streams.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+It leaps from thy face to mine, and flushes
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+From brow to chin.
+</p>
+<p>
+The hot blood sings in my ears and gushes
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With surge and spin
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Through my tingling veins.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I lift up my heart for thy fervent lips
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+To kiss, my sweet.
+</p>
+<p>
+I would lift up my soul, but she swooning slips
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Down at thy feet,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And the rainbow stains.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Brighten and cloud on her wings that close
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And open slow,
+</p>
+<p>
+As a butterfly's move, on the breast of a rose
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Rocked to and fro
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+By a crooning wind.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+O star! O blossom! I faint for bliss.
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I faint for thee;
+</p>
+<p>
+For the kiss on my closed eyes, thy kiss
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In ecstasy
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+That leaves me blind.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Me has love molten for thee to mould.
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Ah, shape me fair
+</p>
+<p>
+As the crown of thy life, as a crown of gold
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In thy flame-like hair
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Worn for a sign!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Nay, rather my life be a wind-flower
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Slow kissed to death,
+</p>
+<p>
+Petal by petal, on lips that stir
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With love's own breath.
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Dear life, take mine!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="38">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+BEFORE THE FATES
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I cannot sing,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+So weary of life my heart is and so sore
+</p>
+<p>
+Afraid. What harp-playing
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Back from the land whose name is Never More
+</p>
+<p>
+My lost desire will bring?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">
+*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+These words she said
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Before the Pheidian Fates. &#34;There comes an end
+</p>
+<p>
+Of love, and mine is fled:
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+But, if you let me, I will be your friend,
+</p>
+<p>
+A better friend, instead.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Was it her own,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The voice I heard, marmoreal, strange, remote,
+</p>
+<p>
+As though from yonder throne
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Clotho had spoken, and the headless throat
+</p>
+<p>
+Had uttered words of stone?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I sought her face;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+It was a mask inscrutable, a screen
+</p>
+<p>
+Baffling all hope to trace
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The woman whose passionate loveliness had been
+</p>
+<p>
+Mine for a little space.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Thereat I rose,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Smiling, and said&#8212;&#34;The dream is past and gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Surely Love comes and goes
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Even as he will. And who shall thwart him? None.
+</p>
+<p>
+Only, while water flows
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And night and day
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Chase one another round the rolling sphere,
+</p>
+<p>
+Henceforth our destined way
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Divides. Fare onward, then, and leave me, dear.
+</p>
+<p>
+There is no more to say.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">
+*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Harsh songs and sweet
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Come to me still, but as a tale twice told.
+</p>
+<p>
+The throb, the quivering beat
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Harry my blood no longer as of old,
+</p>
+<p>
+Nor stir my wayworn feet.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Yet for a threne
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Once more I wear the purple robe and make
+</p>
+<p>
+Sad music and serene
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For pity's sake, ah me, and the old time's sake,
+</p>
+<p>
+And all that might have been.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+For Love lies dead.
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Love, the immortal, the victorious,
+</p>
+<p>
+Is fallen and vanquished.
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+What charm can raise, what incantation rouse
+</p>
+<p>
+That lowly, piteous head?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Why should I weep
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My triumph? 'Twas my life or his. Behold
+</p>
+<p>
+The wound, how wide and deep
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Which in my side the arrow tipped with gold
+</p>
+<p>
+Smote as I lay asleep!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Across thy way
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I came not, Love, nor ever sought thy face;
+</p>
+<p>
+But me, who dreaming lay
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Peaceful within my quiet lurking-place,
+</p>
+<p>
+Thy shaft was sped to slay.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When hadst thou ruth,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That I should sorrow o'er thee and forgive?
+</p>
+<p>
+Why should I grieve, forsooth?
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Art thou not dead for ever, and I live?
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet&#8212;and yet, in truth
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Almost I would
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That I had perished, and beside my bier
+</p>
+<p>
+Thou and thy mother stood,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And from relenting eyes let fall a tear
+</p>
+<p>
+Upon me, and my blood
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Changed to a flower
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Imperishable, a hyacinthine bloom,
+</p>
+<p>
+In memory of an hour
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Splendidly lived between Delight and Doom
+</p>
+<p>
+Once when I wandered from my ivory tower.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+THOMAS HARDY
+</p>
+<a name="42">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY (182-)
+</p>
+<br>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+I
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+From Wynyard's Gap the livelong day,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+The livelong day,
+</p>
+<p>
+We beat afoot the northward way
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+We had travelled times before.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sun-blaze burning on our backs,
+</p>
+<p>
+Our shoulders sticking to our packs,
+</p>
+<p>
+By fosseway, fields, and turnpike tracks
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+We skirted sad Sedge Moor.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+II
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Full twenty miles we jaunted on,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+We jaunted on&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+My fancy-man, and jeering John,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And Mother Lee, and I.
+</p>
+<p>
+And, as the sun drew down to west,
+</p>
+<p>
+We climbed the toilsome Poldon crest,
+</p>
+<p>
+And saw, of landskip sights the best,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+The inn that beamed thereby.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+III
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+For months we had padded side by side,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Ay, side by side
+</p>
+<p>
+Through the Great Forest, Blackmoor wide,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And where the Parret ran.
+</p>
+<p>
+We'd faced the gusts on Mendip ridge,
+</p>
+<p>
+Had crossed the Yeo unhelped by bridge,
+</p>
+<p>
+Been stung by every Marshwood midge,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+I and my fancy man.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+IV
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Lone inns we loved, my man and I,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+My man and I;
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;King's Stag,&#34; &#34;Windwhistle&#34; high and dry,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+&#34;The Horse&#34; on Hintock Green,
+</p>
+<p>
+The cosy house at Wynyard's Gap,
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;The Hut&#34; renowned on Bredy Knap,
+</p>
+<p>
+And many another wayside tap
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Where folk might sit unseen.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+V
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Now as we trudged&#8212;O deadly day,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+O deadly day!&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+I teased my fancy-man in play
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And wanton idleness.
+</p>
+<p>
+I walked alongside jeering John,
+</p>
+<p>
+I laid his hand my waist upon;
+</p>
+<p>
+I would not bend my glances on
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+My lover's dark distress.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+VI
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Thus Poldon top at last we won,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+At last we won,
+</p>
+<p>
+And gained the inn at sink of sun
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Far famed as &#34;Marshall's Elm.&#34;
+</p>
+<p>
+Beneath us figured tor and lea,
+</p>
+<p>
+From Mendip to the western sea&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+I doubt if finer sight there be
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Within this royal realm.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+VII
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Inside the settle all a-row&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+All four a-row
+</p>
+<p>
+We sat, I next to John, to show
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+That he had wooed and won.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then he took me on his knee,
+</p>
+<p>
+And swore it was his turn to be
+</p>
+<p>
+My favoured mate, and Mother Lee
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Passed to my former one.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+VIII
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then in a voice I had never heard,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+I had never heard,
+</p>
+<p>
+My only Love to me: &#34;One word,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+My lady, if you please!
+</p>
+<p>
+Whose is the child you are like to bear?&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+<em>
+His?
+</em>
+After all my months of care?&#34;
+</p>
+<p>
+God knows 'twas not! But, O despair!
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+I nodded&#8212;still to tease.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+IX
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then up he sprung, and with his knife&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+And with his knife
+</p>
+<p>
+He let out jeering Johnny's life,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Yes; there, at set of sun.
+</p>
+<p>
+The slant ray through the window nigh
+</p>
+<p>
+Gilded John's blood and glazing eye,
+</p>
+<p>
+Ere scarcely Mother Lee and I
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Knew that the deed was done.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+X
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The taverns tell the gloomy tale,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+The gloomy tale,
+</p>
+<p>
+How that at Ivel-chester jail
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+My Love, my sweetheart swung;
+</p>
+<p>
+Though stained till now by no misdeed
+</p>
+<p>
+Save one horse ta'en in time o' need;
+</p>
+<p>
+(Blue Jimmy stole right many a steed
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Ere his last fling he flung.)
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+XI
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Thereaft I walked the world alone,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Alone, alone!
+</p>
+<p>
+On his death-day I gave my groan
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And dropped his dead-born child.
+</p>
+<p>
+'Twas nigh the jail, beneath a tree,
+</p>
+<p>
+None tending me; for Mother Lee
+</p>
+<p>
+Had died at Glaston, leaving me
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Unfriended on the wild.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+XII
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And in the night as I lay weak,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+As I lay weak,
+</p>
+<p>
+The leaves a-falling on my cheek,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+The red moon low declined&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+The ghost of him I'd die to kiss
+</p>
+<p>
+Rose up and said: &#34;Ah, tell me this!
+</p>
+<p>
+Was the child mine, or was it his?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Speak, that I rest may find!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+XIII
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+O doubt not but I told him then,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+I told him then,
+</p>
+<p>
+That I had kept me from all men
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Since we joined lips and swore.
+</p>
+<p>
+Whereat he smiled, and thinned away
+</p>
+<p>
+As the wind stirred to call up day ...
+</p>
+<p>
+&#8212;'Tis past! And here alone I stray
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Haunting the Western Moor.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+1902.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="47">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+CHORUS FROM &#34;THE DYNASTS&#34;
+</p>
+<p class="ctr">
+(Part III).
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">
+Last as first the question rings
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Of the Will's long travailings;
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Why the All-mover,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Why the All-prover
+</p>
+<p>
+Ever urges on and measures out the droning tune of Things.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">
+Heaving dumbly
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+As we deem,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+As in dream,
+</p>
+<p>
+Apprehending not how fare the sentient subjects of Its scheme.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Nay;&#8212;shall not Its blindness break?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Yea, must not Its heart awake,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Promptly tending
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+To Its mending
+</p>
+<p>
+In a genial germing purpose, and for loving-kindness' sake?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">
+Should It never
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Curb or cure
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Aught whatever
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Those endure
+</p>
+<p>
+Whom It quickens, let them darkle to extinction swift and sure.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+But a stirring thrills the air,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Like to sounds of joyance there
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+That the rages
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Of the ages
+</p>
+<p>
+Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered from the darts that were,
+</p>
+<p>
+Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+1907.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="49">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE BALLAD SINGER
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sing, Ballad-singer, raise a hearty tune;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Make me forget that there was ever a one
+</p>
+<p>
+I walked with in the meek light of the moon
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+When the day's work was done.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Rhyme, Ballad-rhymer, start a country song;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Make me forget that she whom I loved well
+</p>
+<p>
+Swore she would love me dearly, love me long,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Then&#8212;what I cannot tell!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sing, Ballad-singer, from your little book;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Make me forget those heart-breaks, achings, fears;
+</p>
+<p>
+Make me forget her name, her sweet sweet look&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Make me forget her tears.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+RALPH HODGSON
+</p>
+<a name="50">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE MOOR
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The world's gone forward to its latest fair
+</p>
+<p>
+And dropt an old man done with by the way,
+</p>
+<p>
+To sit alone among the bats and stare
+</p>
+<p>
+At miles and miles and miles of moorland bare
+</p>
+<p>
+Lit only with last shreds of dying day.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Not all the world, not all the world's gone by;
+</p>
+<p>
+Old man, you're like to meet one traveller still,
+</p>
+<p>
+A journeyman well kenned for courtesy
+</p>
+<p>
+To all that walk at odds with life and limb;
+</p>
+<p>
+If this be he now riding up the hill
+</p>
+<p>
+Maybe he'll stop and take you up with him....
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;But thou art Death?&#34; &#34;Of Heavenly Seraphim
+</p>
+<p>
+None else to seek thee out and bid thee come.&#34;
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;I only care that thou art come from Him,
+</p>
+<p>
+Unbody me&#8212;I'm tired&#8212;and get me home.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="51">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+TIME, YOU OLD GIPSY MAN
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Time, you old gipsy man,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Will you not stay,
+</p>
+<p>
+Put up your caravan
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Just for one day?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+All things I'll give you
+</p>
+<p>
+Will you be my guest,
+</p>
+<p>
+Bells for your jennet
+</p>
+<p>
+Of silver the best,
+</p>
+<p>
+Goldsmiths shall beat you
+</p>
+<p>
+A great golden ring,
+</p>
+<p>
+Peacocks shall bow to you,
+</p>
+<p>
+Little boys sing,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, and sweet girls will
+</p>
+<p>
+Festoon you with may,
+</p>
+<p>
+Time, you old gipsy,
+</p>
+<p>
+Why hasten away?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Last week in Babylon,
+</p>
+<p>
+Last night in Rome,
+</p>
+<p>
+Morning, and in the crush
+</p>
+<p>
+Under Paul's dome;
+</p>
+<p>
+Under Paul's dial
+</p>
+<p>
+You tighten your rein,
+</p>
+<p>
+Only a moment
+</p>
+<p>
+And off once again;
+</p>
+<p>
+Off to some city
+</p>
+<p>
+Now blind in the womb,
+</p>
+<p>
+Off to another
+</p>
+<p>
+Ere that's in the tomb.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Time, you old gipsy man,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Will you not stay,
+</p>
+<p>
+Put up your caravan
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Just for one day?
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="53">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+GHOUL CARE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sour fiend, go home and tell the Pit:
+</p>
+<p>
+For once you met your master,
+</p>
+<p>
+A man who carried in his soul
+</p>
+<p>
+Three charms against disaster,
+</p>
+<p>
+The Devil and disaster.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Away, away, and tell the tale
+</p>
+<p>
+And start your whelps a-whining,
+</p>
+<p>
+Say &#34;In the greenwood of his soul
+</p>
+<p>
+A lizard's eye was shining,
+</p>
+<p>
+A little eye kept shining.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Away, away, and salve your sores,
+</p>
+<p>
+And set your hags a-groaning,
+</p>
+<p>
+Say &#34;In the greenwood of his soul
+</p>
+<p>
+A drowsy bee was droning,
+</p>
+<p>
+A dreamy bee was droning.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Prodigious Bat! Go start the walls
+</p>
+<p>
+Of Hell with horror ringing,
+</p>
+<p>
+Say &#34;In the greenwood of his soul
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a goldfinch singing,
+</p>
+<p>
+A pretty goldfinch singing.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And then come back, come, if you please,
+</p>
+<p>
+A fiercer ghoul and ghaster,
+</p>
+<p>
+With all the glooms and smuts of Hell
+</p>
+<p>
+Behind you, I'm your master!
+</p>
+<p>
+You know I'm still your master.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+W. G. HOLE
+</p>
+<a name="54">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+ROOSEVELT-VILLAGE STREET
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Nought is there here the eye to strike&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Uncurved canals where barges ply;
+</p>
+<p>
+A hundred hamlets all alike;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Flat fields that cut an arc of sky
+</p>
+<p>
+With men and women o'er them bent
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Who needs must labour lest they die.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Would any say that lives so spent
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Might break, spurred on by love and pride,
+</p>
+<p>
+Their bars of animal content?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Nay, here live men unvexed, untried&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+I mused. Yet pacing Roosevelt street
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+In idle humour I espied
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+A village man and woman meet,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And pass with never word or sign&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+So strange in neighbour-folk whose feet
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Haunt the same fields in rain and shine
+</p>
+<p>
+That, curious eyed, in either face,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+In curve of lip, or graven line,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I sought for hints of pain or trace
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Of harsh resolve, and so grew ware
+</p>
+<p>
+That hers was as a hiding place
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Where lurked the kinship of despair;
+</p>
+<p>
+While his bore record deeply wrought
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+That life for him had but one care,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And that&#8212;to mesh re-iterant thought
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+In labour, till at last his soul
+</p>
+<p>
+Should find the anodyne it sought.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Hence now with dreary face he stole
+</p>
+<p>
+Through Roosevelt Street, nor stretched his hand
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To beg from life its smallest dole.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And yet these two had loved and planned
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To happiest end, but for the flood
+</p>
+<p>
+That wrecks, upreared on rock or sand,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+The house of hopes. Thus&#8212;cold of mood,
+</p>
+<p>
+He, loving wholly, could but choose
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To deem her heart as his subdued;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+While she, as maidens oft-times use,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Denied sweet proofs of love, was fain
+</p>
+<p>
+To gain them by the world-old ruse;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+And failing, vexed to find that vain
+</p>
+<p>
+Was all her pretty reticence,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+She happed upon a worthless swain
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+On whom, reserved the gold, the pence
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Of liberal smiles she flung away,
+</p>
+<p>
+Till, snared by her own innocence,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+She fell&#8212;Ah, God! how far that day
+</p>
+<p>
+She fell&#8212;from hope and promise plumb,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To deeps where lips forget to pray.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But he, apart, with sorrow dumb,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Beheld, scarce conscious of the strife,
+</p>
+<p>
+Himself in her by fate o'ercome;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+And as she passed to her new life,
+</p>
+<p>
+Righted by still more wrong, divined
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Her hate for him who called her wife,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And on the hoarded knowledge pined
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And starved, till he, as she, was dead,
+</p>
+<p>
+And nought remained but to unwind
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+His coil of days. So with slow tread
+</p>
+<p>
+He goes his way through Roosevelt Street
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+At night and morn, nor turns his head
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When past him comes the sound of feet&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Of ghostly feet that long ago
+</p>
+<p>
+In life had made his pulses beat.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+For, mark you, both are dead, and so
+</p>
+<p>
+Small wonder is it nought should pass
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Betwixt them in the street, I trow.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Yet still they move with that huge mass
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Of life unpurposeful that reaps
+</p>
+<p>
+The corn in season, mows the grass,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+And then by right of labour sleeps
+</p>
+<p>
+With privilege of dreams that ape
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Fulfilment, whereby each may creep
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+From pain through doors of dear escape;
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Save such, unhappy, as would win
+</p>
+<p>
+Some respite for themselves, and shape
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">
+Those passionate, deep appeals that din
+</p>
+<p>
+The Powers, ere season due, to stay
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+The long slow tragedies of sin.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="58">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE HAUNTED FIELDS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I know of fields by voices haunted still
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+That years ago grew hushed;
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Whose buttercups are brushed
+</p>
+<p>
+By feet that long have ceased to climb the hill.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+On whose green slopes the happy children play
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+As on a mother's lap,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Then steal through gate and gap,
+</p>
+<p>
+And by strange hedge-rows make their wondering way.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sometimes great seas of ripening corn they spy
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Across whose rippling face
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+The shadowy billows race
+</p>
+<p>
+And round the gate, forlornly whispering, die;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Or in dark rutted lanes by weeds o'ergrown,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Round-eyed they watch a thrush
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+That breaks the noonday hush
+</p>
+<p>
+Dashing with zest a snail against a stone;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+At others, on an impulse waxing brave,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+They climb the churchyard wall
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+And, marvelling at it all,
+</p>
+<p>
+See strange black people gathered round a grave.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then, without question, hurrying up the lane,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+They seek once more their own&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+That world in which is known
+</p>
+<p>
+No fear of death, nor thought of change or pain.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where still they call and answer, still they play,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+And summer is ever there;
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+But I&#8212;I never dare
+</p>
+<p>
+Pass through those fields, retrace the well-known way,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Lest I might meet a lad whom once I knew,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Whose eyes accusingly
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Should make demand of me:
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;Where are those dreams I left in charge with you?&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="60">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+CAPTIVE IN LONDON TOWN
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+There comes a ghostly space
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+'Twixt midnight and the dawn,
+</p>
+<p>
+When from the heart of London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The tides of life are drawn.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+What time, when Spring is due,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The captives dungeoned deep
+</p>
+<p>
+Beneath the stones of London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Grow troubled in their sleep,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And wake&#8212;mint, mallow, dock,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Brambles in bondage sore,
+</p>
+<p>
+And grasses shut in London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A thousand years and more.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Yet though beneath the stones
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+They starve, and overhead
+</p>
+<p>
+The countless feet pace London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of men who hold them dead,
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Like Samson, blind and scorned,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In pain their time they bide
+</p>
+<p>
+To seize the roots of London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And tumble down its pride.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Now well by proof and sign,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+By men unheard, unseen,
+</p>
+<p>
+They know that far from London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The woods once more are green.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But theirs is still to wait,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Deaf to the myriad hum,
+</p>
+<p>
+Beneath the stones of London Town
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A Spring that needs must come.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+LAURENCE HOUSMAN
+</p>
+<a name="61">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE FELLOW-TRAVELLERS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Fellow-travellers here with me,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Loose for good each other's loads!
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Here we come to the cross-roads:
+</p>
+<p>
+Here must parting be.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where will you five be to-night?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Where shall I? we little know:
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Loosed from you, I let you go
+</p>
+<p>
+Utterly from sight.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Far away go taste and touch,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Far go sight, and sound, and smell.
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Fellow-Travellers, fare you well,&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+You I loved so much.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="62">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE SETTLERS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+How green the earth, how blue the sky,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+How pleasant all the days that pass,
+</p>
+<p>
+Here where the British settlers lie
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Beneath their cloaks of grass!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Here ancient peace resumes her round,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And rich from toil stand hill and plain;
+</p>
+<p>
+Men reap and store; but they sleep sound,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The men who sowed the grain.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Hard to the plough their hands they put,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And wheresoe'er the soil had need
+</p>
+<p>
+The furrow drave, and underfoot
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+They sowed themselves for seed.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Ah! not like him whose hand made yield
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The brazen kine with fiery breath,
+</p>
+<p>
+And over all the Colchian field
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Strewed far the seeds of death;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Till, as day sank, awoke to war
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The seedlings of the dragon's teeth,
+</p>
+<p>
+And death ran multiplied once more
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Across the hideous heath.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But rich in flocks be all these farms,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And fruitful be the fields which hide
+</p>
+<p>
+Brave eyes that loved the light, and arms
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+That never clasped a bride!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+O willing hearts turned quick to clay,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Glad lovers holding death in scorn,
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of the lives ye cast away
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The coming race is born.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="63">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+SONG
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sleep lies in every cup
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of land or flower:
+</p>
+<p>
+Look how the earth drains up
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Her evening hour!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Each face that once so laughed,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Now fain would lift
+</p>
+<p>
+Lips to Life's sleeping-draught,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The goodlier gift.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Oh, whence this overflow,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+This flood of rest?
+</p>
+<p>
+What vale of healing so
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Unlocks her breast?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+What land, to give us right
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of refuge, yields
+</p>
+<p>
+To the sharp scythes of light
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Her poppied fields?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Nay, wait! our turn to make
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Amends grows due!
+</p>
+<p>
+Another day will break,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+We must give too!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+EMILIA STUART LORIMER
+</p>
+<a name="64">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+LOVE SONGS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+I
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+White-dreaming face of my dear,
+</p>
+<p>
+Waken; the dawn is here.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Ope, oh so misty eyes;
+</p>
+<p>
+Keep ope, and recognize!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Mouth, o'er the far sleep-sea
+</p>
+<p>
+Spread now thy smile-wings for me.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+II
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Take from me the little flowers
+</p>
+<p>
+And the bright-eyed beasts and the birds;
+</p>
+<p>
+And the babies, oh God, take away;
+</p>
+<p>
+Hearken my praying-words;
+</p>
+<p>
+Empty my road of them,
+</p>
+<p>
+Empty my house and my arm,
+</p>
+<p>
+For black is my heart with hate,
+</p>
+<p>
+And I would not these come to harm.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="65">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+STORM
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Twigs of despair on the high trees uplifted,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Torn cloud flying behind;
+</p>
+<p>
+Whistling wind through the dead leaves drifted;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Oho! my mind
+</p>
+<p>
+With you is racked and ruined and rifted.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Waves of the angry firth high-flying,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Rainstorm striping the sea,
+</p>
+<p>
+Sleet-mist shrouding the hills; day dying;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Now around me
+</p>
+<p>
+Closes the darkness of night in, wild crying.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+God of the storm, in thy storm's heart unmeted
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My shallop-soul rideth where roars
+</p>
+<p>
+The swirling water-spout&#8212;rides undefeated;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+No rudder, no oars;
+</p>
+<p>
+Only within, thy small image seated.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+JAMES A. MACKERETH
+</p>
+<a name="66">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+TO A BLACKBIRD ON NEW YEAR'S DAY
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Hail, truant with song-troubled breast&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Thou welcome and bewildering guest!
+</p>
+<p>
+Blithe troubadour, whose laughing note
+</p>
+<p>
+Brings Spring into a poet's throat,&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Flute, feathered joy! thy painted bill
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Foretells the daffodil.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Enchanter, 'gainst the evening star
+</p>
+<p>
+Singing to worlds where dreamers are,
+</p>
+<p>
+That makes upon the leafless bough
+</p>
+<p>
+A solitary vernal vow&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Sing, lyric soul! within thy song
+</p>
+<p>
+The love that lures the rose along!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The snowdrop, hearing, in the dell
+</p>
+<p>
+Doth tremble for its virgin bell;
+</p>
+<p>
+The crocus feels within its frame
+</p>
+<p>
+The magic of its folded flame;
+</p>
+<p>
+And many a listening patience lies
+</p>
+<p>
+And pushes toward its paradise.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Young love again on golden gales
+</p>
+<p>
+Scents hawthorn blown down happy dales;
+</p>
+<p>
+The phantom cuckoo calls forlorn
+</p>
+<p>
+From limits of the haunted morn;&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Sing, elfin heart! thy notes to me
+</p>
+<p>
+Are bells that ring in Faery!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Again the world is young, is young,
+</p>
+<p>
+And silence takes a silver tongue;
+</p>
+<p>
+The echoes catch the lyric mood
+</p>
+<p>
+Of laughing children in the wood:
+</p>
+<p>
+Blithe April trips in winter's way
+</p>
+<p>
+And nature, wondering, dreams of May.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sing on, thou dusky fount of life!
+</p>
+<p>
+God love thee for a merry sprite!
+</p>
+<p>
+Sing on! for though the sun be coy
+</p>
+<p>
+I sense with thee a budding joy,
+</p>
+<p>
+And all my heart with ranging rhyme
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Is poet for the prime!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="68">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+LA DANSEUSE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+She moved like silence swathed in light,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Like mists at morning clear;
+</p>
+<p>
+A music that enamoured sight
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Yet did elude the ear.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+A rapture and a spirit clad
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In motion soft as sleep;
+</p>
+<p>
+The epitome of all things glad,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The sum of all that weep;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Her form was like a poet's mind&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+By all sensations sought;
+</p>
+<p>
+She seemed the substance of the wind,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The shape of lyric thought,&#8212;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+A being 'mid terrestrial things
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Transcendently forlorn,
+</p>
+<p>
+From time bound far on filmy wings
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For some diviner bourne.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The rhythms of the raptured heart
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Swayed to her sweet control;
+</p>
+<p>
+Life in her keeping all was art,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And all of body soul.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Lone-shimmering in the roseate air
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+She seemed to ebb and flow,
+</p>
+<p>
+A memory, perilously fair,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And pale from long ago.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+She stooped to time's remembered tears,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Yearned to undawned delight.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ah beauty, passionate from the years!
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Oh body wise and white!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+She vanished like an evening cloud,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A sunset's radiant gleam.
+</p>
+<p>
+She vanished ... Life awhile endowed
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The darkness with a dream.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="70">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+GOD RETURNS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Dear God, before Thee many weep
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And bow the solemn knee;
+</p>
+<p>
+But I who have thy joy to keep
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Will sing and dance for Thee.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Come, lilt ye, lilt ye, lightsome birds,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For ye are glad as I;
+</p>
+<p>
+Come frisk, ye sunlit flocks and herds
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And cherubs of the sky;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sweet elfin mischief of the hill,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+We'll share a laugh together&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh half the world is hoyden still,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And waits for whistling weather!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The God of age is staid and old,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And asks a sober tongue;
+</p>
+<p>
+But till the heart of youth is cold
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The God of youth is young!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then kiss, blithe lass and happy lad!
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The rainbow passes over,
+</p>
+<p>
+And love and life, the leal and glad,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Must step with time the rover.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Trip buds and bells in spangled ways!
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Leap, leaves in every tree!
+</p>
+<p>
+Ye winds and waters, nights and days,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Dance, dance for Deity.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+On every hand is elfin land,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And faery gifts are falling;
+</p>
+<p>
+Across the world, a twinkling band,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The elves are calling&#8212;calling.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+In welcome smile the witching skies,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And with a jocund train,
+</p>
+<p>
+With dancing joy-light in His eyes,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+God, God comes home again!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+ALICE MEYNELL
+</p>
+<a name="72">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+TO THE BODY
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Thou inmost, ultimate
+</p>
+<p>
+Council of judgment, palace of decrees,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where the high senses hold their spiritual state,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Sued by earth's embassies,
+</p>
+<p>
+And sign, approve, accept, conceive, create;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Create&#8212;thy senses close
+</p>
+<p>
+With the world's pleas. The random odours reach
+</p>
+<p>
+Their sweetness in the place of thy repose,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Upon thy tongue the peach,
+</p>
+<p>
+And in thy nostrils breathes the breathing rose.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+To thee, secluded one,
+</p>
+<p>
+The dark vibrations of the sightless skies,
+</p>
+<p>
+The lovely inexplicit colours run;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The light gropes for those eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+O thou august! thou dost command the sun.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Music, all dumb, hath trod
+</p>
+<p>
+Into thine ear her one effectual way;
+</p>
+<p>
+And fire and cold approach to gain thy nod,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Where thou call'st up the day,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where thou await'st the appeal of God.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="73">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+CHRIST IN THE UNIVERSE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+With this ambiguous earth
+</p>
+<p>
+His dealings have been told us. These abide:
+</p>
+<p>
+The signal to a maid, the human birth,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The lesson, and the young Man crucified.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+But not a star of all
+</p>
+<p>
+The innumerable host of stars has heard
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+How He administered this terrestrial ball.
+</p>
+<p>
+Our race have kept their Lord's entrusted Word.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Of His earth-visiting feet
+</p>
+<p>
+None knows the secret, cherished, perilous,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The terrible, shamefast, frightened, whispered, sweet,
+</p>
+<p>
+Heart-shattering secret of His way with us.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+No planet knows that this
+</p>
+<p>
+Our wayside planet, carrying land and wave,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Love and life multiplied, and pain and bliss,
+</p>
+<p>
+Bears, as chief treasure, one forsaken grave.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Nor, in our little day,
+</p>
+<p>
+May His devices with the heavens be guessed,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+His pilgrimage to thread the Milky Way
+</p>
+<p>
+Or His bestowals there be manifest.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+But in the eternities,
+</p>
+<p>
+Doubtless we shall compare together, hear
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A million alien Gospels, in what guise
+</p>
+<p>
+He trod the Pleiades, the Lyre, the Bear.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+O, be prepared, my soul!
+</p>
+<p>
+To read the inconceivable, to scan
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The million forms of God those stars unroll
+</p>
+<p>
+When, in our turn, we show to them a Man.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="74">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+MATERNITY
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+One wept whose only child was dead,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+New-born, ten years ago.
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;Weep not; he is in bliss,&#34; they said.
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+She answered, &#34;Even so.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;Ten years ago was born in pain
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A child, not now forlorn.
+</p>
+<p>
+But oh, ten years ago, in vain,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A mother, a mother was born.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+WILL H. OGILVIE
+</p>
+<a name="75">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THERE'S A CLEAN WIND BLOWING
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+There's a clean wind blowing
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Over hill-flower and peat,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where the bell heather's growing,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the brown burn flowing,
+</p>
+<p>
+And the ghost-shadows going
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Down the glen on stealthy feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the breath of it is sweet.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the world holds but three:
+</p>
+<p>
+The purple peak against the sky,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The master wind, and me.
+</p>
+<p>
+The moor birds are tossing
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Like ships upon the sea;
+</p>
+<p>
+There's a clean wind blowing
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Free.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Untainted of the town,
+</p>
+<p>
+A fair-hitting foeman
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With his glove flung down.
+</p>
+<p>
+Will ye take his lordly challenge
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And the gauntlet that he throws,
+</p>
+<p>
+And come forth among the heather
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Where the clean wind blows!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="76">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE GARDEN OF THE NIGHT
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The Night is a far-spreading garden, and all through the hours
+</p>
+<p>
+Glisten and glitter and sparkle her wonderful flowers.
+</p>
+<p>
+First the great moon-rose full blooming; the great bed of stars
+</p>
+<p>
+Touching with restful gold petals the woodland's dark bars;
+</p>
+<p>
+Then arc-lights like asters that blossom in street and in square,
+</p>
+<p>
+And lamps like primroses beyond them in planted parterre;
+</p>
+<p>
+Great tulips of crimson that rise from the factory towers;
+</p>
+<p>
+White lilies that drop from deep windows: all flowers, the Night's flowers!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Blooms on the highway that twinkle and fade like the stars,
+</p>
+<p>
+Golden and red on the vans and the carts and the cars;
+</p>
+<p>
+Clusters of bloom in the village; lone homesteads a-light,
+</p>
+<p>
+Decking the lawns of the darkness, the plots of the Night.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the bright blossoms of platform and signal that shine
+</p>
+<p>
+By the iron-paved path of the garden&#8212;the lights of the Line;
+</p>
+<p>
+The gold flowers of comfort and caution; the buds of dull red,
+</p>
+<p>
+Sombre with warning; the green leaves that say &#34;Right ahead!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then the flowers in the harbour that low to the tide of it lean;
+</p>
+<p>
+The lights on the port and the starboard, the red and the green,
+</p>
+<p>
+Mixing and mingling with mast lights that move in the air,
+</p>
+<p>
+And deck lights and wharf lights and lights upon pier-head and stair;
+</p>
+<p>
+An edging of gold where a liner steals by like a thief;
+</p>
+<p>
+The giant grey gleam of a searchlight that swings like a leaf;
+</p>
+<p>
+And far out to seaward faint petals that flutter and fall
+</p>
+<p>
+Against the white flower of the Lighthouse that gathers them all.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Then flower lights all golden with welcome&#8212;the lights of the inn;
+</p>
+<p>
+And poisonous hell-flowers, lit doorways that beckon to sin;
+</p>
+<p>
+Soft vesper flowers of the Churches with dark stems above;
+</p>
+<p>
+Gold flowers of court and of cottage made one flower by love;
+</p>
+<p>
+Beacons of windows on hillside and cliff to recall
+</p>
+<p>
+Some wanderer lost for a season&#8212;Night's flowers one and all!
+</p>
+<p>
+In the street, in the lane, on the Line, on the ships and the towers,
+</p>
+<p>
+In the windows of cottage and palace&#8212;all flowers, the Night's flowers!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="79">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE CROSSING SWORDS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+As I lay dreaming in the grass
+</p>
+<p>
+I saw a Knight of Tourney pass&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+All conquering Summer. Twilit hours
+</p>
+<p>
+Made soft light round him, rainbow flowers
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Hung on his harness.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+Down the dells
+</p>
+<p>
+The fairy heralds rang blue-bells,
+</p>
+<p>
+And even as they rocked and rang
+</p>
+<p>
+Into the lists, full-armed, there sprang
+</p>
+<p>
+Autumn, his helm the harvest moon,
+</p>
+<p>
+His sword a sickle, the gleaner's tune
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+His hymn of battle.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+Each bowed full low,
+</p>
+<p>
+Knight to knight as to worthy foe,
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Autumn tossed as his gauntlet down&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+A leaf of the lime tree, golden brown&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+And Summer bound it above the green
+</p>
+<p>
+Of his shining breast-plate's verdant sheen.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#8212;They closed. Above them the driving mists
+</p>
+<p>
+Stooped and feathered&#8212;and hid the lists.
+</p>
+<p>
+Later the cloud mist rolled away
+</p>
+<p>
+But dead in his harness the Green Knight lay.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+STEPHEN PHILLIPS
+</p>
+<a name="80">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+LURES IMMORTAL
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Sadly, apparently frustrate, life hangs above us,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Cruel, dark unexplained;
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet still the immortal through mortal incessantly pierces
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With calls, with appeals, and with lures.
+</p>
+<p>
+Lure of the sinking sun, into undreamed islands,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Fortunate, far in the West;
+</p>
+<p>
+Lure of the star, with speechless news o'er brimming,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With language of darted light;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the sea-glory of opening lids of Aurora,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Ushering eyes of the dawn;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the callow bird in the matin darkness calling,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Chorus of drowsy charm;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the wind, south-west, with whispering leaves illumined,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Solemn gold of the woods;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the intimate breeze of noon, deep-charged with a message,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+How near, at times, unto speech!
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the sea, that soul of a poet a-yearn for expression,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+For ever yearning in vain!
+</p>
+<p>
+Hoarse o'er the shingle with loud, unuttered meanings,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Hurling on caverns his heart.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the summer night, what to communicate, eager?
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Perchance the secret of peace.
+</p>
+<p>
+The lure of the silver to gold, of the pale unto colour,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of the seen to the real unseen;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of voices away to the voiceless, of sound unto silence,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Of words to a wordless calm;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of music doomed unto wandering, still returning,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Ever to heaven and home.
+</p>
+<p>
+The lure of the beautiful woman through flesh unto spirit,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Through a smile unto endless light;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the flight of a bird thro' evening over the marsh-land,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Lingering in Heaven alone;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the vessel disappearing over the sea-marge,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With him or with her that we love;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the sudden touch in the hand of a friend or a maiden,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Thrilling up to the stars.
+</p>
+<p>
+The appealing death of a soldier, the moon just rising,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Kindling the battle-field;
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the cup of water, refused by the thirsting Sidney,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Parched with the final pang:
+</p>
+<p>
+Of the crucified Christ, yet lo, those arms extended,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Wide, as a world to embrace;
+</p>
+<p>
+And last, and grandest, the lure, the invitation,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And sacred wooing of death;
+</p>
+<p>
+Unto what regions, or heavens, or solemn spaces,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Who, but by dying, can tell?
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="82">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+BEAUTIFUL LIE THE DEAD
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Beautiful lie the dead;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Clear comes each feature;
+</p>
+<p>
+Satisfied not to be,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Strangely contented.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Like ships, the anchor dropped,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Furled every sail is
+</p>
+<p>
+Mirrored with all their masts
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In a deep water.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="83">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+A LYRIC FROM &#34;THE SIN OF DAVID&#34;
+</p>
+<br>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+I
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Red skies above a level land
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And thoughts of thee;
+</p>
+<p>
+Sinking Sun on reedy strand,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And alder tree.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+II
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Only the heron sailing home
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+With heavy flight!
+</p>
+<p>
+Ocean afar in silent foam,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And coming night!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i12">
+III
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Dwindling day and drowsing birds,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+O my child!
+</p>
+<p>
+Dimness and returning herds,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Memory wild.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+EDEN PHILLPOTTS
+</p>
+<a name="84">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+A DEVON COURTING
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Birds gived over singin'
+</p>
+<p>
+Flitter-mice was wingin'
+</p>
+<p>
+Mist lay on the meadows&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+A purty sight to see.
+</p>
+<p>
+Downling in the dimpsy, the dimpsy, the dimpsy&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Downling in the dimpsy
+</p>
+<p>
+Theer went a maid wi' me.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Two gude mile o' walkin'
+</p>
+<p>
+Not wan word o' talkin',
+</p>
+<p>
+Then I axed a question
+</p>
+<p>
+An' put the same to she.
+</p>
+<p>
+Uplong in the owl-light, the owl-light, the owl-light&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Uplong in the owl-light
+</p>
+<p>
+Theer come my maid wi' me.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="85">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+A LITANY TO PAN
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By the abortions of the teeming Spring,
+</p>
+<p>
+By Summer's starved and withered offering,
+</p>
+<p>
+By Autumn's stricken hope and Winter's sting,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By the ichneumon on the writhing worm,
+</p>
+<p>
+By the swift, far-flung poison of the germ,
+</p>
+<p>
+By soft and foul brought out of hard and firm,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By the fierce battle under every blade,
+</p>
+<p>
+By the etiolation of the shade,
+</p>
+<p>
+By drouth and thirst and things undone half made,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By all the horrors of re-quickened dust,
+</p>
+<p>
+By the eternal waste of baffled lust,
+</p>
+<p>
+By mildews and by cankers and by rust,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By the fierce scythe of Spring upon the wold,
+</p>
+<p>
+By the dead eaning mother in the fold,
+</p>
+<p>
+By stillborn, stricken young and tortured old,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By fading eyes pecked from a dying head,
+</p>
+<p>
+By the hot mouthful of a thing not dead,
+</p>
+<p>
+By all thy bleeding, struggling, shrieking red,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By madness caged and madness running free,
+</p>
+<p>
+Through this our conscious race that heeds not thee,
+</p>
+<p>
+In its concept insane of Liberty,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+By all the agonies of all the past,
+</p>
+<p>
+By earth's cold dust and ashes at the last,
+</p>
+<p>
+By her return to the unconscious vast,
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, hear!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="87">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+SWINBURNE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Children and lovers and the cloud-robed sea
+</p>
+<p>
+Shall mourn him first; and then the mother land
+</p>
+<p>
+Weeping in silence by his empty hand
+</p>
+<p>
+And fallen sword that flashed for Liberty.
+</p>
+<p>
+Song-bringer of a glad new minstrelsy,
+</p>
+<p>
+He came and found joy sleeping and swift fanned
+</p>
+<p>
+Old pagan fires, then snatched an altar brand
+</p>
+<p>
+And wrote, &#34;The fearless only shall be free!&#34;
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Oh, by the flame that made thine heart a home,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+By the wild surges of thy silver song,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Seer before the sunrise, may there come
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Spirits of dawn to light this aching wrong
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Called Earth! Thou saw'st them in the foreglow roam;
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+But we still wait and watch, still thirst and long.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+DORA SIGERSON SHORTER
+</p>
+<a name="88">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE WATCHER IN THE WOOD
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Deep in the wood's recesses cool
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+I see the fairy dancers glide,
+</p>
+<p>
+In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My lord and lady side by side.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But who has hung from leaf to leaf,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+From flower to flower, a silken twine&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+A cloud of grey that holds the dew
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In globes of clear enchanted wine.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Or stretches far from branch to branch,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+From thorn to thorn, in diamond rain,
+</p>
+<p>
+Who caught the cup of crystal pine
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And hung so fair the shining chain?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+'Tis Death, the spider, in his net
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Who lures the dancers as they glide
+</p>
+<p>
+In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My lord and lady side by side.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="89">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE NAMELESS ONE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Last night a hand pushed on the door
+</p>
+<p>
+And tirled at the pin.
+</p>
+<p>
+I turned my face unto the wall,
+</p>
+<p>
+And could not cry, &#34;Come in!&#34;
+</p>
+<p>
+I dared not cry &#34;Come in!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Last night a voice wailed round the house
+</p>
+<p>
+And called my name upon,
+</p>
+<p>
+And bitter, bitter did it mourn:
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;Where is my mother gone?
+</p>
+<p>
+Where is my mother gone?&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+From saintly arms I slipped and flew
+</p>
+<p>
+Adown the moon-lit skies,
+</p>
+<p>
+I weary of the paths of Heav'n
+</p>
+<p>
+And flowers of Paradise&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Sweet scents of Paradise!
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;For little children prattle there,
+</p>
+<p>
+And whisper all the day
+</p>
+<p>
+Of lovely mothers on the earth,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where once they used to play,
+</p>
+<p>
+Who used with them to play.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+&#34;They linger laughing by the door,
+</p>
+<p>
+And wait the threshold on;
+</p>
+<p>
+I have no memory so fair,
+</p>
+<p>
+Where is my mother gone?
+</p>
+<p>
+Where is my mother gone?&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Thrice pushed the hand upon the door
+</p>
+<p>
+And tirled at the pin.
+</p>
+<p>
+I turned my face unto the wall,
+</p>
+<p>
+And could not cry, &#34;Come in!&#34;
+</p>
+<p>
+I dared not cry, &#34;Come in!&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="91">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+WHEN I SHALL RISE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When I shall rise, and full of many fears,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Set forth upon my last long journey lone,
+</p>
+<p>
+And leave behind the circling earth to go
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Amongst the countless stars to seek God's throne.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When in the vapourish blue, I wander, lost,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Let some fair paradise reward my eyes&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Hill after hill, and green and sunny vale,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+As I have known beneath the Irish skies.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+So on the far horizon I shall see
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+No alien land but this I hold so dear&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Killiney's silver sands, and Wicklow hills,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Dawn on my frightened eyes as I draw near.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+And if it be no evil prayer to breathe,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Oh, let no stranger saint or seraphim
+</p>
+<p>
+Wait there to lead up to the judgment seat,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+My timid soul with weeping eyes and dim.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+But let them come, those dear and lovely ghosts,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+In all their human guise and lustihood,
+</p>
+<p>
+To stand upon that shore and call me home,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Waving their joyful hands as once they stood&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+As once they stood!
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+ARTHUR SYMONS
+</p>
+<a name="92">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+TANAGRA
+<br>
+To Cavalieri dancing
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Tell me, Tanagra, who made
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of clay so sweet a thing?
+</p>
+<p>
+Are you the immortal shade
+</p>
+<p>
+Of a man's imagining?
+</p>
+<p>
+In your incarnation meet
+</p>
+<p>
+All things fair and all things fleet.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Arrow from Diana's bow, Atalanta's feet of fire,
+</p>
+<p>
+Some one made you long ago,
+</p>
+<p>
+Made you out of his desire.
+</p>
+<p>
+Waken from the sleep of clay
+</p>
+<p>
+And rise and dance the world away.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="93">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+GIOVANNI MALATESTA AT RIMINI
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Giovanni Malatesta, the lame old man,
+</p>
+<p>
+Walking one night, as he was used, being old,
+</p>
+<p>
+Upon the grey seashore at Rimini,
+</p>
+<p>
+And thinking dimly of those two whom love
+</p>
+<p>
+Led to one death, and his less happy soul
+</p>
+<p>
+For which Cain waited, heard a seagull scream,
+</p>
+<p>
+Twice, like Francesca; for he struck but twice.
+</p>
+<p>
+At that, rage thrust down pity; for it seemed
+</p>
+<p>
+As if those windy bodies with the sea's
+</p>
+<p>
+Unfriended heart within them for a voice
+</p>
+<p>
+Had turned to mock him, and he called them friends,
+</p>
+<p>
+And he had found a wild peace hearing them
+</p>
+<p>
+Cry senseless cries, halloing to the wind.
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned his back upon the sea; he saw
+</p>
+<p>
+The ragged teeth of the sharp Apennines
+</p>
+<p>
+Shut on the sea; his shadow in the moon
+</p>
+<p>
+Ploughed up a furrow with an iron staff
+</p>
+<p>
+In the hard sand, and thrust a long lean chin
+</p>
+<p>
+Outward and downward, and thrust out a foot,
+</p>
+<p>
+And leaned to follow after. As he saw
+</p>
+<p>
+His crooked knee go forward under him
+</p>
+<p>
+And after it the long straight iron staff,
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;The staff,&#34; he thought, &#34;is Paolo: like that staff
+</p>
+<p>
+And like that knee we walked between the sun,
+</p>
+<p>
+And her unmerciful eyes&#34;; and the old man,
+</p>
+<p>
+Thinking of God, and how God ruled the world,
+</p>
+<p>
+And gave to one man beauty for a snare
+</p>
+<p>
+And a warped body to another man,
+</p>
+<p>
+Not less than he in soul, not less than he
+</p>
+<p>
+In hunger and capacity for joy,
+</p>
+<p>
+Forgot Francesca's evil and his wrong,
+</p>
+<p>
+His anger, his revenge, that memory,
+</p>
+<p>
+Wondering at man's forgiveness of the old
+</p>
+<p>
+Divine injustice, wondering at himself:
+</p>
+<p>
+Giovanni Malatesta judging God.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="95">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+LA MELINITE: MOULIN ROUGE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Olivier Metra's Waltz of Roses
+</p>
+<p>
+Sheds in a rhythmic shower
+</p>
+<p>
+The very petals of the flower;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+And all is roses,
+</p>
+<p>
+The rouge of petals in a shower.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Down the long hall the dance returning
+</p>
+<p>
+Rounds the full circle, rounds
+</p>
+<p>
+The perfect rose of lights and sounds,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The rose returning
+</p>
+<p>
+Into the circle of its rounds.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Alone, apart, one dancer watches
+</p>
+<p>
+Her mirrored, morbid grace;
+</p>
+<p>
+Before the mirror, face to face,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Alone she watches
+</p>
+<p>
+Her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+Before the mirror's dance of shadows
+</p>
+<p>
+She dances in a dream,
+</p>
+<p>
+And she and they together seem
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A dance of shadows,
+</p>
+<p>
+Alike the shadows of a dream.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+The orange-rosy lamps are trembling
+</p>
+<p>
+Between the robes that turn;
+</p>
+<p>
+In ruddy flowers of flame that burn
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+The lights are trembling:
+</p>
+<p>
+The shadows and the dancers turn.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">
+And, enigmatically smiling,
+</p>
+<p>
+In the mysterious night,
+</p>
+<p>
+She dances for her own delight,
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+A shadow smiling
+</p>
+<p>
+Back to a shadow in the night.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+EVELYN UNDERHILL
+</p>
+<a name="97">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+IMMANENCE
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I come in the little things,
+</p>
+<p>
+Saith the Lord:
+</p>
+<p>
+Not borne on morning wings
+</p>
+<p>
+Of majesty, but I have set My Feet
+</p>
+<p>
+Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat
+</p>
+<p>
+That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod.
+</p>
+<p>
+There do I dwell, in weakness and in power;
+</p>
+<p>
+Not broken or divided, saith our God!
+</p>
+<p>
+In your strait garden plot I come to flower:
+</p>
+<p>
+About your porch My Vine
+</p>
+<p>
+Meek, fruitful, doth entwine;
+</p>
+<p>
+Waits, at the threshold, Love's appointed hour.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I come in the little things,
+</p>
+<p>
+Saith the Lord:
+</p>
+<p>
+Yea! on the glancing wings
+</p>
+<p>
+Of eager birds, the softly pattering feet
+</p>
+<p>
+Of furred and gentle beasts, I come to meet
+</p>
+<p>
+Your hard and wayward heart. In brown bright eyes
+</p>
+<p>
+That peep from out the brake, I stand confest.
+</p>
+<p>
+On every nest
+</p>
+<p>
+Where feathery Patience is content to brood
+</p>
+<p>
+And leaves her pleasure for the high emprise
+</p>
+<p>
+Of motherhood&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+There doth my Godhead rest.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I come in the little things,
+</p>
+<p>
+Saith the Lord:
+</p>
+<p>
+My starry wings
+</p>
+<p>
+I do forsake,
+</p>
+<p>
+Love's highway of humility to take;
+</p>
+<p>
+Meekly I fit my stature to your need.
+</p>
+<p>
+In beggar's part
+</p>
+<p>
+About your gates I shall not cease to plead&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+As man, to speak with man&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Till by such art
+</p>
+<p>
+I shall achieve My Immemorial Plan,
+</p>
+<p>
+Pass the low lintel of the human heart.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="99">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+INTROVERSION
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+What do you seek within, O Soul, my Brother?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+What do you seek within?
+</p>
+<p>
+I seek a life that shall never die,
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Some haven to win
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+From mortality.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+What do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+What do you find within?
+</p>
+<p>
+I find great quiet where no noises come.
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Without, the world's din:
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Silence in my home.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Whom do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Whom do you find within?
+</p>
+<p>
+I find a friend that in secret came:
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+His scarred hands within
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+He shields a faint flame.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+What would you do within, O Soul, my Brother?
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+What would you do within?
+</p>
+<p>
+Bar door and window that none may see:
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+That alone we may be
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+(Alone! face to face,
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+In that flame-lit place!)
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+When first we begin
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+To speak one with another.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="100">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+ICHTHUS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">
+Threatening the sky,
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Foreign and wild the sea,
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Yet all the fleet of fishers are afloat;
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+They lie
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Sails furled
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Each frail and tossing boat,
+</p>
+<p>
+And cast their little nets into an unknown world.
+</p>
+<p>
+The countless, darting splendours that they miss,
+</p>
+<p>
+The rare and vital magic of the main,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+The which for all their care
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+They never shall ensnare&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+All this
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Perchance in dreams they know;
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Yet are content
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+And count the night well spent
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+If so
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+The indrawn net contain
+</p>
+<p>
+The matter of their daily nourishment.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">
+The unseizable sea,
+</p>
+<p>
+The circumambient grace of Deity,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Where live and move
+</p>
+<p>
+Unnumbered presences of power and love,
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Slips through our finest net:
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+We draw it up all wet,
+</p>
+<p>
+A-shimmer with the dew-drops of that deep.
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+And yet
+</p>
+<p>
+For all their toil the fishers may not keep
+</p>
+<p>
+The instant living freshness of the wave;
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+Its passing benediction cannot give
+</p>
+<p class="i6">
+The mystic meat they crave
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+That they may live.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">
+But on some stormy night
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+We, venturing far from home,
+</p>
+<p>
+And casting our poor trammel to the tide,
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Perhaps shall feel it come
+</p>
+<p class="i10">
+Back to the vessel's side,
+</p>
+<p class="i12">
+So easy and so light
+</p>
+<p class="i14">
+A child might lift,
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet hiding in its mesh the one desired gift;
+</p>
+<p class="i12">
+That living food
+</p>
+<p>
+Which man for ever seeks to snatch from out the flood.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="ctr">
+MRS MARGARET L. WOODS
+</p>
+<a name="102">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+SONGS
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I've heard, I've heard
+</p>
+<p>
+The long low note of a bird,
+</p>
+<p>
+The nightingale fluting her heart's one word.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I know, I know
+</p>
+<p>
+Pink carnations heaped with snow.
+</p>
+<p>
+Summer and winter alike they blow.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I've lain, I've lain
+</p>
+<p>
+Under roses' delicate rain,
+</p>
+<p>
+That fall and whisper and fall again.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Come woe, come white
+</p>
+<p>
+Shroud o' the world, black night!
+</p>
+<p>
+I have had love and the sun's light.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<a name="103">
+&nbsp;
+</a>
+<p class="ctr">
+THE CHANGELING
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+When did the Changeling enter in?
+</p>
+<p>
+How did the Devil set him a gin
+</p>
+<p>
+Where the little soul lay like a rabbit
+</p>
+<p>
+Faint and still for a fiend to grab it?
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+I know not.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Where was the fount of our dishonour?
+</p>
+<p>
+Was it a father's buried sin?
+</p>
+<p>
+Brought his mother a curse upon her?
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+I trow not.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+So pretty
+</p>
+<p>
+Body and soul, the child began.
+</p>
+<p>
+He carolled and kissed and laughed and ran,
+</p>
+<p>
+A glad creature of Earth and Heaven,
+</p>
+<p>
+And the knowledge of love and the secret of pity,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+That need our learning,
+</p>
+<p>
+God to him at his birth had given.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+One remembers
+</p>
+<p>
+Trifles indeed&#8212;the backward-turning
+</p>
+<p>
+Way he would smile from the field at play.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sometimes the Thing that sits by the embers
+</p>
+<p>
+Smiles at me&#8212;devil!&#8212;the selfsame way.
+</p>
+<p>
+If only early enough one had guessed,
+</p>
+<p>
+Known, suspected, watched him at rest,
+</p>
+<p>
+Noted the Master's sign and fashion,
+</p>
+<p>
+And unbefooled by the heart's compassion,
+</p>
+<p>
+Undeterred by form and feature,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Caught the creature,
+</p>
+<p>
+Tried by the test of water and fire,
+</p>
+<p>
+Pierced and pinioned with silver wire,
+</p>
+<p>
+Circled with signs that could control,
+</p>
+<p>
+Battered with spells that tame and torture
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+The demon nature,
+</p>
+<p>
+Till he writhed in his shape, a fiend confest,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+And vanished&#8212;
+</p>
+<p class="i2">
+Then had come back, the poor soul banished,
+</p>
+<p>
+Then had come back the little soul.
+</p>
+<p>
+But now there is nothing to do or to say.
+</p>
+<p>
+Will no one grip him and tear him away,
+</p>
+<p>
+The Thing of Blood that gnaws at my breast?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Perhaps he called me and I was dumb.
+</p>
+<p>
+Unconcerned I sat and heard
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Little things,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Ivy tendrils, a bird's wings,
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+A frightened bird&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+Or faint hands at the window-pane?
+</p>
+<p>
+And now he will never come again,
+</p>
+<p>
+The little soul. He is quite lost.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I have summoned him back with incantations
+</p>
+<p>
+Of heart-deep sobs and whispering cries,
+</p>
+<p>
+Of anguished love and travail of prayer,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+Nothing has answered my despair
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+But long sighs
+</p>
+<p>
+Of pitiful wind in the fir-plantations.
+</p>
+<p>
+Poor little soul! He cannot come.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perchance on a night when trees were tost,
+</p>
+<p>
+The Changeling rode with his cavalcade
+</p>
+<p>
+Among the clouds, that were tossing too,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And made the little soul afraid.
+</p>
+<p>
+They hunted him madly, the howling crew,
+</p>
+<p>
+Into the Limbo of the lost,
+</p>
+<p>
+Into the Limbo of the others
+</p>
+<p>
+Who wander crying and calling their mothers.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+Now I know
+</p>
+<p>
+The creatures that come to harry and raid
+</p>
+<p>
+How they ride in the airy regions,
+</p>
+<p>
+Dance their rounds on meadow and moor,
+</p>
+<p>
+Gallop under the earth in legions,
+</p>
+<p>
+Hunt and holloa and run their races
+</p>
+<p>
+Over tombs in burial-places.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+In the common roads where people go,
+</p>
+<p>
+Masked and mingled with human traces,
+</p>
+<p>
+I have marked, I who know,
+</p>
+<p>
+In the common dust a devil's spoor.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+To somebody's gate
+</p>
+<p>
+A Thing is footing it, cares not much
+</p>
+<p>
+Whether he creep through an Emperor's portal
+</p>
+<p>
+And steal the fate
+</p>
+<p>
+Of a Prince, or into a poor man's hutch&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+For the grief will be everywhere as great
+</p>
+<p>
+And he'll everywhere spread the smirch of sin&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+So long as a taste of our blood he may win,
+</p>
+<p>
+So long as he may become a mortal.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+I beseech you,
+</p>
+<p>
+Prince and poor man, to watch the gate.
+</p>
+<p>
+The heart is poisoned where he has fed,
+</p>
+<p>
+The house is ruined that lets him in.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet I know I shall never teach you.
+</p>
+<p>
+With the voice of the dear and the eyes of the dead
+</p>
+<p>
+He will come to the door, and you'll let him in.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">
+If I could forget
+</p>
+<p>
+Only that ever I had a child,
+</p>
+<p>
+If only upon some mirk midnight,
+</p>
+<p>
+When he stands at the door, all wet and wild,
+</p>
+<p>
+With his owl's feather and dripping hair,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+I could lie warm and not care,
+</p>
+<p>
+I should rid myself of this Changeling yet.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+I carried my woe to the Wise Man yonder,
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;You sell forgetfulness, they say.
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+How much to pay
+</p>
+<p>
+To forget a son who is my sorrow?&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+The Wise Man began to ponder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;Charms have I, many a one,
+</p>
+<p>
+To make a woman forget her lover,
+</p>
+<p>
+A man his wife or a fortune fled,
+</p>
+<p>
+To make the day forget the morrow,
+</p>
+<p>
+The doer forget the deed he has done,
+</p>
+<p>
+But a mighty spell must I borrow
+</p>
+<p>
+To make a woman forget her son,
+</p>
+<p>
+For this I will take a royal fee.
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Your house,&#34; said he,
+</p>
+<p>
+&#34;The storied hangings richly cover,
+</p>
+<p>
+On your banquet table there were six
+</p>
+<p>
+Golden branched candlesticks,
+</p>
+<p class="i4">
+And of noble dishes you had a score.
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+The crown you wore
+</p>
+<p>
+I remember, the sparkling crown.
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+All of these,
+</p>
+<p>
+Madam, you shall pay me down.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also the day I give you ease
+</p>
+<p>
+Of golden guineas you pay a hundred.&#34;
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Laughing I left the Wise Man's door.
+</p>
+<p>
+Has he found such things where a Changeling sits?
+</p>
+<p>
+The home is darkened from roof to floor,
+</p>
+<p>
+The house is naked and ravaged and plundered
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Where a Changling sits
+</p>
+<p>
+On the hearthstone, warming his shivering fits.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+He sits at his ease, for he knows well
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+He can keep his post.
+</p>
+<p>
+He has left me nothing to pay the cost
+</p>
+<p>
+Of snatching my heart from his private Hell.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Yet when all is done and told
+</p>
+<p>
+I am glad the Wise Man in the City
+</p>
+<p class="i8">
+Had no pity
+</p>
+<p>
+For me, and for him I had no gold.
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>
+Because if I did not remember him,
+</p>
+<p>
+My little child&#8212;Ah! What should we have,
+</p>
+<p>
+He and I? Not even a grave
+</p>
+<p>
+With a name of his own by the river's brim.
+</p>
+<p>
+Because if among the poppies gay,
+</p>
+<p>
+On the hill-side, now my eyes are dim,
+</p>
+<p>
+I could not fancy a child at play,
+</p>
+<p>
+And if I should pass by the pool in the quarry
+</p>
+<p>
+And never see him, a darling ghost,
+</p>
+<p>
+Sailing a boat there, I should be sorry&#8212;
+</p>
+<p>
+If in the firelit, lone December
+</p>
+<p>
+I never heard him come scampering post
+</p>
+<p>
+Haste down the stair&#8212;if the soul that is lost
+</p>
+<p>
+Came back, and I did not remember.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr noshade size="5" width="70%" align="center">
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/001.jpg" alt="Advertisement" width="357" height="575">
+</p>
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/002.jpg" alt="Advertisement" width="357" height="570">
+</p>
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/003.jpg" alt="Advertisement" width="357" height="563">
+</p>
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/004.jpg" alt="Advertisement" width="357" height="572">
+</p>
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/005.jpg" alt="Advertisement" width="357" height="567">
+</p>
+<p class="img">
+<img src="images/006.jpg" alt="Advertisement" width="357" height="565">
+</p>
+<p class="img">
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Various
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,3597 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Cluster of Grapes
+       A Book of Twentieth Century Poetry
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2007 [EBook #21649]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CLUSTER OF GRAPES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A CLUSTER OF GRAPES
+
+
+A BOOK OF TWENTIETH CENTURY POETRY
+
+
+
+By
+
+GALLOWAY KYLE
+
+
+
+    _"Hee doth not onely shew the way, as will entice anie man to
+    enter into it: nay he doth as if your journey should lye through a
+    faire vineyard, at the verie first, give you a cluster of grapes,
+    that full of that taste, you may long to passe further."_
+
+
+
+LONDON: ERSKINE MACDONALD
+1914
+
+_The contents of this volume are copyright and may not be reproduced
+without the permission of the respective authors and publishers._
+
+
+
+
+_PREFACE_
+
+
+_If the existence and contents of this book require any explanation,
+the compiler may adopt the words of a famous defender of poetry:_
+
+    _"Hee doth not onely shew the way but giveth so sweet a prospect
+    into the way as will entice anie man into it._
+
+    _"Nay, hee doth as if your journey should lye through a faire
+    Vineyard, at the verie first give you a cluster of Grapes that
+    full of that taste you may long to passe further. He beginneth
+    not with obscure definitions, which must blurre the margent with
+    interpretations and loade the memorie with doubtfulnesse, but hee
+    cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either
+    accompanied with or prepared for the well-enchanting skill of
+    musicke, and with a tale forsoothe he cometh unto you, with a
+    tale which holdeth children from play and olde men from the
+    chimney-corner, and pretending no more, doth intend the winning
+    of the minde from wickedness to vertue."_
+
+_These excellent words of Sir Philip Sidney give the reason and scope of
+this collection of examples of the poetry of the present century. No
+attempt at arbitrary classification or labelling has been made; it is
+not intended to show that any poet, deliberately or otherwise, is a
+Neo-Symbolist or Paroxyst or is afflicted with any other 'ist or 'ism;
+it is not compiled to assert that any one group of poets is superior to
+any other group of poets or to poets who had the misfortune to have
+their corporeal existence cut short before the dawn of the twentieth
+century; it is not even intended to prove that good poetry is written in
+our time. All such purposes and particularly the latter are superfluous
+and may be left to dogmatic disputants who have little care for the
+grace and harmony of poetry._
+
+_The scheme of the Anthology is simple and without guile. It does not
+presuppose an abrupt period, but for the sake of convenience and in
+justification of its existence includes only the work of living writers
+produced during the present century and therefore most likely to be
+representative of the poetry of to-day. No editorial credit can be
+claimed for the selections; they are not the reflex of one individual's
+taste and preferences, but have been made by the writers themselves, to
+whom--and their respective publishers--for their cordial co-operation
+the collator of this distinctive volume is exceedingly grateful, not on
+his own account only but also on behalf of those readers to whom this
+volume will open out so fair a prospect that they will long to pass
+further, this "cluster of grapes" being one of the "lures immortal" for
+the rapidly increasing number of discriminating lovers of the high
+poetry that is the touchstone of beauty. The finest lyric work of our
+day needs no further introduction; the poet is his own best interpreter;
+but it may be added, in anticipation of adventitious criticism of the
+limitations of these examples, that the capacity of the present volume
+and the absence abroad of some potential contributors account for the
+non-inclusion of certain writers who otherwise would have been
+represented here._
+
+_GALLOWAY KYLE._
+
+_May_, 1914.
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                                 Page
+
+A.E.:
+  Collected Poems (Macmillan), 1913.
+
+    Reconciliation                                                  1
+    The Man to the Angel                                            2
+    Babylon                                                         3
+
+
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON:
+  Le Cahier Jaune (privately printed), 1892. Poems, 1893; Lyrics,
+  1895; Lord Vyet, and other Poems, 1897; The Professor and other
+  Poems, 1900; Peace and other Poems, 1905; Collected Poems (John
+  Lane, The Bodley Head), 1909.
+
+    Making Haste                                                    5
+    At Eventide                                                     6
+    In a College Garden                                             7
+
+
+ANNA BUNSTON (Mrs de Bary):
+  Leaves from a Woman's Manuscript, 1904 (out of print); Mingled Wine
+  (Longmans), 1909; The Porch of Paradise (Herbert & Daniel), 1911;
+  Songs of God and Man (Herbert & Daniel), 1912; Letters of a
+  Schoolma'am (Dent), 1913; Jephthah's Daughter (Erskine MacDonald),
+  1914; Mingled Wine (Cheaper re-issue, Erskine MacDonald), 1914.
+
+    A Mortgaged Inheritance                                         8
+    The Wilderness                                                  9
+    Under a Wiltshire Apple Tree                                   11
+
+
+G. K. CHESTERTON:
+  (b. 1873). Poems in Novels and the _Commonwealth_, the _New
+  Witness_, etc.; The Wild Knight and other Poems (Richards), 1900;
+  Browning, in "English Men of Letters" (Macmillan), 1903; Ballad of
+  the White Horse (Methuen), 1911.
+
+    Sonnet with the Compliments of the Season                      13
+    When I came back to Fleet Street                               14
+    The Truce of Christmas                                         17
+
+
+FRANCES CORNFORD:
+  Poems (Bowes & Bowes, Cambridge), 1910. Death and the Princess, a
+  Morality (Bowes & Bowes), 1913.
+
+    The Princess and the Gypsies                                   19
+    The Dandelion                                                  22
+    Social Intercourse                                             23
+
+
+WALTER DE LA MARE:
+  (b. 1873). Songs of Childhood (Longmans), 1902; Henry Brocken
+  (Murray), 1904; Poems, 1906: The Three Mulla Malgars (Duckworth);
+  The Return (Arnold), 1910; The Listeners and other Poems
+  (Constable), 1911; Peacock Pie (Constable), 1913.
+
+    An Epitaph                                                     24
+    Arabia                                                         25
+    Nod                                                            26
+
+
+JOHN GALSWORTHY:
+  (b. 1867). Novels, Studies, and Verse; Villa Rubein, 1901; The
+  Island Pharisees, 1904; The Man of Property, 1906; The Country
+  House, 1907; A Commentary, 1908; Fraternity, 1909; A Motley, 1910;
+  The Patrician, 1911; The Inn of Tranquillity; and Moods, Songs and
+  Doggerels, 1913; The Dark Flower (Heinemann), 1913; Plays: Vol. I,
+  The Silver Box; Joy; Strife, 1909. Vol. II, Justice; The Little
+  Dream; The Eldest Son, 1912. Vol. III, The Fugitive; The Pigeon;
+  The Mob, 1914.
+
+    The Downs                                                      27
+    The Prayer                                                     27
+    Devon to Me                                                    28
+
+
+EVA GORE-BOOTH:
+  Poems (Longmans, Green & Co.), 1898; Unseen Kings (Longmans), 1904;
+  The One and the Many (Longmans), 1904; The Three Resurrections and
+  the Triumph of Maeve (Longmans), 1905; The Sorrowful Princess
+  (Longmans), 1907; The Egyptian Pillar (Maunsel & Co., Dublin), 1907;
+  The Agate Lamp (Longmans), 1912.
+
+    Maeve of the Battles                                           29
+    Re-Incarnation                                                 31
+    Leonardo Da Vinci                                              34
+
+
+JOHN GURDON:
+  Erinna, a Tragedy (Edward Arnold), 1913; Dramatic Lyrics (Elkin
+  Matthews), 1906; Enchantments (Erskine Macdonald), 1912.
+
+    Surrender                                                      36
+    Before the Fates                                               38
+
+
+THOMAS HARDY:
+  (b. 1840). Wessex Poems, 1898; Poems of the Past and Present, 1901;
+  The Dynasts; An Epic Drama, Part I, 1903-4; Part II, 1906; Part III,
+  1908; Time's Laughing Stocks and other Verses (Macmillan), 1910.
+
+    A Trampwoman's Tragedy                                         42
+    Chorus from "The Dynasts" (Part III)                           47
+    The Ballad Singer                                              49
+
+
+RALPH HODGSON:
+  Contributions to the _Saturday Review_; Flying Fame Chap Books.
+
+    The Moor                                                       50
+    Time, You Old Gipsy Man                                        51
+    Ghoul Care                                                     53
+
+
+W. G. HOLE:
+  Procris and other Poems (Paul); Amoris Imago (Paul); Poems, Lyrical
+  and Dramatic (Matthews), 1902; Queen Elizabeth, An Historical Drama
+  (Geo. Bell & Sons), 1904; New Poems (Geo. Bell & Sons), 1907; The
+  Chained Titan (Geo. Bell & Sons,) 1910; The Master: A Poetical Play
+  in Two Acts (Erskine Macdonald), 1913.
+
+    Roosevelt-Village Street                                       54
+    The Haunted Fields                                             58
+    Captive in London Town                                         60
+
+
+LAURENCE HOUSMAN:
+  (b. 1867). Mendicant Rimes; Selected Poems (Sidgwick & Jackson).
+
+    The Fellow-Travellers                                          61
+    The Settlers                                                   62
+    Song                                                           63
+
+
+EMILIA S. LORIMER:
+  Songs of Alban (Constable), 1912.
+
+    Love Songs                                                     64
+    Storm                                                          65
+
+
+JAMES A. MACKERETH:
+  In Grasmere Vale and other Poems, 1907; The Cry on the Mountain,
+  1908; When We Dreamers Wake, a Drama for To-day (Nutt), 1909; A
+  Son of Cain and other Poems (Longmans), 1910; In the Wake of the
+  Phoenix (Longmans), 1911; On the Face of a Star (Longmans), 1913.
+
+    To a Blackbird on New Year's Day                               66
+    La Danseuse                                                    68
+    God Returns                                                    70
+
+
+ALICE MEYNELL:
+  Poems (Collected Edition), 1913. Essays (selected from The Rhythm of
+  Life, etc.) (Burns & Oates), 1914.
+
+    To the Body                                                    72
+    Christ in the Universe                                         73
+    Maternity                                                      74
+
+
+WILL H. OGILVIE:
+  The Overlander; The Land we Love; Whaup o' the Rede (Thomas Fraser,
+  Dalbeattie); Rainbows and Witches (Elkin Matthews); Fair Girls and
+  Grey Horses; Hearts of Gold (Angus & Robertson, Australia).
+
+    There's a Clean Wind Blowing                                   75
+    The Garden of the Night                                        76
+    The Crossing Swords                                            79
+
+
+STEPHEN PHILLIPS:
+  Eremus (Paul), 1894; Christ in Hades (Matthews), 1896; Poems, 1897;
+  Paolo and Francesca, 1899; Marpessa, 1900; Herod, 1900; Ulysses,
+  1902; Nero, 1906; The New Inferno, 1910; New Poems, Lyrics and
+  Dramas (John Lane), 1913.
+
+    Lures Immortal                                                 80
+    Beautiful lie the Dead                                         82
+    Lyric from "The Sin of David"                                  83
+
+
+EDEN PHILLPOTTS:
+  Many novels: Dance of the Months; Sketches of Dartmoor and Poems
+  (Gowans & Gray), 1911; The Iscariot, a Poem (Murray), 1912; Up-Along
+  and Down-Along (Methuen), 1905; Wild Fruit (John Lane), 1911.
+
+    A Devon Courting                                               84
+    A Litany to Pan                                                85
+    Swinburne                                                      87
+
+
+DORA SIGERSON SHORTER:
+  Verses, 1894; The Fairy Changeling, and other Poems, 1897; My Lady's
+  Slipper and other Poems, 1898; Ballads and Poems, 1899; The Father
+  Confessor, 1900; The Woman who went to Hell, 1902; As the Sparks fly
+  Upward, 1904; The Story and Song of Earl Roderick, 1906; Collected
+  Poems, 1909; The Troubadour, 1910; New Poems, 1912; Madge Linsey and
+  other Poems (Maunsel, Dublin), 1913.
+
+    The Watcher in the Wood                                        88
+    The Nameless One                                               89
+    When I shall Rise                                              91
+
+
+ARTHUR SYMONS:
+  Images of Good and Evil, 1900; Poems, 1901; The Fool of the World
+  and other Poems, 1906; The Knave of Hearts (Heinemann), 1913; Cities
+  of Italy, 1908; The Romantic Movement in English Poetry, 1909.
+
+    Tanagra                                                        92
+    Giovanni Malatesta at Rimini                                   93
+    La Melinite: Moulin Rouge                                      95
+
+
+EVELYN UNDERHILL:
+  Immanence, A Book of Verses (J. M. Dent & Sons), 1912; Mysticism;
+  The Mystic Way.
+
+    Immanence                                                      97
+    Introversion                                                   99
+    Ichthus                                                       100
+
+
+MARGARET L. WOODS:
+  Poems, Collected Edition (John Lane), 1913.
+
+    Songs                                                         102
+    The Changeling                                                103
+
+
+
+
+AE
+
+
+RECONCILIATION
+
+I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord;
+  I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest
+Of the earth, of the mother, my heart with her heart in accord,
+  As I lie mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast
+I begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.
+
+By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the King
+  For a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far,
+And His infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bring
+  Me in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star.
+On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.
+
+
+
+THE MAN TO THE ANGEL
+
+I have wept a million tears:
+  Pure and proud one, where are thine,
+What the gain though all thy years
+  In unbroken beauty shine?
+
+All your beauty cannot win
+  Truth we learn in pain and sighs:
+You can never enter in
+  To the circle of the wise.
+
+They are but the slaves of light
+  Who have never known the gloom,
+And between the dark and bright
+  Willed in freedom their own doom.
+
+Think not in your pureness there,
+  That our pain but follows sin:
+There are fires for those who dare
+  Seek the throne of might to win.
+
+Pure one, from your pride refrain:
+  Dark and lost amid the strife
+I am myriad years of pain
+  Nearer to the fount of life.
+
+When defiance fierce is thrown
+  At the god to whom you bow,
+Rest the lips of the Unknown
+  Tenderest upon my brow.
+
+
+
+BABYLON
+
+The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within my mind,
+It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind.
+To-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run
+Through thrice a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient Babylon.
+On temple top and palace roof the burnished gold flung back the rays
+Of a red sunset that was dead and lost beyond a million days.
+The tower of heaven turns darker blue, a starry sparkle now begins;
+The mystery and magnificence, the myriad beauty and the sins
+Come back to me. I walk beneath the shadowy multitude of towers;
+Within the gloom the fountain jets its pallid mist in lily flowers.
+The waters lull me and the scent of many gardens, and I hear
+Familiar voices, and the voice I love is whispering in my ear.
+Oh real as in dream all this; and then a hand on mine is laid:
+The wave of phantom time withdraws; and that young Babylonian maid,
+One drop of beauty left behind from all the flowing of that tide,
+Is looking with the self-same eyes, and here in Ireland by my side.
+Oh light our life in Babylon, but Babylon has taken wings,
+While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things.
+
+
+
+
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
+
+
+MAKING HASTE
+
+"Soon!" says the Snowdrop, and smiles at the motherly earth,
+  "Soon!--for the Spring with her languors comes stealthily on
+Snow was my cradle, and chill winds sang at my birth;
+  Winter is over--and I must make haste to be gone!"
+
+"Soon," says the Swallow, and dips to the wind-ruffled stream,
+  "Grain is all garnered--the Summer is over and done;
+Bleak to the eastward the icy battalions gleam,
+  Summer is over--and I must make haste to be gone!"
+
+"Soon--ah, too soon!" says the Soul, with a pitiful gaze,
+  "Soon!--for I rose like a star, and for aye would have shone!
+See the pale shuddering dawn, that must wither my rays,
+  Leaps from the mountains--and I must make haste to be gone!"
+
+
+
+AT EVENTIDE
+
+At morn I saw the level plain
+  So rich and small beneath my feet,
+A sapphire sea without a stain,
+  And fields of golden-waving wheat;
+Lingering I said, "At noon I'll be
+  At peace by that sweet-scented tide.
+How far, how fair my course shall be,
+  Before I come to the Eventide!"
+
+Where is it fled, that radiant plain?
+  I stumble now in miry ways;
+Dark clouds drift landward, big with rain,
+  And lonely moors their summits raise.
+On, on with hurrying feet I range,
+  And left and right in the dumb hillside
+Grey gorges open, drear and strange,
+  And so I come to the Eventide!
+
+
+
+IN A COLLEGE GARDEN
+
+Birds, that cry so loud in the old, green bowery garden,
+Your song is of _Love! Love! Love!_
+  Will ye weary not nor cease?
+For the loveless soul grows sick, the heart that the grey days harden;
+  I know too well that ye love! I would ye should hold your peace.
+
+I too have seen Love rise, like a star; I have marked his setting;
+  I dreamed in my folly and pride that Life without Love were peace.
+But if Love should await me yet, in the land of sleep and forgetting--
+  Ah, bird, could you sing me this, I would not your song should cease!
+
+
+
+
+ANNA BUNSTON (Mrs de BARY)
+
+
+A MORTGAGED INHERITANCE
+
+I knew a land whose streams did wind
+More winningly than these,
+Where finer shadows played behind
+The clean-stemmed beechen trees.
+The maidens there were deeper eyed,
+The lads more swift and fair,
+And angels walked at each one's side--
+Would God that I were there!
+
+Here daffodils are dressed in gold,
+But there they wore the sun,
+And here the blooms are bought and sold,
+But there God gave each one.
+There all roads led to fairyland
+That here do lead to care,
+And stars were lamps on Heaven's strand--
+Would God, that I were there!
+
+Here worship crawls upon her course
+That there with larks would cope,
+And here her voice with doubt is hoarse
+That there was sweet with hope.
+O land of Peace! my spirit dies
+For thy once tasted air,
+O earliest loss! O latest prize!
+Would God that I were there!
+
+
+
+THE WILDERNESS
+
+From Life's enchantments,
+Desire of place,
+From lust of getting
+Turn thou away, and set thy face
+Toward the wilderness.
+
+The tents of Jacob
+As valleys spread,
+As goodly cedars,
+Or fair lign aloes, white and red,
+Shall share thy wilderness.
+
+With awful judgments,
+The law, the rod,
+With soft allurements
+And comfortable words, will God
+Pass o'er the wilderness.
+
+The bitter waters
+Are healed and sweet,
+The ample heavens
+Pour angel's bread about thy feet
+Throughout the wilderness.
+
+And Carmel's glory
+Thou thoughtest gone,
+And Sharon's roses,
+The excellency of Lebanon
+Delight thy wilderness.
+
+Who passeth Jordan
+Perfumed with myrrh,
+With myrrh and incense?
+Lo! on his arm Love leadeth her
+Who trod the wilderness.
+
+
+
+UNDER A WILTSHIRE APPLE TREE
+
+Some folks as can afford,
+So I've heard say,
+Sets up a sort of cross
+Right in the garden way
+To mind 'em of the Lord.
+
+But I, when I do see
+Thic apple tree
+An' stoopin' limb
+All spread wi' moss,
+I think of Him
+And how he talks wi' me.
+
+I think of God
+And how he trod
+That garden long ago:
+He walked, I reckon, to and fro
+And then sat down
+Upon the groun'
+Or some low limb
+What suited Him
+Same as you see
+On many a tree,
+And on this very one
+Where I at set o' sun
+Do sit and talk wi' He.
+
+An' mornings, too, I rise an' come
+An' sit down where the branch be low;
+A bird do sing, a bee do hum,
+The flowers in the border blow,
+An' all my heart's so glad an' clear
+As pools be when the sun do peer:
+As pools a laughin' in the light
+When mornin' air is swep' an' bright,
+As pools what got all Heaven in sight
+So's my heart's cheer
+When He be near.
+
+He never pushed the garden door,
+He left no footmark on the floor;
+I never heard 'Un stir nor tread
+An' yet His Hand do bless my head,
+And when 'tis time for work to start
+I takes Him with me in my heart.
+
+And when I die, pray God I see
+At very last thic apple tree
+An' stoopin' limb,
+An' think o' Him
+And all He been to me.
+
+
+
+
+G. K. CHESTERTON
+
+
+SONNET WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON
+
+(To a popular leader, to be congratulated on the avoidance of a strike
+at Christmas.)
+
+I know you. You will hail the huge release,
+  Saying the sheathing of a thousand swords,
+  In silence and injustice, well accords
+With Christmas bells. And you will gild with grease
+The papers, the employers, the police,
+  And vomit up the void your windy words
+  To your new Christ; who bears no whip of cords
+For them that traffic in the doves of peace.
+
+The feast of friends, the candle-fruited tree,
+  I have not failed to honour. And I say
+It would be better for such men as we
+  And we be nearer Bethlehem, if we lay
+Shot dead on snows scarlet for Liberty,
+  Dead in the daylight; upon Christmas Day.
+
+
+
+WHEN I CAME BACK TO FLEET STREET
+
+When I came back to Fleet Street,
+  Through a sunset-nook at night,
+And saw the old Green Dragon
+  With the windows all alight,
+And hailed the old Green Dragon
+  And the Cock I used to know,
+Where all the good fellows were my friends
+  A little while ago.
+
+I had been long in meadows,
+  And the trees took hold of me,
+And the still towns in the beech-woods,
+  Where men were meant to be;
+But old things held; the laughter,
+  The long unnatural night,
+And all the truth the talk in hell,
+  And all the lies they write.
+
+For I came back to Fleet Street,
+  And not in peace I came;
+A cloven pride was in my heart,
+  And half my love was shame.
+I came to fight in fairy tale,
+  Whose end shall no man know--
+To fight the old Green Dragon
+  Until the Cock shall crow!
+
+Under the broad bright windows
+  Of men I serve no more,
+The groaning of the old great wheels
+  Thickened to a throttled roar;
+All buried things broke upwards;
+  And peered from its retreat,
+Ugly and silent, like an elf,
+  The secret of the street.
+
+They did not break the padlocks,
+  Or clear the wall away.
+The men in debt that drank of old
+  Still drink in debt to-day;
+Chained to the rich by ruin,
+  Cheerful in chains, as then
+When old unbroken Pickwick walked
+  Among the broken men.
+
+Still he that dreams and rambles
+  Through his own elfin air,
+Knows that the street's a prison,
+  Knows that the gates are there:
+Still he that scorns or struggles,
+  Sees frightful and afar
+All that they leave of rebels
+  Rot high on Temple Bar.
+
+All that I loved and hated,
+  All that I shunned and knew,
+Clears in broad battle lightening;
+  Where they, and I, and you,
+Run high the barricade that breaks
+  The barriers of the Street,
+And shout to them that shrink within,
+  The Prisoners of the Fleet!
+
+
+
+THE TRUCE OF CHRISTMAS
+
+Passionate peace is in the sky
+And on the snow in silver sealed
+The beasts are perfect in the field
+And men seem men so suddenly
+  But take ten swords, and ten times ten,
+  And blow the bugle in praising men
+  For we are for all men under the sun
+  And they are against us every one
+  And misers haggle, and mad men clutch
+  And there is peril in praising much
+  And we have the terrible tongues un-curled
+  That praise the world to the sons of the world.
+
+The idle humble hill and wood
+Are bowed about the sacred Birth
+And for one little while the earth
+Is lazy with the love of good
+  But ready are you and ready am I
+  If the battle blow and the guns go by
+  For we are for all men under the sun
+  And they are against us every one
+  For the men that hate herd altogether
+  To pride and gold and the great white feather
+  And the thing is graven in star and stone
+    That the men that love are all alone.
+
+Hunger is hard and time is tough
+But bless the beggars and kiss the kings
+For hope has broken the heart of things
+And nothing was ever praised enough
+  But hold the shield for a sudden swing
+  And point the sword in praising a thing
+  For we are for all men under the sun
+  And they are against us every one
+  And mime and merchant, thane and thrall,
+  Hate us because we love them all
+  Only till Christmas time goes by
+  Passionate peace is in the sky.
+
+
+
+
+FRANCES CORNFORD
+
+
+THE PRINCESS AND THE GIPSIES
+
+As I looked out one May morning,
+  I saw the tree-tops green;
+I said: "My crown I will lay down
+  And live no more a queen."
+
+Then I tripped down my golden steps
+  All in my silken gown,
+And when I stood in the open wood,
+  I met some gipsies brown.
+
+"O gentle, gentle gipsies,
+  That roam the wide world through,
+Because I hate my crown and state
+  O let me come with you.
+
+"My councillors are old and grey,
+  And sit in narrow chairs;
+But you can hear the birds sing clear,
+  And your hearts are as light as theirs."
+
+"If you would come along with us,
+  Then you must count the cost;
+For though in Spring the sweet birds sing,
+  In Winter comes the frost.
+
+"Your ladies serve you all the day
+  With courtesy and care;
+Your fine-shod feet they tread so neat,
+  But a gipsy's feet go bare.
+
+"You wash in water running warm
+  Through basins all of gold;
+The streams where we roam have silvery foam,
+  But the streams, the streams are cold.
+
+"And barley-bread is bitter to taste,
+  While sugary cakes they please--
+Which will you choose, O which will you choose,
+  Which will you choose of these?
+
+"For if you choose the mountain streams
+  And barley-bread to eat,
+Your heart will be free as the birds in the tree,
+  But the stones will cut your feet.
+
+"The mud will spoil your silken gown,
+  And stain your insteps high;
+The dogs in the farm will wish you harm
+  And bark as you go by.
+
+"And though your heart grow deep and gay,
+  And your heart grow wise and rich,
+The cold will make your bones to ache
+  And you will die in a ditch."
+
+"O gentle, gentle gipsies,
+  That roam the wide world through,
+Although I praise your wandering ways,
+  I dare not come with you."
+
+I hung about their fingers brown
+  My ruby rings and chain,
+And with my head as heavy as lead,
+  I turned me back again.
+
+As I went up the palace steps,
+  I heard the gipsies laugh;
+The birds of Spring so sweet did sing;
+  My heart it broke in half.
+
+
+
+THE DANDELION
+
+The dandelion is brave and gay,
+And loves to grow beside the way;
+A braver thing was never seen
+To praise the grass for growing green;
+    You never saw a gayer thing,
+    To sit and smile and praise the Spring.
+
+The children with their simple hearts,
+The lazy men that come in carts,
+The little dogs that lollop by,
+They all have seen its shining eye:
+    And every one of them would say,
+    They never saw a thing so gay.
+
+
+
+SOCIAL INTERCOURSE
+
+Like to islands in the seas,
+Stand our personalities--
+Islands where we always face
+One another's watering-place.
+When we promenade our sands
+We can hear each other's bands,
+We can see on festal nights
+Red and green and purple lights,
+Gilt pavilions in a row,
+Stucco houses built for show.
+
+But our eyes can never reach
+Further than the tawdry beach,
+Never can they hope to win
+To the wonders far within:
+Jagged rocks against the sky
+Where the eagles haunt and cry,
+Forests full of running rills,
+Darkest forests, sunny hills,
+Hollows where a dragon lowers,
+Sweet and unimagined flowers.
+
+
+
+
+WALTER DE LA MARE
+
+
+AN EPITAPH
+
+Here lies a most beautiful lady,
+  Light of step and heart was she:
+I think she was the most beautiful lady
+  That ever was in the West Country.
+But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;
+  However rare--rare it be;
+And when I crumble who will remember
+  This lady of the West Country?
+
+
+
+ARABIA
+
+Far are the shades of Arabia,
+Where the princes ride at noon,
+'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets
+Under the ghost of the moon;
+And so dark is that vaulted purple,
+Flowers in the forest rise
+And toss into blossom 'gainst the phantom stars,
+Pale in the noonday skies.
+
+Sweet is the music of Arabia
+In my heart, when out of dreams
+I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn
+Descry her gliding streams;
+Hear her strange lutes on the green banks
+Ring loud with the grief and delight
+Of the dim-silked, dark-haired musicians,
+In the brooding silence of night.
+
+They haunt me--her lutes and her forests;
+No beauty on earth I see
+But shadowed with that dream recalls
+Her loveliness to me:
+Still eyes look coldly upon me,
+Cold voices whisper and say--
+"He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia,
+They have stolen his wits away."
+
+
+
+NOD
+
+Softly along the road of evening,
+In a twilight dim with rose,
+Wrinkled with age and drenched with dew,
+Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.
+
+His drowsy flock streams on before him,
+Their fleeces charged with gold,
+To where the sun's last beam leans low
+On Nod the shepherd's fold.
+
+The hedge is quick and green with briar,
+From their sand the conies creep;
+And all the birds that fly in heaven
+Flock singing home to sleep.
+
+His lambs outnumber a noon's roses
+Yet, when night's shadows fall,
+His blind old sheep dog, Slumber-soon,
+Misses not one of all.
+
+His are the quiet steeps of dreamland,
+The waters of no more pain,
+His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars,
+"Rest, rest, and rest again."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GALSWORTHY
+
+
+THE DOWNS.
+
+Oh! the downs high to the cool sky;
+  And the feel of the sun-warmed moss;
+And each cardoon, like a full moon,
+  Fairy-spun of the thistle floss;
+And the beech grove, and a wood dove,
+  And the trail where the shepherds pass;
+And the lark's song, and the wind-song,
+  And the scent of the parching grass!
+
+
+
+THE PRAYER.
+
+If on a Spring night I went by
+And God were standing there,
+What is the prayer that I would cry
+  To Him? This is the prayer:
+    O Lord of Courage grave,
+    O Master of this night of Spring!
+    Make firm in me a heart too brave
+    To ask Thee anything!
+
+
+
+DEVON TO ME.
+
+Where my fathers stood, watching the sea,
+Gale-spent herring boats hugging the lea;
+There my Mother lives, moorland and tree.
+Sight o' the blossoms! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers walked, driving the plough;
+Whistled their hearts out--who whistles now?--
+There my Mother burns fire faggots free.
+Scent o' the wood-smoke! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers sat, passing their bowls;
+--They've no cider now, God rest their souls!
+There my Mother feeds red cattle three.
+Sup o' the cream-pan! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers sleep, turning to dust,
+This old body throw when die I must!
+There my Mother calls, wakeful is she!
+Sound o' the West-wind! Devon to me!
+
+Where my fathers lie, when I am gone,
+Who need pity me, dead? Never one!
+There my Mother clasps me. Let me be!
+Feel o' the red earth! Devon to me!
+
+
+
+
+EVA GORE-BOOTH
+
+
+MAEVE OF THE BATTLES
+
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill,
+  And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed,
+And my soul is blown about by the wild wind of her will,
+  For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead--
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+
+I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace--
+  A dream of light on the mountains, and calm on the restless sea;
+A dream of the gentle days of the world when battle shall cease
+  And the things that are in hatred and wrath no longer shall be.
+I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace.
+
+The foamless waves are falling soft on the sands of Lissadil
+  And the world is wrapped in quiet and a floating dream of grey;
+But the wild winds of the twilight blow straight from the haunted hill
+  And the stars come out of the darkness and shine over Knocknarea--
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+
+There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve;
+  No rest for the heart once caught in the net of her yellow hair--
+No quiet for the fallen wind, no peace for the broken wave;
+  Rising and falling, falling and rising with soft sounds everywhere,
+There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve.
+
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill
+  And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed;
+And my soul is blown about by the wild winds of her will,
+  For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead--
+I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
+
+
+
+RE-INCARNATION
+
+The darkness draws me, kindly angels weep
+  Forlorn beyond receding rings of light,
+The torrents of the earth's desires sweep
+  My soul through twilight downward into night.
+
+Once more the light grows dim, the vision fades,
+  Myself seems to myself a distant goal,
+I grope among the bodies' drowsy shades,
+  Once more the Old Illusion rocks my soul.
+
+Once more the Manifold in shadowy streams
+  Of falling waters murmurs in my ears,
+The One Voice drowns amid the roar of dreams
+  That crowd the narrow pathway of the years.
+
+I go to seek the starshine on the waves,
+  To count the dewdrops on the grassy hill,
+I go to gather flowers that grow on graves,
+  The worlds' wall closes round my prisoned will.
+
+Yea, for the sake of the wild western wind
+  The sphered spirit scorns her flame-built throne,
+Because of primroses, time out of mind,
+  The Lonely turns away from the Alone.
+
+Who once has loved the cornfield's rustling sheaves,
+  Who once has heard the gentle Irish rain
+Murmur low music in the growing leaves,
+  Though he were god, comes back to earth again.
+
+Oh Earth! green wind-swept Eirinn, I would break
+  The tower of my soul's initiate pride
+For a grey field and a star-haunted lake,
+  And those wet winds that roam the country side.
+
+I who have seen am glad to close my eyes,
+  I who have soared am weary of my wings,
+I seek no more the secret of the wise,
+  Safe among shadowy, unreal human things.
+
+Blind to the gleam of those wild violet rays
+  That burn beyond the rainbow's circle dim,
+Bound by dark nights and driven by pale days,
+  The sightless slave of Time's imperious whim;
+
+Deaf to the flowing tide of dreams divine
+  That surge outside the closed gates of birth,
+The rhythms of eternity, too fine
+  To touch with music the dull ears of earth--
+
+I go to seek with humble care and toil
+  The dreams I left undreamed, the deeds undone,
+To sow the seed and break the stubborn soil,
+  Knowing no brightness whiter than the sun.
+
+Content in winter if the fire burns clear
+  And cottage walls keep out the creeping damp,
+Hugging the Old Illusion warm and dear,
+  The Silence and the Wise Book and the Lamp.
+
+
+
+LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+He in his deepest mind
+That inner harmony divined
+That lit the soul of John
+And in the glad eyes shone
+Of Dionysos, and dwelt
+Where Angel Gabriel knelt
+Under the dark cypress spires;
+And thrilled with flameless fires
+Of Secret Wisdom's rays
+The Giaconda's smiling gaze;
+Curving with delicate care
+The pearls in Beatrice d'Este's hair;
+Hiding behind the veil
+Of eyelids long and pale,
+In the strange gentle vision dim
+Of the unknown Christ who smiled on him.
+His was no vain dream
+Of the things that seem,
+Of date and name.
+He overcame
+The Outer False with the Inner True,
+And overthrew
+The empty show and thin deceits of sex,
+Pale nightmares of this barren world that vex
+The soul of man, shaken by every breeze
+Too faint to stir the silver olive trees
+Or lift the Dryad's smallest straying tress
+Frozen in her clear marble loveliness.
+
+He, in curved lips and smiling eyes,
+Hid the last secret's faint surprise
+Of one who dies in fear and pain
+And lives and knows herself again.
+He, in his dreaming under the sun,
+Saw change and the unchanging One,
+And built in grottoes blue a shrine
+To hold Reality Divine.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GURDON
+
+
+SURRENDER
+
+Like the diamond spark of the morning star
+  When night grows pale
+Love gleams in the depths of thine eyes afar
+  Through the rifted veil
+    Of thy cloudy dreams.
+
+I saw in the glint of thy wavy hair
+  His splendour shine
+A moment, and now thy cheeks declare
+  The fire divine
+    In their rosy streams.
+
+It leaps from thy face to mine, and flushes
+  From brow to chin.
+The hot blood sings in my ears and gushes
+  With surge and spin
+    Through my tingling veins.
+
+I lift up my heart for thy fervent lips
+  To kiss, my sweet.
+I would lift up my soul, but she swooning slips
+  Down at thy feet,
+    And the rainbow stains.
+
+Brighten and cloud on her wings that close
+  And open slow,
+As a butterfly's move, on the breast of a rose
+  Rocked to and fro
+    By a crooning wind.
+
+O star! O blossom! I faint for bliss.
+  I faint for thee;
+For the kiss on my closed eyes, thy kiss
+  In ecstasy
+    That leaves me blind.
+
+Me has love molten for thee to mould.
+  Ah, shape me fair
+As the crown of thy life, as a crown of gold
+  In thy flame-like hair
+    Worn for a sign!
+
+Nay, rather my life be a wind-flower
+  Slow kissed to death,
+Petal by petal, on lips that stir
+  With love's own breath.
+    Dear life, take mine!
+
+
+
+BEFORE THE FATES
+
+I cannot sing,
+  So weary of life my heart is and so sore
+Afraid. What harp-playing
+  Back from the land whose name is Never More
+My lost desire will bring?
+
+        *    *    *    *    *
+
+These words she said
+  Before the Pheidian Fates. "There comes an end
+Of love, and mine is fled:
+  But, if you let me, I will be your friend,
+A better friend, instead."
+
+Was it her own,
+  The voice I heard, marmoreal, strange, remote,
+As though from yonder throne
+  Clotho had spoken, and the headless throat
+Had uttered words of stone?
+
+I sought her face;
+  It was a mask inscrutable, a screen
+Baffling all hope to trace
+  The woman whose passionate loveliness had been
+Mine for a little space.
+
+Thereat I rose,
+  Smiling, and said--"The dream is past and gone.
+Surely Love comes and goes
+  Even as he will. And who shall thwart him? None.
+Only, while water flows
+
+And night and day
+  Chase one another round the rolling sphere,
+Henceforth our destined way
+  Divides. Fare onward, then, and leave me, dear.
+There is no more to say."
+
+        *    *    *    *    *
+
+Harsh songs and sweet
+  Come to me still, but as a tale twice told.
+The throb, the quivering beat
+  Harry my blood no longer as of old,
+Nor stir my wayworn feet.
+
+Yet for a threne
+  Once more I wear the purple robe and make
+Sad music and serene
+  For pity's sake, ah me, and the old time's sake,
+And all that might have been.
+
+For Love lies dead.
+  Love, the immortal, the victorious,
+Is fallen and vanquished.
+  What charm can raise, what incantation rouse
+That lowly, piteous head?
+
+Why should I weep
+  My triumph? 'Twas my life or his. Behold
+The wound, how wide and deep
+  Which in my side the arrow tipped with gold
+Smote as I lay asleep!
+
+Across thy way
+  I came not, Love, nor ever sought thy face;
+But me, who dreaming lay
+  Peaceful within my quiet lurking-place,
+Thy shaft was sped to slay.
+
+When hadst thou ruth,
+  That I should sorrow o'er thee and forgive?
+Why should I grieve, forsooth?
+  Art thou not dead for ever, and I live?
+And yet--and yet, in truth
+
+Almost I would
+  That I had perished, and beside my bier
+Thou and thy mother stood,
+  And from relenting eyes let fall a tear
+Upon me, and my blood
+
+Changed to a flower
+  Imperishable, a hyacinthine bloom,
+In memory of an hour
+  Splendidly lived between Delight and Doom
+Once when I wandered from my ivory tower.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS HARDY
+
+
+A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY (182-)
+
+I
+
+From Wynyard's Gap the livelong day,
+        The livelong day,
+We beat afoot the northward way
+    We had travelled times before.
+The sun-blaze burning on our backs,
+Our shoulders sticking to our packs,
+By fosseway, fields, and turnpike tracks
+    We skirted sad Sedge Moor.
+
+II
+
+Full twenty miles we jaunted on,
+        We jaunted on--
+My fancy-man, and jeering John,
+    And Mother Lee, and I.
+And, as the sun drew down to west,
+We climbed the toilsome Poldon crest,
+And saw, of landskip sights the best,
+    The inn that beamed thereby.
+
+III
+
+For months we had padded side by side,
+        Ay, side by side
+Through the Great Forest, Blackmoor wide,
+  And where the Parret ran.
+We'd faced the gusts on Mendip ridge,
+Had crossed the Yeo unhelped by bridge,
+Been stung by every Marshwood midge,
+    I and my fancy man.
+
+IV
+
+Lone inns we loved, my man and I,
+          My man and I;
+"King's Stag," "Windwhistle" high and dry,
+  "The Horse" on Hintock Green,
+The cosy house at Wynyard's Gap,
+"The Hut" renowned on Bredy Knap,
+And many another wayside tap
+    Where folk might sit unseen.
+
+V
+
+Now as we trudged--O deadly day,
+        O deadly day!--
+I teased my fancy-man in play
+    And wanton idleness.
+I walked alongside jeering John,
+I laid his hand my waist upon;
+I would not bend my glances on
+    My lover's dark distress.
+
+VI
+
+Thus Poldon top at last we won,
+        At last we won,
+And gained the inn at sink of sun
+    Far famed as "Marshall's Elm."
+Beneath us figured tor and lea,
+From Mendip to the western sea--
+I doubt if finer sight there be
+    Within this royal realm.
+
+VII
+
+Inside the settle all a-row--
+        All four a-row
+We sat, I next to John, to show
+    That he had wooed and won.
+And then he took me on his knee,
+And swore it was his turn to be
+My favoured mate, and Mother Lee
+    Passed to my former one.
+
+VIII
+
+Then in a voice I had never heard,
+        I had never heard,
+My only Love to me: "One word,
+    My lady, if you please!
+Whose is the child you are like to bear?--
+_His?_ After all my months of care?"
+God knows 'twas not! But, O despair!
+    I nodded--still to tease.
+
+IX
+
+Then up he sprung, and with his knife--
+        And with his knife
+He let out jeering Johnny's life,
+    Yes; there, at set of sun.
+The slant ray through the window nigh
+Gilded John's blood and glazing eye,
+Ere scarcely Mother Lee and I
+    Knew that the deed was done.
+
+X
+
+The taverns tell the gloomy tale,
+        The gloomy tale,
+How that at Ivel-chester jail
+    My Love, my sweetheart swung;
+Though stained till now by no misdeed
+Save one horse ta'en in time o' need;
+(Blue Jimmy stole right many a steed
+    Ere his last fling he flung.)
+
+XI
+
+Thereaft I walked the world alone,
+        Alone, alone!
+On his death-day I gave my groan
+    And dropped his dead-born child.
+'Twas nigh the jail, beneath a tree,
+None tending me; for Mother Lee
+Had died at Glaston, leaving me
+    Unfriended on the wild.
+
+XII
+
+And in the night as I lay weak,
+        As I lay weak,
+The leaves a-falling on my cheek,
+    The red moon low declined--
+The ghost of him I'd die to kiss
+Rose up and said: "Ah, tell me this!
+Was the child mine, or was it his?
+    Speak, that I rest may find!"
+
+XIII
+
+O doubt not but I told him then,
+        I told him then,
+That I had kept me from all men
+    Since we joined lips and swore.
+Whereat he smiled, and thinned away
+As the wind stirred to call up day ...
+--'Tis past! And here alone I stray
+    Haunting the Western Moor.
+
+1902.
+
+
+
+CHORUS FROM "THE DYNASTS"
+
+(Part III).
+
+      Last as first the question rings
+      Of the Will's long travailings;
+      Why the All-mover,
+      Why the All-prover
+Ever urges on and measures out the droning tune of Things.
+
+      Heaving dumbly
+      As we deem,
+      Moulding numbly
+      As in dream,
+Apprehending not how fare the sentient subjects of Its scheme.
+
+    Nay;--shall not Its blindness break?
+    Yea, must not Its heart awake,
+      Promptly tending
+      To Its mending
+In a genial germing purpose, and for loving-kindness' sake?
+
+      Should It never
+      Curb or cure
+      Aught whatever
+      Those endure
+Whom It quickens, let them darkle to extinction swift and sure.
+
+    But a stirring thrills the air,
+    Like to sounds of joyance there
+        That the rages
+        Of the ages
+Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered from the darts that were,
+Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair!
+
+1907.
+
+
+
+THE BALLAD SINGER
+
+Sing, Ballad-singer, raise a hearty tune;
+  Make me forget that there was ever a one
+I walked with in the meek light of the moon
+        When the day's work was done.
+
+Rhyme, Ballad-rhymer, start a country song;
+  Make me forget that she whom I loved well
+Swore she would love me dearly, love me long,
+        Then--what I cannot tell!
+
+Sing, Ballad-singer, from your little book;
+  Make me forget those heart-breaks, achings, fears;
+Make me forget her name, her sweet sweet look--
+        Make me forget her tears.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH HODGSON
+
+
+THE MOOR
+
+The world's gone forward to its latest fair
+And dropt an old man done with by the way,
+To sit alone among the bats and stare
+At miles and miles and miles of moorland bare
+Lit only with last shreds of dying day.
+
+Not all the world, not all the world's gone by;
+Old man, you're like to meet one traveller still,
+A journeyman well kenned for courtesy
+To all that walk at odds with life and limb;
+If this be he now riding up the hill
+Maybe he'll stop and take you up with him....
+
+"But thou art Death?" "Of Heavenly Seraphim
+None else to seek thee out and bid thee come."
+"I only care that thou art come from Him,
+Unbody me--I'm tired--and get me home."
+
+
+
+TIME, YOU OLD GIPSY MAN
+
+Time, you old gipsy man,
+  Will you not stay,
+Put up your caravan
+  Just for one day?
+
+All things I'll give you
+Will you be my guest,
+Bells for your jennet
+Of silver the best,
+Goldsmiths shall beat you
+A great golden ring,
+Peacocks shall bow to you,
+Little boys sing,
+Oh, and sweet girls will
+Festoon you with may,
+Time, you old gipsy,
+Why hasten away?
+
+Last week in Babylon,
+Last night in Rome,
+Morning, and in the crush
+Under Paul's dome;
+Under Paul's dial
+You tighten your rein,
+Only a moment
+And off once again;
+Off to some city
+Now blind in the womb,
+Off to another
+Ere that's in the tomb.
+
+Time, you old gipsy man,
+  Will you not stay,
+Put up your caravan
+  Just for one day?
+
+
+
+GHOUL CARE
+
+Sour fiend, go home and tell the Pit:
+For once you met your master,
+A man who carried in his soul
+Three charms against disaster,
+The Devil and disaster.
+
+Away, away, and tell the tale
+And start your whelps a-whining,
+Say "In the greenwood of his soul
+A lizard's eye was shining,
+A little eye kept shining."
+
+Away, away, and salve your sores,
+And set your hags a-groaning,
+Say "In the greenwood of his soul
+A drowsy bee was droning,
+A dreamy bee was droning."
+
+Prodigious Bat! Go start the walls
+Of Hell with horror ringing,
+Say "In the greenwood of his soul
+There was a goldfinch singing,
+A pretty goldfinch singing."
+
+And then come back, come, if you please,
+A fiercer ghoul and ghaster,
+With all the glooms and smuts of Hell
+Behind you, I'm your master!
+You know I'm still your master.
+
+
+
+
+W. G. HOLE
+
+
+ROOSEVELT-VILLAGE STREET
+
+Nought is there here the eye to strike--
+    Uncurved canals where barges ply;
+A hundred hamlets all alike;
+
+    Flat fields that cut an arc of sky
+With men and women o'er them bent
+    Who needs must labour lest they die.
+
+Would any say that lives so spent
+    Might break, spurred on by love and pride,
+Their bars of animal content?
+
+    Nay, here live men unvexed, untried--
+I mused. Yet pacing Roosevelt street
+    In idle humour I espied
+
+A village man and woman meet,
+    And pass with never word or sign--
+So strange in neighbour-folk whose feet
+
+    Haunt the same fields in rain and shine
+That, curious eyed, in either face,
+    In curve of lip, or graven line,
+
+I sought for hints of pain or trace
+    Of harsh resolve, and so grew ware
+That hers was as a hiding place
+
+    Where lurked the kinship of despair;
+While his bore record deeply wrought
+    That life for him had but one care,
+
+And that--to mesh re-iterant thought
+    In labour, till at last his soul
+Should find the anodyne it sought.
+
+    Hence now with dreary face he stole
+Through Roosevelt Street, nor stretched his hand
+    To beg from life its smallest dole.
+
+And yet these two had loved and planned
+    To happiest end, but for the flood
+That wrecks, upreared on rock or sand,
+
+    The house of hopes. Thus--cold of mood,
+He, loving wholly, could but choose
+    To deem her heart as his subdued;
+
+While she, as maidens oft-times use,
+    Denied sweet proofs of love, was fain
+To gain them by the world-old ruse;
+
+    And failing, vexed to find that vain
+Was all her pretty reticence,
+    She happed upon a worthless swain
+
+On whom, reserved the gold, the pence
+    Of liberal smiles she flung away,
+Till, snared by her own innocence,
+
+    She fell--Ah, God! how far that day
+She fell--from hope and promise plumb,
+    To deeps where lips forget to pray.
+
+But he, apart, with sorrow dumb,
+    Beheld, scarce conscious of the strife,
+Himself in her by fate o'ercome;
+
+    And as she passed to her new life,
+Righted by still more wrong, divined
+    Her hate for him who called her wife,
+
+And on the hoarded knowledge pined
+    And starved, till he, as she, was dead,
+And nought remained but to unwind
+
+    His coil of days. So with slow tread
+He goes his way through Roosevelt Street
+    At night and morn, nor turns his head
+
+When past him comes the sound of feet--
+    Of ghostly feet that long ago
+In life had made his pulses beat.
+
+    For, mark you, both are dead, and so
+Small wonder is it nought should pass
+    Betwixt them in the street, I trow.
+
+Yet still they move with that huge mass
+    Of life unpurposeful that reaps
+The corn in season, mows the grass,
+
+    And then by right of labour sleeps
+With privilege of dreams that ape
+    Fulfilment, whereby each may creep
+
+From pain through doors of dear escape;
+    Save such, unhappy, as would win
+Some respite for themselves, and shape
+
+    Those passionate, deep appeals that din
+The Powers, ere season due, to stay
+    The long slow tragedies of sin.
+
+
+
+THE HAUNTED FIELDS
+
+I know of fields by voices haunted still
+      That years ago grew hushed;
+      Whose buttercups are brushed
+By feet that long have ceased to climb the hill.
+
+On whose green slopes the happy children play
+      As on a mother's lap,
+      Then steal through gate and gap,
+And by strange hedge-rows make their wondering way.
+
+Sometimes great seas of ripening corn they spy
+      Across whose rippling face
+      The shadowy billows race
+And round the gate, forlornly whispering, die;
+
+Or in dark rutted lanes by weeds o'ergrown,
+      Round-eyed they watch a thrush
+      That breaks the noonday hush
+Dashing with zest a snail against a stone;
+
+At others, on an impulse waxing brave,
+      They climb the churchyard wall
+      And, marvelling at it all,
+See strange black people gathered round a grave.
+
+Then, without question, hurrying up the lane,
+      They seek once more their own--
+      That world in which is known
+No fear of death, nor thought of change or pain.
+
+Where still they call and answer, still they play,
+      And summer is ever there;
+      But I--I never dare
+Pass through those fields, retrace the well-known way,
+
+Lest I might meet a lad whom once I knew,
+      Whose eyes accusingly
+      Should make demand of me:
+"Where are those dreams I left in charge with you?"
+
+
+
+CAPTIVE IN LONDON TOWN
+
+There comes a ghostly space
+  'Twixt midnight and the dawn,
+When from the heart of London Town
+  The tides of life are drawn.
+
+What time, when Spring is due,
+  The captives dungeoned deep
+Beneath the stones of London Town
+  Grow troubled in their sleep,
+
+And wake--mint, mallow, dock,
+  Brambles in bondage sore,
+And grasses shut in London Town
+  A thousand years and more.
+
+Yet though beneath the stones
+  They starve, and overhead
+The countless feet pace London Town
+  Of men who hold them dead,
+
+Like Samson, blind and scorned,
+  In pain their time they bide
+To seize the roots of London Town
+  And tumble down its pride.
+
+Now well by proof and sign,
+  By men unheard, unseen,
+They know that far from London Town
+  The woods once more are green.
+
+But theirs is still to wait,
+  Deaf to the myriad hum,
+Beneath the stones of London Town
+  A Spring that needs must come.
+
+
+
+
+LAURENCE HOUSMAN
+
+
+THE FELLOW-TRAVELLERS
+
+Fellow-travellers here with me,
+    Loose for good each other's loads!
+    Here we come to the cross-roads:
+Here must parting be.
+
+Where will you five be to-night?
+    Where shall I? we little know:
+    Loosed from you, I let you go
+Utterly from sight.
+
+Far away go taste and touch,
+    Far go sight, and sound, and smell.
+    Fellow-Travellers, fare you well,--
+You I loved so much.
+
+
+
+THE SETTLERS
+
+How green the earth, how blue the sky,
+  How pleasant all the days that pass,
+Here where the British settlers lie
+  Beneath their cloaks of grass!
+
+Here ancient peace resumes her round,
+  And rich from toil stand hill and plain;
+Men reap and store; but they sleep sound,
+  The men who sowed the grain.
+
+Hard to the plough their hands they put,
+  And wheresoe'er the soil had need
+The furrow drave, and underfoot
+  They sowed themselves for seed.
+
+Ah! not like him whose hand made yield
+  The brazen kine with fiery breath,
+And over all the Colchian field
+  Strewed far the seeds of death;
+
+Till, as day sank, awoke to war
+  The seedlings of the dragon's teeth,
+And death ran multiplied once more
+  Across the hideous heath.
+
+But rich in flocks be all these farms,
+  And fruitful be the fields which hide
+Brave eyes that loved the light, and arms
+  That never clasped a bride!
+
+O willing hearts turned quick to clay,
+  Glad lovers holding death in scorn,
+Out of the lives ye cast away
+  The coming race is born.
+
+
+
+SONG
+
+Sleep lies in every cup
+  Of land or flower:
+Look how the earth drains up
+  Her evening hour!
+
+Each face that once so laughed,
+  Now fain would lift
+Lips to Life's sleeping-draught,
+  The goodlier gift.
+
+Oh, whence this overflow,
+  This flood of rest?
+What vale of healing so
+  Unlocks her breast?
+
+What land, to give us right
+  Of refuge, yields
+To the sharp scythes of light
+  Her poppied fields?
+
+Nay, wait! our turn to make
+  Amends grows due!
+Another day will break,
+  We must give too!
+
+
+
+
+EMILIA STUART LORIMER
+
+
+LOVE SONGS
+
+I
+
+White-dreaming face of my dear,
+Waken; the dawn is here.
+
+Ope, oh so misty eyes;
+Keep ope, and recognize!
+
+Mouth, o'er the far sleep-sea
+Spread now thy smile-wings for me.
+
+II
+
+Take from me the little flowers
+And the bright-eyed beasts and the birds;
+And the babies, oh God, take away;
+Hearken my praying-words;
+Empty my road of them,
+Empty my house and my arm,
+For black is my heart with hate,
+And I would not these come to harm.
+
+
+
+STORM
+
+Twigs of despair on the high trees uplifted,
+  Torn cloud flying behind;
+Whistling wind through the dead leaves drifted;
+  Oho! my mind
+With you is racked and ruined and rifted.
+
+Waves of the angry firth high-flying,
+  Rainstorm striping the sea,
+Sleet-mist shrouding the hills; day dying;
+  Now around me
+Closes the darkness of night in, wild crying.
+
+God of the storm, in thy storm's heart unmeted
+  My shallop-soul rideth where roars
+The swirling water-spout--rides undefeated;
+  No rudder, no oars;
+Only within, thy small image seated.
+
+
+
+
+JAMES A. MACKERETH
+
+
+TO A BLACKBIRD ON NEW YEAR'S DAY
+
+Hail, truant with song-troubled breast--
+Thou welcome and bewildering guest!
+Blithe troubadour, whose laughing note
+Brings Spring into a poet's throat,--
+Flute, feathered joy! thy painted bill
+          Foretells the daffodil.
+
+Enchanter, 'gainst the evening star
+Singing to worlds where dreamers are,
+That makes upon the leafless bough
+A solitary vernal vow--
+Sing, lyric soul! within thy song
+The love that lures the rose along!
+
+The snowdrop, hearing, in the dell
+Doth tremble for its virgin bell;
+The crocus feels within its frame
+The magic of its folded flame;
+And many a listening patience lies
+And pushes toward its paradise.
+
+Young love again on golden gales
+Scents hawthorn blown down happy dales;
+The phantom cuckoo calls forlorn
+From limits of the haunted morn;--
+Sing, elfin heart! thy notes to me
+Are bells that ring in Faery!
+
+Again the world is young, is young,
+And silence takes a silver tongue;
+The echoes catch the lyric mood
+Of laughing children in the wood:
+Blithe April trips in winter's way
+And nature, wondering, dreams of May.
+
+Sing on, thou dusky fount of life!
+God love thee for a merry sprite!
+Sing on! for though the sun be coy
+I sense with thee a budding joy,
+And all my heart with ranging rhyme
+    Is poet for the prime!
+
+
+
+LA DANSEUSE
+
+She moved like silence swathed in light,
+  Like mists at morning clear;
+A music that enamoured sight
+  Yet did elude the ear.
+
+A rapture and a spirit clad
+  In motion soft as sleep;
+The epitome of all things glad,
+  The sum of all that weep;
+
+Her form was like a poet's mind--
+  By all sensations sought;
+She seemed the substance of the wind,
+  The shape of lyric thought,--
+
+A being 'mid terrestrial things
+  Transcendently forlorn,
+From time bound far on filmy wings
+  For some diviner bourne.
+
+The rhythms of the raptured heart
+  Swayed to her sweet control;
+Life in her keeping all was art,
+  And all of body soul.
+
+Lone-shimmering in the roseate air
+  She seemed to ebb and flow,
+A memory, perilously fair,
+  And pale from long ago.
+
+She stooped to time's remembered tears,
+  Yearned to undawned delight.
+Ah beauty, passionate from the years!
+  Oh body wise and white!
+
+She vanished like an evening cloud,
+  A sunset's radiant gleam.
+She vanished ... Life awhile endowed
+  The darkness with a dream.
+
+
+
+GOD RETURNS
+
+Dear God, before Thee many weep
+  And bow the solemn knee;
+But I who have thy joy to keep
+  Will sing and dance for Thee.
+
+Come, lilt ye, lilt ye, lightsome birds,
+  For ye are glad as I;
+Come frisk, ye sunlit flocks and herds
+  And cherubs of the sky;
+
+Sweet elfin mischief of the hill,
+  We'll share a laugh together--
+Oh half the world is hoyden still,
+  And waits for whistling weather!
+
+The God of age is staid and old,
+  And asks a sober tongue;
+But till the heart of youth is cold
+  The God of youth is young!
+
+Then kiss, blithe lass and happy lad!
+  The rainbow passes over,
+And love and life, the leal and glad,
+  Must step with time the rover.
+
+Trip buds and bells in spangled ways!
+  Leap, leaves in every tree!
+Ye winds and waters, nights and days,
+  Dance, dance for Deity.
+
+On every hand is elfin land,
+  And faery gifts are falling;
+Across the world, a twinkling band,
+  The elves are calling--calling.
+
+In welcome smile the witching skies,
+  And with a jocund train,
+With dancing joy-light in His eyes,
+  God, God comes home again!
+
+
+
+
+ALICE MEYNELL
+
+
+TO THE BODY
+
+  Thou inmost, ultimate
+Council of judgment, palace of decrees,
+Where the high senses hold their spiritual state,
+  Sued by earth's embassies,
+And sign, approve, accept, conceive, create;
+
+  Create--thy senses close
+With the world's pleas. The random odours reach
+Their sweetness in the place of thy repose,
+  Upon thy tongue the peach,
+And in thy nostrils breathes the breathing rose.
+
+  To thee, secluded one,
+The dark vibrations of the sightless skies,
+The lovely inexplicit colours run;
+  The light gropes for those eyes.
+O thou august! thou dost command the sun.
+
+  Music, all dumb, hath trod
+Into thine ear her one effectual way;
+And fire and cold approach to gain thy nod,
+  Where thou call'st up the day,
+Where thou await'st the appeal of God.
+
+
+
+CHRIST IN THE UNIVERSE
+
+  With this ambiguous earth
+His dealings have been told us. These abide:
+The signal to a maid, the human birth,
+  The lesson, and the young Man crucified.
+
+  But not a star of all
+The innumerable host of stars has heard
+  How He administered this terrestrial ball.
+Our race have kept their Lord's entrusted Word.
+
+  Of His earth-visiting feet
+None knows the secret, cherished, perilous,
+  The terrible, shamefast, frightened, whispered, sweet,
+Heart-shattering secret of His way with us.
+
+  No planet knows that this
+Our wayside planet, carrying land and wave,
+  Love and life multiplied, and pain and bliss,
+Bears, as chief treasure, one forsaken grave.
+
+  Nor, in our little day,
+May His devices with the heavens be guessed,
+  His pilgrimage to thread the Milky Way
+Or His bestowals there be manifest.
+
+  But in the eternities,
+Doubtless we shall compare together, hear
+  A million alien Gospels, in what guise
+He trod the Pleiades, the Lyre, the Bear.
+
+  O, be prepared, my soul!
+To read the inconceivable, to scan
+  The million forms of God those stars unroll
+When, in our turn, we show to them a Man.
+
+
+
+MATERNITY
+
+One wept whose only child was dead,
+  New-born, ten years ago.
+"Weep not; he is in bliss," they said.
+  She answered, "Even so.
+
+"Ten years ago was born in pain
+  A child, not now forlorn.
+But oh, ten years ago, in vain,
+  A mother, a mother was born."
+
+
+
+
+WILL H. OGILVIE
+
+
+THERE'S A CLEAN WIND BLOWING
+
+There's a clean wind blowing
+  Over hill-flower and peat,
+Where the bell heather's growing,
+  And the brown burn flowing,
+And the ghost-shadows going
+  Down the glen on stealthy feet.
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+  And the breath of it is sweet.
+
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+  And the world holds but three:
+The purple peak against the sky,
+  The master wind, and me.
+The moor birds are tossing
+  Like ships upon the sea;
+There's a clean wind blowing
+        Free.
+
+There's a clean wind blowing,
+  Untainted of the town,
+A fair-hitting foeman
+  With his glove flung down.
+Will ye take his lordly challenge
+  And the gauntlet that he throws,
+And come forth among the heather
+  Where the clean wind blows!
+
+
+
+THE GARDEN OF THE NIGHT
+
+The Night is a far-spreading garden, and all through the hours
+Glisten and glitter and sparkle her wonderful flowers.
+First the great moon-rose full blooming; the great bed of stars
+Touching with restful gold petals the woodland's dark bars;
+Then arc-lights like asters that blossom in street and in square,
+And lamps like primroses beyond them in planted parterre;
+Great tulips of crimson that rise from the factory towers;
+White lilies that drop from deep windows: all flowers, the Night's flowers!
+
+Blooms on the highway that twinkle and fade like the stars,
+Golden and red on the vans and the carts and the cars;
+Clusters of bloom in the village; lone homesteads a-light,
+Decking the lawns of the darkness, the plots of the Night.
+Then the bright blossoms of platform and signal that shine
+By the iron-paved path of the garden--the lights of the Line;
+The gold flowers of comfort and caution; the buds of dull red,
+Sombre with warning; the green leaves that say "Right ahead!"
+
+Then the flowers in the harbour that low to the tide of it lean;
+The lights on the port and the starboard, the red and the green,
+Mixing and mingling with mast lights that move in the air,
+And deck lights and wharf lights and lights upon pier-head and stair;
+An edging of gold where a liner steals by like a thief;
+The giant grey gleam of a searchlight that swings like a leaf;
+And far out to seaward faint petals that flutter and fall
+Against the white flower of the Lighthouse that gathers them all.
+
+Then flower lights all golden with welcome--the lights of the inn;
+And poisonous hell-flowers, lit doorways that beckon to sin;
+Soft vesper flowers of the Churches with dark stems above;
+Gold flowers of court and of cottage made one flower by love;
+Beacons of windows on hillside and cliff to recall
+Some wanderer lost for a season--Night's flowers one and all!
+In the street, in the lane, on the Line, on the ships and the towers,
+In the windows of cottage and palace--all flowers, the Night's flowers!
+
+
+
+THE CROSSING SWORDS
+
+As I lay dreaming in the grass
+I saw a Knight of Tourney pass--
+All conquering Summer. Twilit hours
+Made soft light round him, rainbow flowers
+    Hung on his harness.
+
+        Down the dells
+The fairy heralds rang blue-bells,
+And even as they rocked and rang
+Into the lists, full-armed, there sprang
+Autumn, his helm the harvest moon,
+His sword a sickle, the gleaner's tune
+        His hymn of battle.
+
+        Each bowed full low,
+Knight to knight as to worthy foe,
+Then Autumn tossed as his gauntlet down--
+A leaf of the lime tree, golden brown--
+And Summer bound it above the green
+Of his shining breast-plate's verdant sheen.
+
+--They closed. Above them the driving mists
+Stooped and feathered--and hid the lists.
+Later the cloud mist rolled away
+But dead in his harness the Green Knight lay.
+
+
+
+
+STEPHEN PHILLIPS
+
+
+LURES IMMORTAL
+
+Sadly, apparently frustrate, life hangs above us,
+  Cruel, dark unexplained;
+Yet still the immortal through mortal incessantly pierces
+  With calls, with appeals, and with lures.
+Lure of the sinking sun, into undreamed islands,
+  Fortunate, far in the West;
+Lure of the star, with speechless news o'er brimming,
+  With language of darted light;
+Of the sea-glory of opening lids of Aurora,
+  Ushering eyes of the dawn;
+Of the callow bird in the matin darkness calling,
+  Chorus of drowsy charm;
+Of the wind, south-west, with whispering leaves illumined,
+  Solemn gold of the woods;
+Of the intimate breeze of noon, deep-charged with a message,
+  How near, at times, unto speech!
+Of the sea, that soul of a poet a-yearn for expression,
+  For ever yearning in vain!
+Hoarse o'er the shingle with loud, unuttered meanings,
+  Hurling on caverns his heart.
+Of the summer night, what to communicate, eager?
+  Perchance the secret of peace.
+The lure of the silver to gold, of the pale unto colour,
+  Of the seen to the real unseen;
+Of voices away to the voiceless, of sound unto silence,
+  Of words to a wordless calm;
+Of music doomed unto wandering, still returning,
+  Ever to heaven and home.
+The lure of the beautiful woman through flesh unto spirit,
+  Through a smile unto endless light;
+Of the flight of a bird thro' evening over the marsh-land,
+  Lingering in Heaven alone;
+Of the vessel disappearing over the sea-marge,
+  With him or with her that we love;
+Of the sudden touch in the hand of a friend or a maiden,
+  Thrilling up to the stars.
+The appealing death of a soldier, the moon just rising,
+  Kindling the battle-field;
+Of the cup of water, refused by the thirsting Sidney,
+  Parched with the final pang:
+Of the crucified Christ, yet lo, those arms extended,
+  Wide, as a world to embrace;
+And last, and grandest, the lure, the invitation,
+  And sacred wooing of death;
+Unto what regions, or heavens, or solemn spaces,
+  Who, but by dying, can tell?
+
+
+
+BEAUTIFUL LIE THE DEAD
+
+Beautiful lie the dead;
+  Clear comes each feature;
+Satisfied not to be,
+  Strangely contented.
+
+Like ships, the anchor dropped,
+  Furled every sail is
+Mirrored with all their masts
+  In a deep water.
+
+
+
+A LYRIC FROM "THE SIN OF DAVID"
+
+I
+
+Red skies above a level land
+  And thoughts of thee;
+Sinking Sun on reedy strand,
+  And alder tree.
+
+II
+
+Only the heron sailing home
+  With heavy flight!
+Ocean afar in silent foam,
+  And coming night!
+
+III
+
+Dwindling day and drowsing birds,
+  O my child!
+Dimness and returning herds,
+  Memory wild.
+
+
+
+
+EDEN PHILLPOTTS
+
+
+A DEVON COURTING
+
+Birds gived over singin'
+Flitter-mice was wingin'
+Mist lay on the meadows--
+A purty sight to see.
+Downling in the dimpsy, the dimpsy, the dimpsy--
+Downling in the dimpsy
+Theer went a maid wi' me.
+
+Two gude mile o' walkin'
+Not wan word o' talkin',
+Then I axed a question
+An' put the same to she.
+Uplong in the owl-light, the owl-light, the owl-light--
+Uplong in the owl-light
+Theer come my maid wi' me.
+
+
+
+A LITANY TO PAN
+
+By the abortions of the teeming Spring,
+By Summer's starved and withered offering,
+By Autumn's stricken hope and Winter's sting,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By the ichneumon on the writhing worm,
+By the swift, far-flung poison of the germ,
+By soft and foul brought out of hard and firm,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By the fierce battle under every blade,
+By the etiolation of the shade,
+By drouth and thirst and things undone half made,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By all the horrors of re-quickened dust,
+By the eternal waste of baffled lust,
+By mildews and by cankers and by rust,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By the fierce scythe of Spring upon the wold,
+By the dead eaning mother in the fold,
+By stillborn, stricken young and tortured old,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By fading eyes pecked from a dying head,
+By the hot mouthful of a thing not dead,
+By all thy bleeding, struggling, shrieking red,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By madness caged and madness running free,
+Through this our conscious race that heeds not thee,
+In its concept insane of Liberty,
+Oh, hear!
+
+By all the agonies of all the past,
+By earth's cold dust and ashes at the last,
+By her return to the unconscious vast,
+Oh, hear!
+
+
+
+SWINBURNE
+
+Children and lovers and the cloud-robed sea
+Shall mourn him first; and then the mother land
+Weeping in silence by his empty hand
+And fallen sword that flashed for Liberty.
+Song-bringer of a glad new minstrelsy,
+He came and found joy sleeping and swift fanned
+Old pagan fires, then snatched an altar brand
+And wrote, "The fearless only shall be free!"
+    Oh, by the flame that made thine heart a home,
+    By the wild surges of thy silver song,
+    Seer before the sunrise, may there come
+    Spirits of dawn to light this aching wrong
+    Called Earth! Thou saw'st them in the foreglow roam;
+    But we still wait and watch, still thirst and long.
+
+
+
+
+DORA SIGERSON SHORTER
+
+
+THE WATCHER IN THE WOOD
+
+Deep in the wood's recesses cool
+  I see the fairy dancers glide,
+In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
+  My lord and lady side by side.
+
+But who has hung from leaf to leaf,
+  From flower to flower, a silken twine--
+A cloud of grey that holds the dew
+  In globes of clear enchanted wine.
+
+Or stretches far from branch to branch,
+  From thorn to thorn, in diamond rain,
+Who caught the cup of crystal pine
+  And hung so fair the shining chain?
+
+'Tis Death, the spider, in his net
+  Who lures the dancers as they glide
+In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
+  My lord and lady side by side.
+
+
+
+THE NAMELESS ONE
+
+Last night a hand pushed on the door
+And tirled at the pin.
+I turned my face unto the wall,
+And could not cry, "Come in!"
+I dared not cry "Come in!"
+
+Last night a voice wailed round the house
+And called my name upon,
+And bitter, bitter did it mourn:
+"Where is my mother gone?
+Where is my mother gone?"
+
+From saintly arms I slipped and flew
+Adown the moon-lit skies,
+I weary of the paths of Heav'n
+And flowers of Paradise--
+Sweet scents of Paradise!
+
+"For little children prattle there,
+And whisper all the day
+Of lovely mothers on the earth,
+Where once they used to play,
+Who used with them to play.
+
+"They linger laughing by the door,
+And wait the threshold on;
+I have no memory so fair,
+Where is my mother gone?
+Where is my mother gone?"
+
+Thrice pushed the hand upon the door
+And tirled at the pin.
+I turned my face unto the wall,
+And could not cry, "Come in!"
+I dared not cry, "Come in!"
+
+
+
+WHEN I SHALL RISE
+
+When I shall rise, and full of many fears,
+  Set forth upon my last long journey lone,
+And leave behind the circling earth to go
+  Amongst the countless stars to seek God's throne.
+
+When in the vapourish blue, I wander, lost,
+  Let some fair paradise reward my eyes--
+Hill after hill, and green and sunny vale,
+  As I have known beneath the Irish skies.
+
+So on the far horizon I shall see
+  No alien land but this I hold so dear--
+Killiney's silver sands, and Wicklow hills,
+  Dawn on my frightened eyes as I draw near.
+
+And if it be no evil prayer to breathe,
+  Oh, let no stranger saint or seraphim
+Wait there to lead up to the judgment seat,
+  My timid soul with weeping eyes and dim.
+
+But let them come, those dear and lovely ghosts,
+  In all their human guise and lustihood,
+To stand upon that shore and call me home,
+  Waving their joyful hands as once they stood--
+  As once they stood!
+
+
+
+
+ARTHUR SYMONS
+
+
+TANAGRA
+
+To Cavalieri dancing
+
+Tell me, Tanagra, who made
+Out of clay so sweet a thing?
+Are you the immortal shade
+Of a man's imagining?
+In your incarnation meet
+All things fair and all things fleet.
+
+Arrow from Diana's bow,
+Atalanta's feet of fire,
+Some one made you long ago,
+Made you out of his desire.
+Waken from the sleep of clay
+And rise and dance the world away.
+
+
+
+GIOVANNI MALATESTA AT RIMINI
+
+Giovanni Malatesta, the lame old man,
+Walking one night, as he was used, being old,
+Upon the grey seashore at Rimini,
+And thinking dimly of those two whom love
+Led to one death, and his less happy soul
+For which Cain waited, heard a seagull scream,
+Twice, like Francesca; for he struck but twice.
+At that, rage thrust down pity; for it seemed
+As if those windy bodies with the sea's
+Unfriended heart within them for a voice
+Had turned to mock him, and he called them friends,
+And he had found a wild peace hearing them
+Cry senseless cries, halloing to the wind.
+He turned his back upon the sea; he saw
+The ragged teeth of the sharp Apennines
+Shut on the sea; his shadow in the moon
+Ploughed up a furrow with an iron staff
+In the hard sand, and thrust a long lean chin
+Outward and downward, and thrust out a foot,
+And leaned to follow after. As he saw
+His crooked knee go forward under him
+And after it the long straight iron staff,
+"The staff," he thought, "is Paolo: like that staff
+And like that knee we walked between the sun,
+And her unmerciful eyes"; and the old man,
+Thinking of God, and how God ruled the world,
+And gave to one man beauty for a snare
+And a warped body to another man,
+Not less than he in soul, not less than he
+In hunger and capacity for joy,
+Forgot Francesca's evil and his wrong,
+His anger, his revenge, that memory,
+Wondering at man's forgiveness of the old
+Divine injustice, wondering at himself:
+Giovanni Malatesta judging God.
+
+
+
+LA MELINITE: MOULIN ROUGE
+
+  Olivier Metra's Waltz of Roses
+Sheds in a rhythmic shower
+The very petals of the flower;
+  And all is roses,
+The rouge of petals in a shower.
+
+  Down the long hall the dance returning
+Rounds the full circle, rounds
+The perfect rose of lights and sounds,
+  The rose returning
+Into the circle of its rounds.
+
+  Alone, apart, one dancer watches
+Her mirrored, morbid grace;
+Before the mirror, face to face,
+  Alone she watches
+Her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.
+
+  Before the mirror's dance of shadows
+She dances in a dream,
+And she and they together seem
+  A dance of shadows,
+Alike the shadows of a dream.
+
+  The orange-rosy lamps are trembling
+Between the robes that turn;
+In ruddy flowers of flame that burn
+  The lights are trembling:
+The shadows and the dancers turn.
+
+  And, enigmatically smiling,
+In the mysterious night,
+She dances for her own delight,
+  A shadow smiling
+Back to a shadow in the night.
+
+
+
+
+EVELYN UNDERHILL
+
+
+IMMANENCE
+
+I come in the little things,
+Saith the Lord:
+Not borne on morning wings
+Of majesty, but I have set My Feet
+Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat
+That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod.
+There do I dwell, in weakness and in power;
+Not broken or divided, saith our God!
+In your strait garden plot I come to flower:
+About your porch My Vine
+Meek, fruitful, doth entwine;
+Waits, at the threshold, Love's appointed hour.
+
+I come in the little things,
+Saith the Lord:
+Yea! on the glancing wings
+Of eager birds, the softly pattering feet
+Of furred and gentle beasts, I come to meet
+Your hard and wayward heart. In brown bright eyes
+That peep from out the brake, I stand confest.
+On every nest
+Where feathery Patience is content to brood
+And leaves her pleasure for the high emprise
+Of motherhood--
+There doth my Godhead rest.
+
+I come in the little things,
+Saith the Lord:
+My starry wings
+I do forsake,
+Love's highway of humility to take;
+Meekly I fit my stature to your need.
+In beggar's part
+About your gates I shall not cease to plead--
+As man, to speak with man--
+Till by such art
+I shall achieve My Immemorial Plan,
+Pass the low lintel of the human heart.
+
+
+
+INTROVERSION
+
+What do you seek within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    What do you seek within?
+I seek a life that shall never die,
+          Some haven to win
+          From mortality.
+
+What do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    What do you find within?
+I find great quiet where no noises come.
+          Without, the world's din:
+          Silence in my home.
+
+Whom do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    Whom do you find within?
+I find a friend that in secret came:
+          His scarred hands within
+          He shields a faint flame.
+
+What would you do within, O Soul, my Brother?
+    What would you do within?
+Bar door and window that none may see:
+    That alone we may be
+          (Alone! face to face,
+          In that flame-lit place!)
+          When first we begin
+    To speak one with another.
+
+
+
+ICHTHUS
+
+      Threatening the sky,
+          Foreign and wild the sea,
+          Yet all the fleet of fishers are afloat;
+          They lie
+          Sails furled
+      Each frail and tossing boat,
+And cast their little nets into an unknown world.
+The countless, darting splendours that they miss,
+The rare and vital magic of the main,
+      The which for all their care
+      They never shall ensnare--
+          All this
+      Perchance in dreams they know;
+          Yet are content
+      And count the night well spent
+          If so
+      The indrawn net contain
+The matter of their daily nourishment.
+
+      The unseizable sea,
+The circumambient grace of Deity,
+      Where live and move
+Unnumbered presences of power and love,
+      Slips through our finest net:
+      We draw it up all wet,
+A-shimmer with the dew-drops of that deep.
+          And yet
+For all their toil the fishers may not keep
+The instant living freshness of the wave;
+      Its passing benediction cannot give
+      The mystic meat they crave
+          That they may live.
+
+          But on some stormy night
+          We, venturing far from home,
+And casting our poor trammel to the tide,
+          Perhaps shall feel it come
+          Back to the vessel's side,
+            So easy and so light
+              A child might lift,
+Yet hiding in its mesh the one desired gift;
+            That living food
+Which man for ever seeks to snatch from out the flood.
+
+
+
+
+MRS MARGARET L. WOODS
+
+
+SONGS
+
+I've heard, I've heard
+The long low note of a bird,
+The nightingale fluting her heart's one word.
+
+I know, I know
+Pink carnations heaped with snow.
+Summer and winter alike they blow.
+
+I've lain, I've lain
+Under roses' delicate rain,
+That fall and whisper and fall again.
+
+Come woe, come white
+Shroud o' the world, black night!
+I have had love and the sun's light.
+
+
+
+THE CHANGELING
+
+When did the Changeling enter in?
+How did the Devil set him a gin
+Where the little soul lay like a rabbit
+Faint and still for a fiend to grab it?
+        I know not.
+
+Where was the fount of our dishonour?
+Was it a father's buried sin?
+Brought his mother a curse upon her?
+        I trow not.
+
+        So pretty
+Body and soul, the child began.
+He carolled and kissed and laughed and ran,
+A glad creature of Earth and Heaven,
+And the knowledge of love and the secret of pity,
+        That need our learning,
+God to him at his birth had given.
+
+        One remembers
+Trifles indeed--the backward-turning
+Way he would smile from the field at play.
+Sometimes the Thing that sits by the embers
+Smiles at me--devil!--the selfsame way.
+If only early enough one had guessed,
+Known, suspected, watched him at rest,
+Noted the Master's sign and fashion,
+And unbefooled by the heart's compassion,
+Undeterred by form and feature,
+        Caught the creature,
+Tried by the test of water and fire,
+Pierced and pinioned with silver wire,
+Circled with signs that could control,
+Battered with spells that tame and torture
+        The demon nature,
+Till he writhed in his shape, a fiend confest,
+        And vanished--
+  Then had come back, the poor soul banished,
+Then had come back the little soul.
+But now there is nothing to do or to say.
+Will no one grip him and tear him away,
+The Thing of Blood that gnaws at my breast?
+
+Perhaps he called me and I was dumb.
+Unconcerned I sat and heard
+        Little things,
+    Ivy tendrils, a bird's wings,
+        A frightened bird--
+Or faint hands at the window-pane?
+And now he will never come again,
+The little soul. He is quite lost.
+
+I have summoned him back with incantations
+Of heart-deep sobs and whispering cries,
+Of anguished love and travail of prayer,
+    Nothing has answered my despair
+        But long sighs
+Of pitiful wind in the fir-plantations.
+Poor little soul! He cannot come.
+Perchance on a night when trees were tost,
+The Changeling rode with his cavalcade
+Among the clouds, that were tossing too,
+    And made the little soul afraid.
+They hunted him madly, the howling crew,
+Into the Limbo of the lost,
+Into the Limbo of the others
+Who wander crying and calling their mothers.
+
+        Now I know
+The creatures that come to harry and raid
+How they ride in the airy regions,
+Dance their rounds on meadow and moor,
+Gallop under the earth in legions,
+Hunt and holloa and run their races
+Over tombs in burial-places.
+
+In the common roads where people go,
+Masked and mingled with human traces,
+I have marked, I who know,
+In the common dust a devil's spoor.
+
+        To somebody's gate
+A Thing is footing it, cares not much
+Whether he creep through an Emperor's portal
+And steal the fate
+Of a Prince, or into a poor man's hutch--
+For the grief will be everywhere as great
+And he'll everywhere spread the smirch of sin--
+So long as a taste of our blood he may win,
+So long as he may become a mortal.
+
+        I beseech you,
+Prince and poor man, to watch the gate.
+The heart is poisoned where he has fed,
+The house is ruined that lets him in.
+Yet I know I shall never teach you.
+With the voice of the dear and the eyes of the dead
+He will come to the door, and you'll let him in.
+
+        If I could forget
+Only that ever I had a child,
+If only upon some mirk midnight,
+When he stands at the door, all wet and wild,
+With his owl's feather and dripping hair,
+    I could lie warm and not care,
+I should rid myself of this Changeling yet.
+
+I carried my woe to the Wise Man yonder,
+"You sell forgetfulness, they say.
+        How much to pay
+To forget a son who is my sorrow?"
+
+The Wise Man began to ponder.
+"Charms have I, many a one,
+To make a woman forget her lover,
+A man his wife or a fortune fled,
+To make the day forget the morrow,
+The doer forget the deed he has done,
+But a mighty spell must I borrow
+To make a woman forget her son,
+For this I will take a royal fee.
+        Your house," said he,
+"The storied hangings richly cover,
+On your banquet table there were six
+Golden branched candlesticks,
+    And of noble dishes you had a score.
+        The crown you wore
+I remember, the sparkling crown.
+        All of these,
+Madam, you shall pay me down.
+Also the day I give you ease
+Of golden guineas you pay a hundred."
+
+Laughing I left the Wise Man's door.
+Has he found such things where a Changeling sits?
+The home is darkened from roof to floor,
+The house is naked and ravaged and plundered
+        Where a Changling sits
+On the hearthstone, warming his shivering fits.
+
+He sits at his ease, for he knows well
+        He can keep his post.
+He has left me nothing to pay the cost
+Of snatching my heart from his private Hell.
+
+Yet when all is done and told
+I am glad the Wise Man in the City
+        Had no pity
+For me, and for him I had no gold.
+
+Because if I did not remember him,
+My little child--Ah! What should we have,
+He and I? Not even a grave
+With a name of his own by the river's brim.
+Because if among the poppies gay,
+On the hill-side, now my eyes are dim,
+I could not fancy a child at play,
+And if I should pass by the pool in the quarry
+And never see him, a darling ghost,
+Sailing a boat there, I should be sorry--
+If in the firelit, lone December
+I never heard him come scampering post
+Haste down the stair--if the soul that is lost
+Came back, and I did not remember.
+
+
+
+
+THE POETRY SOCIETY
+
+
+The objects of the Society, as stated in the Constitution, are to
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+
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+
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+
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+
+
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+
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+
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+
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+
+The Society deals practically with the art of speaking verse and holds
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+
+
+ALL COMMUNICATIONS & INQUIRIES SHOULD BE ADDRESSED TO THE SECRETARY,
+THE POETRY SOCIETY, 16 FEATHERSTONE BUILDINGS, HOLBORN, LONDON, W.C.
+
+
+
+
+Sixth Year of Publication: first issued as _The Poetical Gazette_,
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+
+THE POETRY REVIEW
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+The leading journal devoted to Poetry and Poets (old and new), and the
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+
+Notable monthly features are the leading articles by the Editor;
+brilliant new poetic drama by writers of distinction, and authoritative
+surveys of poetical effort in different parts of the world.
+
+The exceptional contents of the _Poetry Review_ give it the value of a
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+From Mr ERSKINE MACDONALD'S latest list of
+_POETRY & DRAMA_
+
+Malory House, Featherstone Bldgs, Holborn, London, W.C.
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+
+JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER
+A POETIC DRAMA.
+By ANNA BUNSTON
+Author of "Mingled Wine," "The Porch of Paradise," etc.
+Crown 8vo., 3s. 6d. net.
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+MASQUES & POEMS
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+
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+tenderness and sympathy, and alike in this and in their grace and
+beauty they are uplifting and helpful."--_Aberdeen Free Press._
+
+
+
+
+A BOOK TO ENTHUSE OVER
+
+Cornish Catches and Other Verses
+
+By BERNARD MOORE
+
+Decorated Boards, 2s. 6d. net.
+
+
+_THE TIMES_ says: "There are 'other verses' of a pleasing quality in
+the latter half of the book; but it is the Cornish Catches occupying
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+in his well-chiselled little pieces brings out all the winning beauty
+of the Western speech. They are all happy...."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH_: "Here is a true poet and he should have a poet's
+welcome.... Mr Bernard Moore strikes the authentic note; he sets the
+heart beating and brings the tear to the eye. There is no forced
+sentimentality about his work, and no parade of preciosity. He sings a
+simple, natural ballad, impeccably sincere. Cornwall has had no such
+poet since Hawker of Morwenstow died."
+
+_THE MORNING POST_ in a column notice says: "Mr Moore's 'Cornish
+Catches' are just so good as Cornish cream to a Cornish cat, and even
+those who do not know the dialect, with its faint, far-away echoes of
+Celtic verse-forms, will delight in his simple 'vitty' songs of the
+Delectable Duchy. He is a patriotic Cornish-man sure enough ... as good
+as anything of the kind written by the dialect-poets of Lancashire or
+Dorset ... it is a thing to rejoice over, this little easy-going,
+unostentatious book."
+
+_T. P.'S WEEKLY_ in a column headed "A Cornish Poet" says: "A new sheaf
+of verse of quiet remarkable interest.... They all proclaim Mr Moore to
+be a real poet ... his true vocation is to interpret the souls of the
+people he obviously knows and loves so well. He knows their humour and
+their half articulate pathos so well--and apparently he shares the
+secret only with 'Q.'"
+
+_DAILY CITIZEN_ in half column review says: "The glamour of the land of
+fishermen ... runs through Mr Moore's homely verses. They have all the
+ruggedness and colour of Cornwall '... will all appeal to a larger
+public than Cornishmen alone.'"
+
+_THE SCOTSMAN_: "... The book will be read with a hearty interest by
+anyone who knows Cornwall."
+
+_MANCHESTER CITY NEWS_ in a column headed "A Cornish Singer" says: "He
+is not only a poet of words but ideas. The dialect poems are
+particularly characteristic with their alternate sturdiness and
+wistfulness. Mr Moore is particularly happy in suggesting either a
+story or character sketch."
+
+
+
+
+A FAMOUS NOVELIST AS POET
+
+Willow's Forge AND OTHER POEMS
+
+By SHEILA KAYE SMITH
+
+Crown 8vo. Cloth. 2s. 6d. net.
+
+
+"Written with the same inspiration and refinement as her previous book.
+'To my Body: A Thanksgiving,' is the purest and serenest strain of
+mysticism, and improves even upon the beautiful thought of St
+Francis."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+"... Her poetry is fully equal to her prose. _Willow's Forge_ is a
+slender book, but in interest it is large, so large indeed that a first
+reading only makes one aware of the presence of riches that require
+time to fully appreciate.... _Lovers of real, not to say remarkable,
+poetry must haste to secure this small but wonder-working book._ It
+contains not one but half a dozen things that have in them the germ of
+permanence. It is not too much to say that Mr Masefield (great as his
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+edifying."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
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+poetry."--_Yorkshire Observer._
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Fame Seeker AND OTHER POEMS
+
+By JANET JEFFREY
+
+Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cluster of Grapes, by Various
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